Rhythmic gymnastics and embodied gender
Friday, November 8th, 2002 09:01 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
robinturnerYesterday I made a lightning tour of the library looking for books on fashion history for Nalan. As I was about to leave, I noticed I was in the sports and games section, and quickly grabbed two books on go and a couple on self-defence, the latter because I may be teaching the self-defence course again next semester (this was a course I co-taught at the local high school last year). One of them was by Yang Jwing Ming and was largely based on White Crane and Long Fist; the other, Martha McCaughy's Real Knockouts: the physical feminism of women's self-defence is a piece of feminist ethnography which I thought might be useful in giving me a better understanding of what self defence might mean to a bunch of teenage girls (it's a mixed class, but last year we had twelve girls and only two boys, and I expect the ratio to be the same next time).
You may well ask what this has to do with rhythmic gymnastics. I have been dutifully ploughing through McCaughy's preliminary chapters, which deal with the construction of femininity, gender and the body and rape culture. I say "dutifully" because this kind of vaguely post-modern feminist writing is not usually my cup of tea: if a book on anything other than linguistics uses the words "narrative" or "discourse" twice in a page, I usually drop it. But I am perservering in the hope that it will help me understand the later chapters, which promise to give more gritty stuff about actual self-defence classes and practical situations.
McCaughy's thesis generally follows the line that gender is socially constructed rather than biologically based, but gives it an interesting twist in claiming that gender is not something superimposed on a biologically-given body, but also shapes the body itself (thus women who learn to fight change both their physical bodies and their perception of what a "body" is). She makes some good points, though I find the denial of biologically-based gender differences untenable (although I used to be pretty close to that position myself in the past). To give a trivial example, the reason why women have better peripheral vision than men, or are better at multi-tasking, is largely neurological (though men can train their peripheral vision and a few even learn to cook and answer the telephone at the same time).
Anyway, I decided to take a break from discourse, narrative, construction and the rest, and switched on the television, to find Eurosport showing a rhythmic gymnastics championship. Having grown up with a male idea of what sport is about, I find rhythmic gymnastics to be one of the weirdest sports around. My idea of sport is a bunch of big sweaty guys doing something with a ball (which was probably why I was never into sports much at school), not a succession of skinny teenage girls doing improbable things with not only balls but also hoops, skipping ropes and little twirly baton thingies. On the other hand, it's very impressive - I keep thinking "How the hell did she do that?" A rhythmic gymnasts goes through years of strenuous, competitive and probably very painful training so that she can get one and a half minutes of glory spinning a hoop while holding her foot on her shoulder. I'm not sure if this kind of dedication should be applauded or made illegal.
Coming back to gender and the body, rhythmic gymnastics is paradoxical. On the one hand it emphasises a particular kind of little-girl femininity (let's face it, big girls don't stand a chance - reach child-bearing age and it's time to start thinking about your retirement plans). They have thin, delicate bodies and wear skimpy spangly tunics that make them look like pixies in a school play. On the other hand, those frail-looking bodies are rock hard, and rhythmic gymnastics is also one of the few sports that men can't do. I don't mean they couldn't do as well as women, I mean they couldn't do it at all. If rhythmic gymnastics is an example of an embodied feminity, it is not a male-defined femininity, I think. Ask the average drongo down at Joe's Bar 'n' Diner or the Duck and Drake what women's sports he likes to watch, and the answer would be either "Women can't do sport" or "Mud-wrestling."
Still, I can't help feeling that the world would be a better place if rather than twirling hoops and batons, girls would put the same energy and dedication into learning to fight. Martial arts are just as aesthetic, and you get the added advantage that you learn to kick serious ass. the clothes and accesories are better, too.
This is OK,
But this is better ....
You may well ask what this has to do with rhythmic gymnastics. I have been dutifully ploughing through McCaughy's preliminary chapters, which deal with the construction of femininity, gender and the body and rape culture. I say "dutifully" because this kind of vaguely post-modern feminist writing is not usually my cup of tea: if a book on anything other than linguistics uses the words "narrative" or "discourse" twice in a page, I usually drop it. But I am perservering in the hope that it will help me understand the later chapters, which promise to give more gritty stuff about actual self-defence classes and practical situations.
McCaughy's thesis generally follows the line that gender is socially constructed rather than biologically based, but gives it an interesting twist in claiming that gender is not something superimposed on a biologically-given body, but also shapes the body itself (thus women who learn to fight change both their physical bodies and their perception of what a "body" is). She makes some good points, though I find the denial of biologically-based gender differences untenable (although I used to be pretty close to that position myself in the past). To give a trivial example, the reason why women have better peripheral vision than men, or are better at multi-tasking, is largely neurological (though men can train their peripheral vision and a few even learn to cook and answer the telephone at the same time).
Anyway, I decided to take a break from discourse, narrative, construction and the rest, and switched on the television, to find Eurosport showing a rhythmic gymnastics championship. Having grown up with a male idea of what sport is about, I find rhythmic gymnastics to be one of the weirdest sports around. My idea of sport is a bunch of big sweaty guys doing something with a ball (which was probably why I was never into sports much at school), not a succession of skinny teenage girls doing improbable things with not only balls but also hoops, skipping ropes and little twirly baton thingies. On the other hand, it's very impressive - I keep thinking "How the hell did she do that?" A rhythmic gymnasts goes through years of strenuous, competitive and probably very painful training so that she can get one and a half minutes of glory spinning a hoop while holding her foot on her shoulder. I'm not sure if this kind of dedication should be applauded or made illegal.
Coming back to gender and the body, rhythmic gymnastics is paradoxical. On the one hand it emphasises a particular kind of little-girl femininity (let's face it, big girls don't stand a chance - reach child-bearing age and it's time to start thinking about your retirement plans). They have thin, delicate bodies and wear skimpy spangly tunics that make them look like pixies in a school play. On the other hand, those frail-looking bodies are rock hard, and rhythmic gymnastics is also one of the few sports that men can't do. I don't mean they couldn't do as well as women, I mean they couldn't do it at all. If rhythmic gymnastics is an example of an embodied feminity, it is not a male-defined femininity, I think. Ask the average drongo down at Joe's Bar 'n' Diner or the Duck and Drake what women's sports he likes to watch, and the answer would be either "Women can't do sport" or "Mud-wrestling."
Still, I can't help feeling that the world would be a better place if rather than twirling hoops and batons, girls would put the same energy and dedication into learning to fight. Martial arts are just as aesthetic, and you get the added advantage that you learn to kick serious ass. the clothes and accesories are better, too.
This is OK,
But this is better ....
