Is Aggie Pride for Men's Team Only?

Yesterday, my Women in Leadership class attended a panel discussion about women and athletics in honor of Title IX Day. Prior to this discussion, I had never actually heard of Title IX. It is a law that states

No person in the United States shall, on the basis of sex, be excluded from participation in, be denied the benefits of, or be subjected to discrimination under any education program or activity receiving federal financial assistance. 

Though this law applies to all education programs and activities, it has probably most significantly affected young women's participation in sports. Though not a huge sports fan myself, I can see how the participation in sports has probably given a lot of girls and women confidence, team-building skills, physical fitness, health awareness, competitive drive, and a distinct sense of achievement. And if you are a woman who has enjoyed playing sports, you are probably a feminist.

Anyway, the panel member who I got the most from was the women's basketball coach for USU. She is young enough that she has always been able to benefit from Title IX, though she still sees some clear inequality between men and women in basketball. For instance, men always coach male basketball teams, but men also primarily coach female basketball teams. There are practically no female referees, not even for high school basketball. Plus, of course, women's basketball is less popular with the public. In fact, it made me sad to consider the fact that she told us that USU has among the lowest turnout of students at games compared to other schools the team visits. Looking at this in contrast to USU men's basketball team, where the aggressively loyal and huge number of fans is almost overwhelming, I wonder why USU has so few students that attend the women's games in comparison with other schools.

 Going to this panel has inspired me a little bit to bring up women's sports and basketball more often, especially to Aggie Basketball fans. If you've never been to a women's game, please go some time. Especially if you are a USU student, and can get in for free. Invite others to come with you. I know that the team and coach will appreciate seeing the numbers of people in attendance climb.

Bald and Free: My story of being Miss Representation

I have something important I want to share. It is something about myself that only my family and a few of my close friends know. Even now, I feel a little bit of hesitation in deciding to post it openly. It is a fact that has caused me a lot of internal shame, and has affected my self image in ways that has made me feel abnormal, antisocial, and at times, really ugly. I have Trichotillomania. I even hate to write that word sometimes, because having a condition with the suffix "mania" can make me feel a little crazy.

I share this because I honestly feel that in life you have to give something to get something. In order to internalize the struggles of others and understand them, I need to share my own. I can only expect the trust and intimacy that comes with truly learning who others are by trusting them as well. I need to open that possibility through my willingness to be vulnerable. I believe that there is more power that comes through suffering than I know, and I want to learn how to harness it. There is no value, for me, in perpetually looking beyond the negative, and looking at the lighter side of life. I'm sure that this view is more important than I realize as well, but not at the expense of rejecting and ignoring the purpose of pain. That purpose should be explored. I'm sure there's some Buddist wisdom that would explain this idea better, but I have yet to learn it.

The hardest part of my Trich is that it has driven me to hiding. At first, it was my mother's shame that motivated me to hide my head. She bought a wig for me to wear in middle school. In high school I refused to wear it, and at her bidding, I shaved my head. It wasn't until college that I really started letting my hair grow out, but perhaps that was just a result of the fact that I never wanted to go to a hair salon. I never wanted to go swimming either, or be outside while it was windy or raining. I didn't even want to physically get too close to anyone that didn't already know what was "wrong." I couldn't put my head on someone's shoulder, or let someone brush or stroke my hair. Obviously, this sort of mental restriction held me back from getting close to guys and dating. I've been described as stand-offish before. There was even a time when I was afraid to be a part of baptisms for the dead at the temple, for fear that it would expose my secret, and lead to questions and negative views about me. I'm pretty ashamed for letting it get to me in that way.

I was pretty good at hiding my bald spots most of the time. A comb-over isn't just for balding guys, it is a vital practice for most Trichsters. I have a shoe box full of barrettes, bandannas, and head bands. I've even used hair powders and scalp creams to hide my spots. Last spring, my pulling was getting so bad that the hair powder no longer could conceal the damage, and I began wearing bandannas everyday, even if I was alone in my apartment, and many times even to bed.

There were many times when I wanted to get away from that shame, and that harmful desire to hide. I kept commenting to my husband, "I should just shave my head." And he'd answer, "If you want, I'll do it for you." It was always kind of a half joke. One day, this past November, I said, "Okay John, I want you to shave my head tonight." It was actually a bizzare bonding experience, and I felt good about it most of the time my hair was falling down around me. I do remember shedding a tear or two, though. This time, shaving my head was not about hiding like it was when I was younger. It was about openly being willing to show my ugliness, and my realness to everyone, and it was about the desire for a new beginning.

I knew that shaving my head would nessisitate telling others about my condition. A girl can't just shave her head without questions, and this time I wasn't going to lie. That's largely what made it so difficult. But, I felt it was the right thing to do. I sent an email telling all of my in-laws about it, and got some very supportive responses. However, it just so happened that the next time I would see them all, it was Thanksgiving. So, practically all of them were there to see my "new look." I had a reaction I would never have anticipated. Shortly after I saw them all for the first time with my shaved head, I broke down crying, and crying, and crying. I couldn't stop. I actually had such a hard time dealing with my emotions, that I decided I would feel better going home. My husband, amazing in his support, came with me, despite not being able to see his family for very long for the holiday.

I'm not sure how to reflect back on Thanksgiving night, and my emotions. I think there is just a certain extreme shock that can result if you suddenly allow yourself to be completely vulnerable to people whose love, opinions, and judgements you value, and you fear somehow changing. Despite this extreme reaction, I've found that sharing this experience has been helpful and positive for my development, and my relationships with others.

After shaving my head, yes, even right down to the skin, the damage to my hair could still be seen. It is taking its sweet time growing back, and I am hopeful that all of it will. I still often wear hats now while it is growing back and looks funky, but I don't feel like I need to. And I often don't "need to" at all.

Last night I watched the awesome film, Miss Representation. I highly, highly recommend it. Here is a detailed description of it in case you are interested. It is about how the media has marginalized the value and potential of women, and created an obsession with youth, beauty and sexiness. Women are underrepresented and misrepresented all around us, and the effects are devastating. I know that without the constant and specific influence that beauty has had on our society, my Trichotillomania would not have been such a negative and difficult force in my life. It's interesting to consider that if baldness were considered beautiful, I would never have felt ashamed of my condition, or felt ashamed to live life with the confidence I deserved. I'd like to think that I am above internalizing the shallow pettiness of society and the media, and sometimes I certainly can be, but rising above it isn't the best answer. It needs to be stopped. I believe that the silence of good people that know the truth will perpetuate the lies we see and hear more than the liars will. I don't want to be silent anymore.

My friend Heidi was told by some of her photography professors that most of her models look too perfect. I've noticed that she likes her photos as polished as possible, and goes to great lengths to hire an awesome make-up artist, and edit her images to look just the way she likes them. I've gotten photos with her before where I've enjoyed going to her make-up artist, and having Heidi curl my hair. My pictures turned out great. More recently, after shaving my head, I offered to be the kind of model that did not represent perfection. We had a weird, but fun photo shoot. Here are my radically different pictures:





       



 









I don't want to critically evaluate and compare the kind of beauty I see in each photo. Beauty is not the point. It is the opposite of the point. I do, however, want to be able to post both photos side by side and proudly say, "This is me!" Well, this is me!

Iron Jawed Angels

Last night, my dear friend Heidi and I watched Iron Jawed Angels. What a great opportunity it was to learn more about the Suffrage Movement. It's pretty strange to think that most of the women in the United States did not have the right to vote just 100 years ago! I admire the women that had the courage to stand up and demand the right to be heard and to take part in the decisions that affect our country.

There were a few particular scenes in the film that especially impressed me. First, I loved the parade that was organized to create awareness about Women's Suffrage. I found the iconic warrior-woman with angel's wings on horseback a beautiful image and representation of feminist ideology. Here's a true photo of her:

Somehow, I find it symbolic that she is riding on a white horse. We've heard the classic telling of fairy tales where the gallant knight rides in on a white horse and saves the poor damsel in distress. Here, this woman asserts that she is able to work to create a better life for herself, herself. She has that right, and that ability.

Anyway, it was pretty shocking to me in the film when the citizens watching the parade began harassing the women participants, throwing things at them, and finally breaking out into complete violence, sending about 100 women to the hospital. It was particularly intense because I could tell that things were just going to get worse.

I also liked the scenes where the women were picketing for women's right to vote. Apparently, this was the first time anyone has had the balls ovaries to protest right outside the White House. I was particularly moved by the character Alice Paul, played by Hilary Swank, as she read aloud the various statements about democracy and liberty that President Wilson had delivered , and then threw them into a fire. She was publicly declaring the President of the United States a hypocrite. Gutsy girl.

Well, as you can imagine, all of these women protesters get arrested...for the outrageous charge of "obstructing traffic." When the women are taken to jail and claim that they have done nothing wrong and are political prisoners and would like their clothes back and some paper and pens to write their legislators, they are instead chained to walls. Driven from the streets, and provided no practical means to further their cause, the women go on a hunger strike. The scenes where Alice Paul has a tube shoved down her throat as she is force-fed raw eggs make me want to puke a little, honestly.

Later a psychiatrist takes her aside and is trying to assess whether or not she is crazy. When he asked her to tell him about her cause and to "explain herself," I loved her answer: "I just wonder what needs to be explained..." and continued further saying that she values the same rights to seek professions, and be autonomous as he does. It just seemed so simple and obvious to her that women should be men's equals, and have the same rights, and it clearly created pain that others did not seem to agree or understand. Earlier on in the movie she says she doesn't understand why she has to be a part of a fight that shouldn't be a fight. That's a powerful way to put it.

Heidi and I both liked how after the interrogation, the psychiatrist defends Alice against those questioning her mental state. He claimed that she is no more insane than the hero Patrick Henry, who declared, "Give me liberty or give me death!" He also offered his opinion that often times "courage in a woman is mistaken for insanity."

That actually reminds of a story that a guest speaker for my Women in Leadership class mentioned about his grandmother and grandfather. His grandmother had found out that her husband was cheating on her, and out of her rage and frustration, she threw down a big mirror in their home and broke it. He had her declared insane, and she was given electric shock therapy, and a lobotomy (the trauma from which, later killed her). Perhaps to a much, much smaller degree, I believe that women's justifiable emotional reactions can still be misconstrued as irrational.

As for the movie, all ends well, and Alice and the other women are released from prison, and women are given the right to vote. Huzza! I almost want to order a Suffragette's flag and string it up on my the flag pole outside my new house. It would certainly be more respectful than the fun pirate flag I wanted to slyly replace the American flag with...haha, oh boy.

What woman (from your life, history, or fiction) do you admire for her courage and example?