Do you remember Kerri Strug’s famous second vault at the 1996 Olympics in Atlanta?
I remember. I remember being fascinated and horrified as the world watched her, injured, complete her second vault, then collapse, and be carried by her coach, the iconic Bela Karolyi. She was a hero.
This was abuse.
In what kind of world do we ask an injured young woman to injure herself further for our enjoyment of a game? The Olympics is a game.
In reflecting back from today to then, I picture Kerri as a young teenager, a young girl.
I was shocked to recognize today that Kerri was an eighteen-year-old young woman in 1996.
And she had no personal agency to be able to say no.
I did gymnastics at a private club for many years as a girl and young teen. We were not given the agency to say no. If a coach decided we were not working hard enough, he would punish us with repetitions of painful exercises. I remember a coach asking – well, requiring – a tiny pre-teen girl to do a dangerous skill. Mercifully she was okay. My breath catches in my throat as I try to write about these experiences, and these are experiences that may not even fully cross the line into abuse.
We now know that many gymnasts suffered abuse through USA Gymnastics. I read stories that are unimaginable. Tragically, gymnasts continue to be abused. Abusive coaches remain in their positions. Gymnasts have died. Gymnasts have been permanently maimed. It sounds like something from a battlefield. Thankfully Kerri survived.
Back at my gymnastics club, I do not know what would have happened if a girl had said no to a coach. I do not remember it every occurring to us that we could. There was no consent asked or given. I felt trapped, ashamed, hopeless.
Eventually I left and never went back.
This summer we saw twenty-four-year-old Simone Biles say no.
It was not without cost. We watched as various social media pundits slammed her in just about every way possible. It was disgusting to watch.
But the rest of us, all over the world, saw Simone’s strength. We celebrated her, we thanked her for her example to all of us, we breathed a breath of relief that things are changing.
May we become people who do not put up with abuse on our watch.
May we speak up and join our voices with the voices of those silenced for so long.
Thank you, Simone.
About: Jenny Switkes is a professor of mathematics at California State Polytechnic University, Pomona, where she has the joy of mentoring many first-generation college students from diverse backgrounds. She also serves as a volunteer pastor at Rise OC Church in Costa Mesa, California.
Photo by Angel Balashev on Unsplash