Gymnastics
got me into the 'girl world' but I kick butt in tackle
football
By Megan C Tschida
September 22, 2006 | My brothers are one and two years
older than me and growing up I was very close to them.
I would wear a tee shirt and shorts, and avoid dresses
and skirts as much as possible. I was what they would
call a tomboy. My mom told me that as soon as I could
walk, I would do anything and everything my brothers
were doing.
I was a girl who would challenge whoever wanted to
say that girls can't play ball. I could run faster than
most of the kids (except my brothers) and was pretty
strong for my age. In fact, no one would mess with me.
If they did, I could defend myself.
Playing with girls was just not my thing; I would
rather go out and get myself dirty. The only thing that
would connect me with the doll world was gymnastics.
I loved gymnastics, and it is a dominant girl sport.
Plus this sport helped me get stronger and work my fast
twitch muscles. This did not change the fact that I
was a tomboy; it just gave me a connection to the female
world.
One day we were playing tackle football in my backyard.
It was a normal game, at least that's what I thought.
My team was winning and my brother threw me a pass,
which I caught and ran for a touch down. When I stopped
and looked back I had realized that a couple of my neighbor
kids could have tackled me and did not. What's the deal?
My oldest brother, who was on the other team, started
yelling at his teammates. He asked why they had not
tackled me. "She's a girl!" they yelled. For a quick
second my mind was pouring with thought after thought:
What do they mean I'm a girl? It never bothered them
before... I am not a girl... ha, I'll show them.
The next play the other team started out with the
ball. I needed to do everything in my power to tackle
someone on the other team. The ball was kicked and one
of the boys from across my street caught it. This kid
was fast, but I knew that I could get him. I started
running. Nothing was going to stop me, and nothing did.
I hit him right underneath the shoulder. He went down
so fast he couldn't figure out what hit him. Lying on
the green grass I could feel my adrenaline pumping as
I bit my lip and smirked. Ha, now what? The rug
burn that had developed on my arm was a pleasure pain,
and the grass stain on my pants was something I hoped
would never wash off. I stood up and looked around at
the other kids. My brother gave me a high-five and told
me it was a nice tackle.
The kid I tackled got up and quickly yelled out that
it was not fair. My team told him it was a fair tackle
and told him to deal with the fact he got tackled by
a girl. But he continued to shout that no one else would
tackle me and so it was not fair that I could tackle
them. I told him to tackle me then, and he shot right
back with he did not want to hurt me.
As I stood there everything and everyone froze like
we were stuck in a picture. I realized that I was the
only girl there. I looked down at my chest where my
new training bra was that my Mom insisted I wear. I
started thinking of the girls in my class. They did
not accept me the way the guys did, until now. They
were all developing breasts and wearing make-up. They
no longer thought it was cool to play games with the
boys, and now no longer did the boys. I slowly walked
away like I had been slapped across the face and there
was absolutely nothing I could do about it.
>From that day on I learned that society puts you
in a place that is inescapable. You cannot get away
with being a tomboy forever, and be accepted with your
peers.
The one thing that always had connected me was gymnastics.
So it was easier to change my ways and become a girly
girl. I had to learn to wear skirts, tight jeans, tank
tops, and eventually I learned to put on make-up. The
girls started accepting me as a girl, and so did the
boys. I still played some games with the boys in the
neighborhood, but had to stop every once in a while
and complain that "I broke a nail."
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