Super Bowl

I want to write about my feelings during the Super Bowl today as an example of what goes through my mind on many occasions thinking about being a woman, and also as an outlet to allow myself to feel validated in my reactions and thoughts. In other words, to speak my truth and use my voice. Let me start with a little anecdote to give my train of thought and attempt to show why this is important to me.

This evening I was watching the Super Bowl with a small group of beautiful people with whom I feel quite comfortable and myself. I was happy and relaxed, if not totally interested in the game. Then when that commercial about #LikeAGirl, which I had seen before, came on, something changed. I felt like I had been reminded of something unpleasant all of the sudden--gender inequality, sure--but more than that, as I watched, and directly after the commercial ended, I felt a wave of shame. I didn’t say anything.

A flood of thoughts and emotions followed, including but not limited to:

• the hypocrisy of the entire NFL--How did we not boycott this! How am I watching this! How can I be upset about people enjoying football if it’s not them or all the participants individually, but who is to blame?
• of sports, for God’s sake--and I’m a huge hockey fan so I am trying to use that as a vehicle to relate to other sports fans, but let’s face it, women’s professional sports are not comparable to men’s in terms of media, money, hype, concern… why are they segregated at all? Don’t give me biology for that; it is bigger than that. How do I rationalize being a woman who is “into” male-dominated pro sports, with all their baggage, without going crazy?

And suddenly, now that I had “reawakened” temporarily to this blight of society, or had it pushed to front rather than back burner, (what does it mean, that women can turn off their concern--do we have to put it aside to get through the day?) the next few hours were done, I was a head case. As I’m roiling with thoughts through the second half, that commercial with the tortoise getting a car to beat the hare comes on, and in the last second it shows that the hare’s “lady” hare is in the passenger seat with the tortoise. There we go again. (Seriously? Do you know who 50% of your audience is? Who are you and do you not care? OH GOD, do women not care?)

This all hit home so hard inside yet I felt that to express that somehow would not be appropriate, that I would be the killjoy at the Super Bowl gathering, that I would be labelled or judged an over-reactor crazy feminist, or worst, that my lovely friends would nod or agree sincerely for a few moments, until a few minutes later when we’d all feel safely past that enough to not dwell, to at best maybe have an offhand reference later over an overtly sexualized commercial, perhaps. And so it would keep going. But none of that happened, because, worst of all, I was simply paralyzed in my own self.

I am an outgoing, passionate person, but here, again, like I have been in conversations where I am outnumbered by smart confident boys, or doubting my unspoken rank at a dinner table, or getting into angry arguments with imaginary foes who I crush--let me tell you I crush with facts and reason in the shower or while I’m falling asleep in bed or alone on the El--me of all people--my mother used to tell me I ate nails for breakfast, and I took woodworking, and got into engineering school, and have always played with the boys--and I can’t say anything, I don’t know what to say. I am weak and ashamed. And I hate that about myself.

So that is what this is about. Not solutions or alternatives or me telling you or anyone anything about how the world ought to be or how you ought to think, but me putting it out there that this is my world, whatever you think about me. I draw strength knowing I am not alone. Many of you are my role models. I hope that by writing, my personal best form of communication, I can add my voice, which I too often find unavailable or faltering in person, to the collective roar. It doesn’t go away when it’s not listened to, but I will not be the one who brings the volume down.