A weighty issue

By Leo D. Rommel

Just for the record, I’m 5-foot- 7 and weigh 194 pounds (I know, I’m a hefty one). That should mean nothing, but I’ve revealed more information than can be found openly about female athletes.

The enactment of Title IX – the federal legislation ordering equal opportunity for female athletes attending American universities – was a beautiful thing. After all, without it, Rider wouldn’t have a dominant field hockey team, the U.S. wouldn’t have a soccer World Cup champion and most importantly, girls wouldn’t have had the chance to grow up confident and strong.

But it seems that the equality for female sports only goes so far. While all media and online school rosters habitually list the height and weight of their male players, the greater part do not do the same for their female teams. Normally, only their heights are given.

Bud Focht, sports information director of Rider Athletics, explained that the differential treatment is not formalized.

“There is no policy about [withholding a female athlete’s weight],” Focht said. “However, the MAAC does have a style guide that all schools have to follow.”

Rider field hockey star Stephanie Walker was surprised when she learned that only the men’s teams at Rider displayed their weights and not the women’s. However, when asked if she would have a problem if her weight was listed, she said she wouldn’t care.

“It wouldn’t bother me,” said Walker. “But some girls are overly sensitive to the issue.”

I know, keeping weights under wraps seems like a small and irrelevant thing, but it neutralizes the strength and freedom that Title IX was supposed to give females. The top players in all sports nationwide should not be frightened to represent themselves as they truly are. They should be more concerned about winning championships than about hiding their actual weight.

Though unimportant, the practice shines uncertainty on the supposed equality of esteem that has been earned by women’s players. Female athletes have warranted their fair share of fans and support. They can make a rock-solid claim that they can go head-to-head with men’s teams, but apparently they’re not willing to stand on the same scale.

That fear denies a chance to provide young women with healthy, realistic role models at a time when our culture is brainwashed continuously with the bogus belief that only women who look like stick figures are acceptable. Easily influenced young girls would almost certainly be calmed to know that they have more in common with their athletic peers than they thought. Without knowing the weights of the players how can girls terminate the concept that weighing 80 pounds is ideal?

The importance of the issue cannot be underestimated, particularly with the number of girls who deal with eating disorders. Anorexia nervosa and bulimia are just a couple of the disorders that can, in certain situations, be lethal.

Given the probable implications, it’s logical that coaches might suppose that their players are not off the hook from the burden that can prompt an eating disorder. Anorexia, for instance, sometimes appears in females who are go-getters; sportspersons who push themselves daily. If that doesn’t portray female athletes, nothing does.

That might justify the basis behind the weight exclusion. It’s likely that coaches want to remove the pressure of their players comparing themselves to others. People who combat eating disorders often suggest that a single remark or criticism set off their intense reaction to how they relate to food.

Then again, steering clear of the situation may make it worse. Keeping weights hush-hush implies that some shame is in existence, thus amplifying the idea that civilization has a different standard for females.

Keep in mind that men, who have had their weights listed for decades, have lower rates of eating disorders than women do. Male competitors haven’t been taught to conceal any facet of their body – other than an abnormal tendency to always record themselves as a little bit taller than they truthfully are. Maybe because their weight is shared, and has been for so years on end, the secrecy and humiliation surrounding the topic doesn’t exist.

Everyone knows that muscle weighs more than fat. Hence, an athlete who is fit can equal someone who is fatter. Once again, this is an excellent chance for women’s sports to dismiss the falsehood that weight in and of itself is bad, and to demonstrate that being strong and healthy is far more important than any number on a scale.

College sports continue to grow annually. The attention that surrounds college athletes is significantly more noticeable than it was 20 years ago. Therefore, their actions echo with more impact than ever before. Hiding weight like it’s a discomforting, secretive fact merely supports unconstructive female stereotypes.

Many can bicker that it shouldn’t matter what the players weigh. I would agree. In fact, for most sports, weight is not relative. However, as long as those numbers remain concealed, they oddly gain more and more magnitude – or why would there be any reason to keep them private?

Title IX gave women the credibility they should have had all along: that they are equal (and some cases, superior) to men athletically. Nothing, absolutely nothing, should stand in the way of that.

Not even a few pounds.