By Andrea Scarpino
After watching the US women’s soccer team battle Japan through 90 minutes of World Cup finals play; after watching 30 minutes of tense overtime; after watching the US lose in penalty kicks; after their disappointment; after Japan’s jubilation; finally, I remembered Title IX.
Title IX, which amended the earlier Civil Rights Act of 1964, was enacted in 1972. While it has broader implications for education than sports participation, it’s often associated with women’s sports and the advancement of women in sporting arenas. All of the US players in this World Cup grew up with Title IX protection, meaning that their access to and participation in sports was, in theory at least, guaranteed by US Law.
And all of the women in this World Cup were fiercely athletic. They ran for hours on end, strategized with one another, pushed and shoved and tripped opponents when they needed to. They jumped crazy high, moved their bodies in crazy shapes. They got injured. They cried. They showed that all that is a part of the game, of pushing a woman’s body harder and longer than people would have thought possible even fifty years ago. Even twenty years ago, when the first Women’s World Cup was played.
Take Abby Wambach. Broad shouldered. Inches taller than most other players. Intense. She runs at the ball with her head, runs full-speed at other players. She looks fearless. Take Hope Solo. Stunningly attractive, long-haired—in many ways, stereotypically feminine. And tall. Muscular. Stunningly tough. I’ve read that she suffers from near-constant shoulder pain, and yet, she throws the ball over her head like it’s no big deal. Dives to the ground without flinching. She looks fearless.
I’m not an athlete in any sense of the word. When my friends were playing sports growing up, I was medically exempt from gym class, a person with disabilities struggling to walk without pain. But in my early 30s, I realized that I could push my body to run for hours, do incredibly hard yoga, weight lift. I realized that exercise made me feel good, physically and mentally, realized that “You’re strong” is an incredible compliment.
And my participation in athletics, while trivial compared to most, is also a product of Title IX. Because of Title IX’s success, it’s more societally acceptable for women to be athletic and strong, to get sweaty and grass-stained, fall to the ground. To be muscular. To scream across a field at one another. Because of Title IX’s success, I can choose from a plethora of sports bras and sports tanks, a plethora of shoes in my size. I can enter myself in marathons officially (only 40 years ago, women were denied entry in the famous Boston Marathon). I can be vocal about exercise. I can watch a group of women unabashedly announce their desire to win. Unabashedly play to win. And even when they come in second place, I can stand amazed at their accomplishment.
Poet and essayist Andrea Scarpino is a frequent contributor to POTB. You can visit her at:
www.andreascarpino.com
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