Your Daily Miracle: Merry
Merry, fifth grader, has created her own chapter of Title Nine at her elementary school.
A few weeks ago, she approached me at the counter where I was chopping onions for dinner.
"Mommy," she said, in the formal voice she uses when she needs to discuss something important, "I have a question for you. Answer it like a girl instead of like a mommy, okay?"
I agreed.
"Well, say there was a soccer team at recess at your school, but it was only boys. And the boys said no girls were allowed to play because girls are idiots and can't play soccer. Would you play with them anyway?"
I spluttered a little over my onions. "Well, I think it's silly that the boys won't let the girls play. To tell you the truth, I've never been any good at sports, so I would probably not try to play. But that's just me. Don't you have friends you play with during recess? Why not play with them?"
Yes, I said the above. One giant step backward for women. I'm usually an advocate in every way for women's rights but I demurred because of my own non-competitive leanings; also, there's the fact that I stunk at every sport I ever tried (except badminton. I'm killer in badminton).
That night as we watched our kids play at the playground, I mentioned the situation to my sister. She spluttered, too, but then she said, "Oh, I'd be in there in a minute playing with the boys. As soon as they said I couldn't play, I'd do it." (Cue Nike commercial.) "Remember that boy in third grade who used to kiss the girls and make them cry? I ran after him, tackled him to the ground, and kissed him. And he never did it again."
This is true. My sister is kickin. I have the bruised ankles from our pick-up soccer game a few days ago to prove it.
Later that night I said, "Talk to your Auntie Heather, Merry."
Like the analyst she is, Merry gathered opinions from several trusted sources. She watched some Mia Hamm, Bend it Like Beckam and took in the amazing story of Tahmina Kohistani.
Then, one sunny day, Merry made her big move.
At second recess, she jumped into the game and dribbled and passed with a bunch of boys--the only girl on the team. One boy accidentally kicked the ball and it hit her in the shoulder, and the another boy said, "That's no way to treat a lady." But she's proven that she's more than just a lady now, and early this week, emboldened by Merry's example, another girl joined the scrimmage, too.
Merry said after that first game her hair was wet with rain (a light drizzly rain) and sweat. She also reported that a boy--I like to think it's the same one who called girls idiots--marvelled to her, "Wow. I never knew girls could play so well."
One step forward for women, and it was made by my daughter. I couldn't be prouder.
A few weeks ago, she approached me at the counter where I was chopping onions for dinner.
"Mommy," she said, in the formal voice she uses when she needs to discuss something important, "I have a question for you. Answer it like a girl instead of like a mommy, okay?"
I agreed.
"Well, say there was a soccer team at recess at your school, but it was only boys. And the boys said no girls were allowed to play because girls are idiots and can't play soccer. Would you play with them anyway?"
I spluttered a little over my onions. "Well, I think it's silly that the boys won't let the girls play. To tell you the truth, I've never been any good at sports, so I would probably not try to play. But that's just me. Don't you have friends you play with during recess? Why not play with them?"
Yes, I said the above. One giant step backward for women. I'm usually an advocate in every way for women's rights but I demurred because of my own non-competitive leanings; also, there's the fact that I stunk at every sport I ever tried (except badminton. I'm killer in badminton).
That night as we watched our kids play at the playground, I mentioned the situation to my sister. She spluttered, too, but then she said, "Oh, I'd be in there in a minute playing with the boys. As soon as they said I couldn't play, I'd do it." (Cue Nike commercial.) "Remember that boy in third grade who used to kiss the girls and make them cry? I ran after him, tackled him to the ground, and kissed him. And he never did it again."
This is true. My sister is kickin. I have the bruised ankles from our pick-up soccer game a few days ago to prove it.
Later that night I said, "Talk to your Auntie Heather, Merry."
Like the analyst she is, Merry gathered opinions from several trusted sources. She watched some Mia Hamm, Bend it Like Beckam and took in the amazing story of Tahmina Kohistani.
Then, one sunny day, Merry made her big move.
At second recess, she jumped into the game and dribbled and passed with a bunch of boys--the only girl on the team. One boy accidentally kicked the ball and it hit her in the shoulder, and the another boy said, "That's no way to treat a lady." But she's proven that she's more than just a lady now, and early this week, emboldened by Merry's example, another girl joined the scrimmage, too.
Merry said after that first game her hair was wet with rain (a light drizzly rain) and sweat. She also reported that a boy--I like to think it's the same one who called girls idiots--marvelled to her, "Wow. I never knew girls could play so well."
One step forward for women, and it was made by my daughter. I couldn't be prouder.
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