When I was young, I really wanted to play baseball. Not softball – baseball. Unfortunately, baseball was for boys. Fortunately, I have a rather persuasive father, who convinced one of our family friends to agree to have me on the team he was coaching, provided I could get registered properly. And, after much discussion about the baseball program’s guidelines not stating anywhere that girls weren’t allowed, I presented my birth certificate to verify my age, and I was registered.
As you can imagine, there was a great deal of outrage that a girl was playing, and it came from other teams, parents, members of the community and even a local newspaper.
It wasn’t easy to show up at practice where I was teased behind my back, but I kept going, because I loved baseball. Over the years, various members of my family would come to the games, and they routed me on with enthusiasm and love.
After my first season, the program changed its name from “Baseball for Boys” to “Baseball for Youth”, and girls were allowed equal access to baseball in my city.
When I was going into seventh grade, girls took homemaking and boys took shop. The thing is, I wanted to take shop. This time, my mother did the talking. Of course, there was nothing that said a girl couldn’t take shop. The school told my mother that their policy was for girls to take homemaking and boys to take shop. Fortunately, my mother is also very persuasive, and ultimately, I was allowed to sign up for and to take shop.
This time, I was actually bullied by my teacher. He was angry that he had to let a girl into his shop class. At one point, he broke into my shop locker and went through my things. He found a notebook that had some doodles that had the middle finger prominently displayed, along with some stylized handwritten curse words (not proud of this last part, but I admit I had drawn these things on the inside of my notebook). I had been working on a project and was awaiting my turn at the sanding station, when I was summoned to the school counselor’s office. When I got there, my mother was in one chair, and my counselor was behind his desk with my notebook in front of him. Rest assured, I was nervous.
My counselor began by explaining that drawings such as the ones in my notebook were unacceptable at school, and that I could be suspended for having them. He asked if I understood, and I said I did. I then asked him how he got my notebook. He said my teacher brought it up to him. When I explained that it was in my locker and that I hadn’t given the teacher the combination, my mom leaned forward in her chair and asked if that was true. After getting confirmation that in fact, the teacher had entered my locker without permission, my mother made it clear that the teacher had acted unethically, and that she expected the school to take action to reprimand him. (In case you were wondering, when we got home there were consequences for the contents of my notebook.)
I went back to shop class the next day, and while the tension between me and my shop teacher was palpable, I continued my work on my project. I also went on to complete the year as the only girl in shop.
The following year, shop was open to girls, and homemaking was open to boys.
Here’s what’s important about these stories for me.
Each time, one of my parents stood behind me so that I could follow a passion for something. I learned that standing with someone who is passionate about something is a gift that was given to me, and that I could give to someone else. I learned that change can be frightening to some people, and that the push back is not always kind or even reasonable. This makes it challenging to be in the front of the line, leading the change. And, I learned that the challenges I am willing to walk through help to strengthen me, which I can then share with others.
Today, as I Walk for Peace, I take these lessons with me. I invite people to share their passions with me. I support them in whatever way I can. When I notice myself or someone else being fearful, I look for the strength to walk through the fear, and I encourage others to do the same.
And by the way, I’m still an avid baseball fan. I also still enjoy working in a shop.
