What About the Girls?

The pavement on 135^th is pulsating with competing stereos. The street is blocked off for the entire width of the neighborhood. This Summer Saturday morning is dedicated to the annual celebration that is Harlem Day. Vendors line each side with everything from bootlegged DVDs, African art, black power propaganda, the usual suspects of fried food, gourmet cupcakes, a voter registration booth, and a live ESPN radio broadcast. The traditional Harlem character was mixed in with a sprinkling of gentrification.

Too early to eat fried food, a crowd quickly gathered around the ESPN sports commentator, Stephen A. Smith, who was spouting off the usual sports stats. Sitting with the quick-witted analyst was a white man who looked slightly uncomfortable under the curious scrutiny of a swelling pack. After a brief introduction, we learned that he is a program director of the local lacrosse league. He spoke about the need to encourage urban youth through a team sport like lacrosse to create tomorrow’s leaders. Through lacrosse, which is an admittedly upper middle class sport that is often confined to the New England states, he believed the transformative power of this unconventional team sport. As a former lacrosse player, his words spoke to me and I was proud to hear this public endorsement, especially in Harlem.

Unfortunately, within a few minutes it was clear that his words of encouragement and enthusiasm were targeted for adolescent boys, not girls. Immediately enraged, I whispered to my boyfriend, “What about the girls?” Fully aware of my athletic past, he shrugged and told me that I should ask. I waved off the suggestion, as I didn’t see this as an opportunity to agitate gender disparity norms during this festive day. Besides, the middle-aged men who surrounded me would surely be annoyed with my slighted inquiry. My indignant attitude shrunk back to its previous anonymous and silent audience member status, listening to a show that is designed to keep me in the shadows.

 

Sensing my discontent, my well-intentioned boyfriend, offered to ask the radio personality for me. Further fueling my feelings of marginalization and alienation, I wanted to scold him that I was not a damsel in distress that needs a man to do her bidding. I can stand up for myself.

The scene played out in my head. If I had asked the question, I imagined men grumbling under their breath or walking away while the analyst makes some lowbrowjoke at my expense. The fictional scene played out again, except this time my boyfriend asked. While still generally ignored, he was heard. A few eyebrowsraisewhile the analyst directs the question to his guest, who flusters around for a politically correct answer without actually saying anything of substance.

Why were the scenes so different? I’m not sure what is worse: the fact that my predictions could be right or that I had them in the first place. Instead of immediately asking the question, I was acutely aware of my audience and how my defiance would be perceived due to my gender.

Uncomfortable with this incongruence in beliefs and actions, I could feel myself trying to rationalize my reticence. A progressive gender equality endorsement is weighted heavier when it is coming from a man in this testosterone-filled audience. My question would be too loaded and make people feel uncomfortable.Accentuating the disparity between me and the dominantly male audience, it would bring them acutely aware of what I had been feeling since I had arrived. While if a man asked, there would be different implications.

Women are immediately written off as bitter feminists when questioning the status quo. There is an implicit assumption that she is adversely affected by some clichéd sad story and is now lashing out and is overcome by her emotions. The legitimacy of her argument is overruled by her gender.  Conversely, men’s motives for gender enlightenment are rarely analyzed.

Hesitant to be pigeonholed as a feminist, I am often reluctant to speak my mind. Feeling conflicted between my desires to assert my feminine independence with wanting to engage men to join our cause through proactive supportive actions. Years of repressive culture has ingrained in me that I am inferior in ways that are beyond my consciousness.

Looking back at my subliminal influences, I gained my first impressions of gender relations from the media. Through movies, I learned how a woman’s value is intrinsically linked to their physical attributes, their happiness is defined by their relationships (or perhaps more notable, the lack of relationships), and their success is measured through their maternal capabilities.

Those influences played an indirect role in my silence that day. Through this systemic marginalization and alienation, I had become unknowing accomplice that bolstered the status quo. As I walked away, contemplating the importance of challenging the current state of affairs weighed on me. My comfort in conformity is overshadowed by my unremitting marginalized dignity.

I will be an active participant in my life instead of the passive recipient that I am expected to be. I refuse to allow myself to perpetuate this cycle of alienation and indignity through soundless inaction, instead I vow to engage the system at every level and challenge its inequalities, one question at a time.