MISSadventHERS Pt. I

MISSadventHERS in Gym Class: An anonymous column in which we address the problems with sexism in gym class by making sure everyone can get their story told.

One long piercing note, the bell at Pollard Middle School rang, and I didn’t hesitate. I walked straight to the gym, stomach already turning. My friends M and J were ready, too, so we waited, preparing exactly what we were going to say. I held my journal tightly, reviewing each item on my list. Every moment in the past few months where we had felt unsafe in our gym class. Every moment when a teacher called out the girls for no reason. Every single way boys had made fun of us or refused to accept that we mattered, too. And now was our time to finally change all of it.

Complaining about gym class was one of the easiest ways to start a conversation at Pollard, because everyone had seen something go down. Personally, I was fed up with teachers targeting girls for not participating. In the always-assigned teams, boys were encouraged, but we were not. Those same boys didn’t believe that we, as girls, were capable, so they refused to pass to us, even after we had proved them wrong. Some of us took any chances we could to show that we were strong, too, but the environment had already caused many girls to give up. Why run around trying to convince a boy to pass to you if he never will? The teachers only saw the girls’ reactions to the environment and seemed unaware of the problems created by the environment in the first place.

Furthermore, there had been a series of individual attacks by boys followed by ignorance and complacency on the part of the teachers. Boys were continually rude to us, as were the teachers. I remember a conversation I had with one teacher (who was a man), in which he was talking to some of the boys about who the best athlete in the grade was. Suddenly, he went on a tangent, sounding shocked while he explained that there were some really athletic girls in the grade. He could not believe it, and I was floored that this conversation was being had as I was the only person succeeding at crossing the rings. So I called him out on it, asking “Why is that a surprise?” I was met with confused looks and a panic as he looked around for a nonexistent excuse. That incident, and all of the others that had built up for far too long, is what led my friends and me to confront the teachers about this.

I had talked to one teacher before class the week before, and set up a meeting. We believed that the women leading our gym class would care about these issues and help us make a difference. If it didn’t happen fast enough for us, then at least we would have done something for the girls to come after us, because these teachers were the ones with the power to make change. If we didn’t tell them what was wrong, nothing would ever get better, so we resolved to make a difference.

The two teachers waved us over, and we stepped into the office shakily. Sure, we had our statements prepared, but that didn’t make us any less nervous. They let us start the conversation, so we explained that gym was not a class in which everybody mattered. It was an environment that was consistently hurtful to girls, and that was not okay. We showed them the list we had composed and elaborated where we thought necessary. We explained why change was necessary, and even provided examples, like teachers calling out girls for not participating, but allowing boys to lay on the floor and prevent the rest of the class from participating in the middle of a game. We explained how terrible these actions made us feel, and why it was detrimental to everyone in the class. The teachers listened, or so we thought.

When we wrapped up our list, we gave them time to speak. They affirmed that they wanted to help, but then explained that they really couldn’t do anything about it. They said that while they could point out the problems with concepts like dress code to the other teachers (who were men), they could not actually take action. We asked them to use more inclusive language, a minimum when giving directions, and they dodged our suggestions. They took a picture of our list to show the other teachers, which was an important step, but did so while telling us they could make no promises. They said that they could not control the actions of the other teachers, but it seemed more like they didn’t care enough to try. We understood that progress would be slow, but the response of these teachers insinuated that progress could never happen, and they wouldn’t even try.

Two adults, teachers who were supposed to protect us, claimed that they were helpless? M reflected, “I didn't know how to respond; they were supposed to be fellow female role models who had our backs. Instead they trailblazed over what we were saying and were defensive about it. Considering I didn't feel comfortable with talking to some of the other PE teachers about this, I felt pretty discouraged from talking about it with anyone at all. Because at that point, what other actions could we take to make a difference?” I completely agree with M—we had suggestions. We wanted to help and to be part of the solution. For example, I had a whole plan to start a club for older girls to help empower young girls, and I was dismissed as if I were a child who had no idea what she was doing. I was told by the same gym teacher I was talking to that she had already started a lunch group with a group of seventh-grade girls, so there was no need for me to do anything else. I was passive-aggressively told that there was no room for me to help, which was extremely hurtful, regardless of the fact that I was trying to make a positive difference, and still could have assisted in some way.

As Alice Walker once said, “The most common way people give up their power is by thinking they don't have any.” My friends and I knew our power. We had a plan for how to use it and make a positive change. But the adults who had even more power than we did refused to recognize this, instead setting a harmful precedent that sexism is just a part of being a girl. Maybe it currently is, but it shouldn’t be, and we should never accept this as the norm.

J agrees, “My reaction is that they don’t care and they’re not willing to try, because even if you think that, like change isn’t going to be easy, and even if you think something’s not going to happen right away, that doesn’t mean you shouldn’t fight for it and keep trying. Because it will take a long time, but we want to make gym a better place for girls in the future.”

It doesn’t take much to create a safe environment. If teachers used inclusive language, did not assume anything of the girls or boys, and held everybody accountable for their actions, the gym would be a much more positive environment. It’s not a difficult change to implement, but it would make a huge difference. Inclusivity should be the bare minimum, and, frankly, gym teachers just aren’t cutting it. When it gets to the point where middle schoolers have to say something, and it is a well known fact that girls are not respected in middle school gym, things need to change. So gym teachers, the ball is in your court now. What will you do?