Caster Semenya: you had probably never heard of her before last Wednesday, when she won the women's 800m championship. Actually, you probably didn't even hear about her then -- until the International Association of Athletics Federations publicized that they'd asked her to take a gender test.
The media jumped on this, flashing Caster's image across the screen and posting pictures of her in various poses and various attires, as if asking the general public "well, what do YOU think?" What very few questioned, however, was the fact that IAAF had publicized the fact that the test was going to take place, not that she had failed it. Her family was contacted, her birth certificate demanded (sound familiar?), and various avenues of the internet were filled with speculation on her gender identity based entirely on her appearance.
What struck me was how she handled it. She got snippy with reporters, but who can honestly blame her for that? She's had various people and associations sticking up for her, but she has managed to refrain from doing what I did when confronted with the same sort of accusations - giving in.
I don't have a masculine build. I'm not a runner, I'm a jogger, and even that didn't start until a couple of years ago due to exercise-induced asthma. There's no physical ambiguity about what chromosomes I have, but even so I was subject to this sort of ridicule. In middle and high school, I saw absolutely no reason to wear the tight pants and low cut shirts my female cohorts were sporting; I found them decidedly less comfortable than baggy jeans and a flannel over an oversized t-shirt. I've never been one for cosmetics on a regular basis, and I almost never wear my hair down (it tangles!).
But in high school, I suddenly became the target of gender-based ridicule. We went over the differences in male and female anatomy in health, and I got poked and asked in mocking whispers if I wished I had testicles. On the theatre department prop sign out sheet, someone thought it would be funny to "sign out" a strap-on in my name. I caved; I couldn't take it. I went home, cried, shaved my legs and started borrowing my mother's clothes until I could make it to the mall to start acquiring my own. (At the time my mother was dressing more like a 14-year-old girl than I was, so it worked out.)
Caster hasn't done that. She's stuck with who she is, despite far more pressure than I ever had to deal with. She hasn't felt the need to make public appearances wearing make-up and a dress just to prove that she deserves to compete with women, and it's that single fact that has won my admiration.
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There's a diary on the rec list about the preponderance of racism in American culture. And it's true, we have a big problem. But it's very difficult to get up on a stage and say "you should be doing x because you're black" -- you get shouted down and immediately labelled a bigot, and it's only a very fringe sector of society that even dares think you're funny. Sexism is another thing entirely.
One of the main reasons I dressed the way I did, and that I choose the attire that I do now, is because I wish to be seen as a person. As soon as I put on the dress and the mascara, it's as though my brain and eyes disappear, and suddenly my opinions don't matter and I don't know what I'm talking about. I was told explicitly by a male colleague that I got the job I did - as an IT professional - entirely because of affirmative action, though I have a masters degree in computer science and he stopped pursuing his education at the undergraduate level. He got his job on qualifications; I got mine because I'm a girl.
And he had no idea why I was angry.
I don't pretend to know why Caster chooses to dress the way she does, but when I see images of her, I can't help but see the gawky adolescent who just wanted to be treated like a person, not like a sex toy. Maybe I'm out of line -- racism is still a big problem in our culture. But the problem I have is that sexism is so rarely acknowledged as such, to the point where very few people are even aware of it when they do it. It's as ingrained in cultural norms as racism used to be, and it's not going away until we scream loud enough.
Being able to win a women's race without having to show up to the ceremony in a dress is a major step in the right direction. Congratulations again, Caster Semenya.
Update: As though to prove my point, a gaggle of college-age guys have set up camp on a balcony near my apartment and I get to hear them yell "Take it off!" at the more attractive girls walking by. This is not unusual in college towns. More importantly, as a female, if I were to complain about this crass treatment, I would be told I was being "too sensitive". Would you tell a black guy he was being "too sensitive" if some white guy yelled "Shine my shoes!" at him while he walked past?