I was sitting at a women's college basketball game with my friend, Barb, several years ago. We were watching the warm up and chatting about the band and other things. I was amazed by the women athletes: the muscles on those women! The new uniforms. That the band was even there at the venue. I asked Barb at one point, "What did you play in high school?" She answered, "The flute." I said, "No, Barb, I mean sports." Barb replied, with a bit of edge on her voice, "There were no sports for us then, Ann." I actually teared up when she said that. I often forget that Barb is about ten years older than me. It isn't the number of years -- it's when they fall in history. Barb didn't have the benefit of Title IX and I did -- just barely. I can't imagine my life without sports. And though I was born before 1972, I am infinitely grateful for those who got Title IX passed by the time I was old enough to play.
When I started playing sports on school teams in 7th grade, it was 1980. Schools had just enough time to form girls' teams since Title IX passed, but the male dominated infrastructure definitely thought they were doing us a favor. Old, hand-me-down uniforms, later practice times, tired equipment. Only our loving parents in the stands -- definitely not the band. No way other spectators would have bought tickets, so entry was free for our games. Mostly male coaches. Absolutely no strength training of any kind. We were clearly guests of the "real" athletes who were granting us space out of the goodness of their hearts, or more likely because they were forced to provide that space by law.
Too bad I didn't play soccer, though a group of us girls lobbied (unsuccessfully) for a team in high school. Soccer grew enormously after the passage of Title IX. You can trace a direct line from Title IX to the stunning success of the US women's national soccer team. Title IX required equal opportunities for women. That's the key. They had to give us room to play.
Watching a particular series of movies about surfing traces the progression of all of women's sports history: The Endless Summer, Girls Can't Surf, then Surf Girls Hawai'i (SGH). I've written about Girls Can't Surf before, and it explains the long transition between The Endless Summer and Surf Girls Hawai'i. The Endless Summer was hard to watch for me. Dripping with sexism and racism, it really gave me the "see how far we've come" perspective. SGH is a mini-series, and though I look forward to more episodes, it shows me the "see how far we still have to go" perspective. Just like I was so happy to see the infrastructure supporting the college women basketball players, I couldn't be happier that young surfing women today have systemic support. There are established competitions. Surfing corporations are looking for young women surfers to sponsor. There are surfboards and clothing made just for women. The change is substantive and encouraging.
And.
The swimsuits are tiny. The wetsuits are "cheeky." The girls chosen for sponsorships, I suspect, are the prettier ones. There is a competition in Hawai'i at a famous surf break called Pipeline. The competition has just opened up to women this year. (The movie Blue Crush was "aspirational," apparently.) Because women's competitions haven't existed at that location, female pro surfers haven't trained there. So it's likely that the first competition isn't going to go as well as it could, which may bring criticism about allowing women there in the first place. See how those dominos fall? Just like the first generation of women basketball players, we weren't that good, because we didn't have the training. It took awhile to catch up. We're still catching up.
It's only been in the last ten years that substantive achievements have been made in women's surfing. A great article from the NYT explains how women have been fighting for equity for over 50 years and describes the changes that have taken place only recently. Title IX didn't reach everywhere. It makes me angry. So many women, so many opportunities, so much potential, squandered because they had to fight to just be there.
I was chatting with an older woman surfer the other weekend at Blackies. I was commenting on how the break was so friendly and welcoming. She said to me, "That's because it's small. Just wait until it gets bigger and then the young, aggro males will show up and it'll be a different story." She had the same edge in her voice that Barb did. Lots of anger. I have the same anger at the unfairness of it all, and also anger at myself, for not fighting harder against the injustice. Other women have paved this path for me. I'm not sure I helped at all.
This month's lesson in meditation class is all about forgiveness. I haven't even been able to listen to the dharma talks yet. I am working on letting go of all this and other baggage. I not only put on my surf hat and sunnies, my wetsuit and booties, the Sharkbanz and leash along with my wetsuit in the morning. I wear my history. I wear my guilt that I didn't do more. My longing for wanting it to be something other than it was. Along with The Admiral, I'm also carrying these ideas that I am grateful to have this opportunity; grateful that I am allowed to surf. That people (not people, men, as they dominate the waves by their sheer numbers) are friendly to me at Blackies and that I have not experienced any harassment on the waves. There's part of me, still, that thinks that I don't naturally belong there, that someone is doing me a favor.
Forgiveness is something we can do for ourselves. I know that sentence, have even taught that sentence to others. Living that knowledge is something else entirely. Sitting in burning rage only fires up my own blood pressure; I know this. So there are practices I can do to let go. Radical compassion is one idea. RAIN is another process. For me, finding the right language can unlock insight and a change of heart, so I'll look up different definitions of forgiveness. And I can listen to the dharma talks, finally. As Tara Brach says, "We cannot will this process of forgiveness, but we can be willing." Floating somewhere between see how far I've come and see how far I have to go, I am willing. Tired, but willing.
I hope that the young women out there today don't have this baggage. That they believe that their dreams of surfing are just as valid and achievable as young men's. That they don't even compare, actually -- that they just dream. Shows like Surf Girls Hawai'i are so important, because, even with all of their flaws, they show tons of video of women surfing. Powerful, strong women, making decisions about health and fitness, sponsorships, competitions, and travel. Taking on waves. Winning and crashing, getting injured and coming back. The stories young boys have always had to guide and inspire them from watching pro athletes. These programs show a reality I didn't experience, and it's healing my heart to see it. Thanks to SGH, maybe someday, I'll go out to Blackies and there will be more women surfing than men.
Right now, I'm caught in the in-between: between the reality of my past embodied in The Endless Summer, and a vision of the present that isn't mine, SGH. I'm out there, but grateful. I'm working on it, but not yet owning it. I'm having a ball, but it's not mine completely. I'm not standing up under my own power, yet, having learned to rise above the shifting sea. Waves still knock me down. Fear and doubt limit me. I'm still catching up.
Wave after wave, I'm working on much more than standing up on a surf board. I'm working on standing up within myself, completely self-possessed, surrounded by an ocean of other -- other expectations, limitations, and assorted BS trying to knock me down. That's why I love the picture posted above that one of my Surf Squad peeps took the other day. I look like a boss. I look like I'm about to sail down a mountain of water. (The wave was maybe two feet high.) I look like I naturally belong there, all kitted out. I love pictures of just me and the water, like this one, below.
Look at her. Completely at ease in the sea. It's deep there, well outside anything surfable, just hanging out, chatting with the girls, like we're at a table in a coffee shop. Look at that.
"What could I have been?" is a thought that haunts me. Seeing these photos, I can pretend that I am just me, that little girl who loved sports. I get to remember that I have these dreams and ambitions that exist outside of what society thinks and has allowed me to do with the limited support it has given to me and women in general. I can see a future in which I am gliding on top of the waves, tip-toeing back and forth on my longboard, unbothered by the conditions, having learned to navigate them confidently.
I am surprised by the waves of emotions that surfing has brought up. Anger. Shame. Sadness. Grief. The saltwater I'm drinking this morning comes from my own tears. I am practicing much more than surfing out there. Wave by wave, I'm practicing forgiveness.
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