The following is an excerpt from a fan letter I recently sent to the great tennis pro. I am far from an athlete, but I admire her for both her athletic acuity and her courage. I thought I'd share, since it's short and sweet.
I was about 9 when my Dad bought my first racquet: a Billie Jean King signature Wilson, made of wood too heavy for my flimsy wrists. Dad taught all his kids to play and even paid for lessons, but none of us can beat him even now, and he's 83 (although I won a set once when he had shoulder surgery and played right-handed). He still plays almost every day.
At the time, I remember his being thrilled to buy such a good racquet at half-price, and I remember asking him why it was so cheap. He said, "these idiots in this redneck town won't buy them because Ms King likes women instead of men." I was too young to really get that, but I understood that my DAD thought she was the bee's knees and couldn't care less about whom she liked to kiss goodnight! Further, he respected her as an athlete, as interesting and exciting to watch as the men, and worthy of equal pay. I grew up knowing I could do anything, as far as he was concerned, that a man could do. I think he was disappointed that I didn't want to be an engineer like him!
That afternoon shopping trip was also my first lesson in tolerance for gays. My second came a few years later when my beloved uncle was outed to me by his manner of death. Far from being ashamed, my parents exhibited nothing but compassion for his partner and deep grief, and I never considered that any family would feel otherwise.
I watched American Masters tonight, and learned more about why Ms King is such an heroic figure. If it hadn't been for her efforts, there would be no Serena and Venus. There would be no Tiger. There would be no Rachel Maddow. There might not even be a President Obama. Her single-minded determination to question patriarchy and tradition outshone her personal ambition, so more than a sports figure, she is a leader.
How ugly our country must have been when she and my parents were children. It's difficult for me to imagine at age 45, and thankfully even more difficult for my teenage boys to comprehend. They take for granted that their friends can be gay, black, brown, poor, handicapped, or female, and that it is better if they are. They would be completely baffled (even more than I was) at my half-priced racquet, so symbolic of narrow-minded conservative "values."