Wrestling
It sounds crazy.
Dieting for six months. Sprinting in a room heated to around ninety degrees. Starving in order to be the perfect weight, limiting myself to only palm sized meals and bottle caps of water. Facing the constant threat of permanent deformity and infectious skin diseases. Yeah, it sounds crazy.
But this is wrestling, and it’s worth it.
Why?
Because, despite these conditions, the feeling I get when I win a match is like no other experience in the world. There’s no equipment other than my own physical and mental strength, and when I’m wrestling, it’s me versus my competitor, each of us fighting for respect.
But that respect isn’t easy to come by. Especially when you’re the captain of the team.
Especially when you’re a girl.
In some ways, being “the girl” has advantages: I’m treated like family and, if I have a problem, my teammates are there for me. In comparison to other wrestling teams, ours is quite progressive in that I’m allowed to wrestle boys. However, observe any one of my practices and you’ll undoubtedly hear the phrase, “Are you gonna let a girl beat you?” at least once.
Interestingly, being a girl is directly related to my opponents being unable to counter my attacks. I can, and have, pinned every guy on the team at least once, excluding the 200 pounders.
With each take-down or pin that I score, an excuse is not far behind.
“I wasn’t trying,” they’ll say.
Inevitably, I’ll have to prove myself in a rematch, one in which my teammate will “actually try.”
My dilemma is this: if I lose, I affirm my teammate’s preconception that I am the feebler sex, and will be expelled into the lower-level groups. One mistake could mean being classified as a bad wrestler, nullifying an entire season of victories. However, if I do win the rematch, it only means more trials and examinations of my abilities. I have to maintain my winning streak in order to preserve the validity of my skills as a wrestler. If not, my victories are regarded as a series of lucky maneuvers. Because of this, there is pressure on me during every drill, workout, and match to prove that I belong on the team. I am permanently assigned to the spotlight.
Being in this position for so long has left me with only two options: to give up or toughen up. But I’m not one to back down from a challenge and I’ve learned to turn the off-hand comments into motivation to work harder and be better. I’ve also learned not to rely on validation from others and I’ve developed a strong sense of self worth.
And you know what? It’s worth it, because with every victory I win for myself, I counteract the misconceptions and stereotype for all female athletes, and expose the truth: that female athletes can be just as skilled as boys in physical sports, and sometimes even crush them.
Not bad, for a girl.