An open letter to the NBC Network
So. The Olympics are coming to a close- coming to a close after an incredible, ground breaking (and record breaking) display of talent and skill from athletes across nations. From Simone Biles to Usain Bolt, from Michael Phelps to the OâDonnonvan brothers, records have been shattered at an astonishing level this year. But, with these Olympics, another issue has been brought to light, one bigger than this competition, and bigger than any one of those athletes. Itâs the same issue that caused Fox news reporters to criticize our new American gold medalist gymnast for her hair, and commenting that he would not like to watch women compete if they finished their race, routine, or game looking like âa washed out ragâ or that âher zits are showing.â Itâs the same issue that caused countless news stations to credit a womanâs gold medal to her husbandâs work rather than her own. Itâs the same issue that made an Olympic swimmer mentioning the challenges posed by her menstrual cycle, be considered âgroundbreakingâ and âshocking.â And itâs the same issue that I cannot ignore when I am unable to watch the sports I love and the athletes I admire because my broadcasting service decides that I, as a woman, donât really care about the competition or sport, but really only actually care about the Olympics as a âreality showâ designed as simple, mindless entertainment.
When I hit the water in a rowing shell, when I move in unison with my teammates, I do not do it for the fun of it. Often, itâs not fun at all. It hurts. It hurts like hell and back, hurts like fire and electricity rippling through my muscles. But I do it because it makes me feel powerful. I do it because when I am hurting like words I cannot voice, like I cannot explain, I know that every woman in front of and behind me is feeling the same, in time and in harmony with me. It is an orchestra of pain and determination and strength and passion. It is beautiful. That is the essence of the Olympic games, the beauty and passion and flow of sport, the pain turned to pride, the failures building to victory. This is what I know in my heart as a rower- this is what all of the women who stand by me as my teammates and my friends know as rowers, as runners and gymnasts, as swimmers and divers and hurdlers and weight lifters. This is what we, as women, know. It is what we have earned as athletes. So no, I do not want to watch a washed out reality show when I turn on the Olympics. I donât care about the gymnastsâ diets, or exactly who so-and-so was seen flirting with in the Olympic village. What I care about is turning on the TV and seeing women who aspire like me, who push like me and fight like me and refuse to give up. I want to see women I can look up to and admire for their persistence and strength. I want to see women valued for the very same things their men counterparts are valued for: their form, technique, strength and talent.
Perhaps, just now, we are too entranced with the glitter and flash of mediaâs vanity to reach that point just now. Possibly, then, we women just have to âbe patientâ until the time comes when we can be judged by our ability over our skin or hair or makeup. Maybe we just have to wait a few more years until we can openly talk about our bodies, the functions they perform and how they affect our athletic performances and abilities, without being considered radicals.
It might be a personal flaw, but Iâm not terribly patient. I understand, as a network, the goal is the same: to attract views. But perhaps then the ideal way to do that is to consider real women and the athletes that they are, to consider that women fight and sweat and achieve in the same way and with the same passion as men, and that maybe, just maybe, if you can show five hours of unadulterated football, that they can honor the conglomeration of culture, passion, talent and spirit that is the Olympics enough to show all athletes of any gender, equal respect. And the same respect, in fact, to both of their viewers.