Growing up in rural Indiana in the 1980s and 1990s definitely was a treat. Looking back as an adult, I know there were social issues, but as a child I was oblivious to them. As far as I knew, women had the same rights as men because we could work outside of the home and vote, African Americans were free from slavery, could also vote and had the same educational opportunities as everyone else and America was a place where everyone was accepted and there were rainbows and unicorns and everything. Home of the free. Land of the Brave.
Like many children, I was impressionable and I believed everything that I was told. I also possess an incredible amount of naivety and really did believe people of all ages, genders and race were equal. In many ways, it was this newfound American optimism, that also encouraged me to dream of becoming President one day, and helped me become a girl who knew few limitations.
Growing up in rural Indiana in the 1980s and 1990s was a treat because children were still granted the freedom to play outside and explore. I mean we were encouraged to run away from the creepy men in the white vans trying to give us candy, but we were expected to get up in the morning and figure out how to make it in the world.
Because of this freedom, and because girls could play a variety of sports instead of twirling a baton while they focused on exercises that made their boobs bigger, I did not know my limits. Yes, there were girls teams and boys teams. But on a daily basis, I played on the same fields, with the same rules and the same expectations as my male counterparts.
I thought handicaps, such as the ones women get in golf, were sexist. Do those 5 to 10 extra feet really help? Do they really help the woman in her golf game? Or do they just tell the woman that she is not as strong as a man?
When we played homerun derby in the backyard, I was expected to hit the ball just as far as all the boys. When we played basketball, I still had to mind the double dribbling and traveling rules. When we played kickball, the distance for a home run was the same distance the boys used.
Because I was expected to play by the same rules and standards as the boys, I did. And because I was expected to play by the same rules and standards as the boys, I was challenged. And because I was expected to play by the same rules and standards as the boys, I was accepted as an equal. And because I was expected to play by the same rules and standards as the boys, I knew no limitations.
And to this day I still “shoot like a boy” and “throw like a boy.” Not because I am a boy, but because I was a girl. I was a girl who grew up in the 1980s and 1990s who believed that boys and girls were equal.
The other great thing about growing up in the environment that I did is that because I had to play with the same rules and expectations as they boys, they were also often surprised when I could compete against and with them. They knew that when I was on the court, there was no guarantee of an easy win.
And with that, there are few men today who doubt what I can and cannot do. The men in my life know that I will play by the rules, push my limits and come out the other end stronger.
My daughters have grown up in a more confusing time, though. While they hear the same rhetoric about being anything they want to be, and how they have the same opportunities as everyone else, they also are told that they have different rules.
They know that they are weaker because they are not expected to kick as far in order to get a home run. They know that boys are stronger because they are limited to running one base at a time so the game remains fair. My girls are being taught the rules for boys and the rules for girls need to be different because there is no way girls, whether individually or as a whole, can girls compete with the boys without special accommodations.
When my middle daughter talks about the differences in rules and expectations, her face gets red with fury. When my oldest daughter (the one who already hates competition as it is) talks about the differences in rules and expectations, she talks about how it makes her want to participate even less.
It breaks my heart that they will once again have to fight this fight. The one where they have to prove to the world that they are equal. That their bodies, minds, emotions and spirits can do so much more than the world views them to be capable of doing.
But honestly, that’s not even the fight I’m worried about. Because even though they react with a red face or realize that this practice is sexist, they are going to have to fight the internal fight in which they must prove to themselves that they are who they believe they are.
You see, they are not as naive as I once was. They will not see the rainbows and unicorns as I once did. At their young, very impressionable age, they know there is sexism in this world.
And they know that it does not begin or end with some silly game where the rules and expectations are different for boys and girls. They know that these practices breed doubt, insecurities and ignorance. They know it’s just as bad as only allowing girls to twirl a baton and do exercises to make their boobs bigger.
They know that doubt about their capabilities has been planted in their minds. And while they know they are capable of rising up above it, they don’t know how tough it will be for them to show themselves that their abilities can match their words. And that is what I worry about most of all.
