It’s not uncommon to hear “Yeah the girls” and “Yeah girls” echoing as the Oxford Brookes women race down the Wallingford straight. It could be deemed bizarre if not heard, the yells of encouragement down the 1.5km time trial course being shouted from the men’s and women’s crews alike.
Part of me loves it, training and racing in an atmosphere where the squad thrives through motivating each other, cheering on their peers regardless of boat type, which side of the squad they are on, and not prioritising the crews at the top of the squad hierarchy. In those moments, everyone is the same – you cheer on and support your squad regardless. It is a clear, distinct display of sportsmanship, a shining example of how a competitive club should operate.
Yet, something doesn’t quite sit right with the “yeah the girls” we call out.
After speaking to my crewmates about why they insistently referred to themselves in the cheers as “girls” and not “women” and whether they ever saw an issue with it, I chose to make a point of sticking with yelling, “Yeah, Brookes”, for a while.
To me at the time, it echoed a similar experience I had had in junior rowing. We had been referred to as “schoolgirls” numerous times, but the junior men we rowed with at the same club were only ever referred to as such “junior men” and not “boys”. I found it rather odd that this unequal labelling continued at university.
It seems like a way of labelling female athletes not to be taken as seriously as their male counterparts, a reflection of the broader treatment of women in sports. Infantilisation shows up in various ways in the male-dominated world of sports – with historic and ongoing treatment of female athletes as lesser or like children, thus patronising and undermining their athletic capabilities.
For example, in previous world rowing championships, female athletes in their mid-20s to early 30s have been referred to as “girls” on supposedly professional commentary when some are even eligible for masters categories! On a similar note, in post-event world championship interviews, female athletes who have medaled are asked when they are planning on stepping down with mentions of outdated stereotypes such as “biological clocks”. Not only is this highly inappropriate, it is outright disrespectful and often completely sidelines their impressive achievements. Meanwhile, men are asked questions like how it feels to win, what was going through their minds at the finish, or how they plan to return stronger next year. The double standard is glaring.
Whilst I acknowledge that rowing and other similar sports are undeniably traditional, with a long history of unfortunate gender inequalities that persist, surely, there’s space to acknowledge female athletes properly instead of diminishing their accomplishments.
And so I was even more puzzled as to why Brooke’s women, who continue to dominate the rowing scene refer to themselves as girls.
Whilst watching a Brooke’s fixture against Cambridge fixture this year, a friend who rows on the Putney embankment shared a similar sentiment. “But they’re not girls, they’re women”, she said. “I don’t get it. Don’t you find it a bit infantilizing or feel patronised by it?”
Up until that point, I hadn’t seen it as necessarily infantilising, but after that comment, I couldn’t unsee it.
Until speaking to my crewmates, I too was confused as to why they would purposefully do that, to almost demean themselves, to reduce themselves as athletes. I asked both men and women at the club how they felt about the women being called “girls.” There was a wide sweep of varied responses. Some shared my frustration, feeling it was patronising, particularly in professional settings. They felt it reinforced the idea that they weren’t taken seriously as professional athletes, as if being part of the “girls’ squad” made them feel “less competent” than the men.
Some attributed it to Bailhache-Webb’s reputable preference for the unanimous “Yeah Brookes” call, a whole club identifier.
On the other hand, some men chalked it up to tradition, suggesting that “it’s only an issue if you see it as an issue” and simply to just get “stuck in”. Others said: “It’s just easier to say.”
While seemingly accurate, at least on the surface, these dismissals felt pessimistic and outdated deeper down, reinforcing the historically unequal treatment of women in this sport, and creating a precedent for this to continue in the future.
Although one answer did change my point of view, with only a few lines.
“It’s what we are, embrace it,”.
Intrigued, I asked my teammate to elaborate. She explained that whilst coaches may refer to us as “guys and girls” or “the men and the girls” out of an unconscious bias, “it’s what we are” and we should just “embrace it”.
Whilst some female athletes may choose to adorn themselves in pink, such as sports bras, gym shirts or even kinetic tape and even plait their hair in intricate ways, we do so not to minimise ourselves within stereotypes and take away from athletic achievements but instead we choose to embrace these once-patriarchal symbols and redefine them as empowering, a way of challenging the androcentric norms of the sport.
While macro feminism addresses systemic and structural gender inequalities, micro feminism tackles everyday sexism through small, deliberate actions. Brookes women have endured systematic bias since the programme’s inception, and have reforged the once condescending comment “Yeah, the girls” from its potentially patronising origins and turned it into a source of empowerment within the squad, a mantra that is inclusive of all in the women’s squad.
Though some feel the language undermines their professionalism, others see it as a pragmatic nod to tradition, depending on individual perception, of course. Embracing gendered language as empowerment speaks to these younger influenceable athletes; it reflects a broader movement of micro feminism, with small actions helping to redefine larger societal norms whilst rejecting their once patriarchal connotations.
In the context of the Brookes women’s “Yeah the girls”, reclaiming and redefining this call represents a shift from a once patronisation to empowerment. By reframing this language, the women’s squad embraces their femininity whilst challenging the linguistic and societal conventions of athleticism in a once male-dominated sport. By accepting and reworking once negative patriarchal symbolism associated with femininity, these athletes can assert their identity as both women and athletes, blazing the trail for more inclusive treatment of women in sport.
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