A Seat At The Table
When the internal and external narratives of who you are don't match up
A couple of weeks ago, I received an email inviting me to participate in a roundtable discussion hosted by the United Nations Population Fund (UNFPA), the UN’s sexual and reproductive health agency. They recently launched the Equity 2030 Alliance focused on equitable design and closing the gender gap in science, tech, and financing.
For this meeting, they are considering the needs of women athletes and are bringing together, in their words, “industry pioneers, including manufacturers, academia, and sports professionals.” Would I come to a meeting at the Harvard Kennedy School?
Of course, I thought they emailed the wrong person.
To be honest, I also thought that this was a panel discussion. I wasn’t sure if it was worth my time to take a day off from work and travel to Boston for a two hour event. But there was a part of me that thought why not. Plus, it has been 20 years since I graduated from the Kennedy School and I haven’t been back since. “I’d love to join you,” I responded.
When I walked into the conference room, I realized that I was wrong. I wasn’t there for a panel for the students. I was there to sit at the table with an immensely accomplished group of women. It wasn’t just a theoretical case study like the many I discussed with my classmates in the same building on the same campus. We were there to figure out how to design better products, what’s needed to move things forward, how do we embed systems of accountability, and what we, as a group, could do together.
I had to laugh because the whole situation felt so ironic and yet it also felt like a full circle. I went to the Kennedy School in part because I wanted to work in international health, specifically on issues related to reproductive health. I applied for jobs at all the big agencies upon graduation, including UNFPA, but didn’t get any offers. I ended up moving back to New York and started working at a nonprofit organization, designing and developing workforce and economic development programs. So to be in that room 20 years later to talk about sports with the UNFPA? It was gratifying in so many ways.
And it seems a little weird, right? Why is sports part of this conversation about equitable design? Life science, healthcare, tech, financing—those all make sense. Those are major levers that have broad global impact; they affect a lot of people. But sports? Isn’t that a bit niche?
It’s a question that I grappled with my book1, especially when it came to marketing it. It’s likely why my book was categorized under exercise and women’s health versus sports or science. Only a small portion of the population competes at a high level or identifies as an athlete. Or at least a lot of us are likely to brush off the label and say, “Oh, I’m not an athlete. I just like to run/swim/hike/whatever-your-preferred-activity here.” We have this idea that sports is reserved for a certain type of person. We think of Olympians and pro athletes.
But sports, and physical activity more broadly, have everything to do with health. It has so much social and cultural resonance. It can be a powerful point of connection.
For me, one of the most salient points of our discussion came back to who is included in these conversations, in the design process, in the research. Because women athletes, especially at the professional level, are the exception. They are the resilient ones, the ones who have made it despite the crappy gear, lack of support and pay, and endless hurdles. There are so many others who have dropped out along the way and really, those are the people who need to learn from. And we need to do it in a way that doesn’t put all the responsibility to educate and lead the change process on women and athletes themselves.
In my report cards, my teachers from elementary school through high school often shared a common sentiment, something along the lines of: “I’d love to hear Christine’s voice more in class!” or “Christine has so many great ideas. I wish that she would share them in class with her classmates.”
“Although she had improved, she continues to hold back from class discussion. It tends to move very quickly and Christine needs more practice in expressing ideas clearly and quickly. She tends to take notes (excellent ones, thank you), but she leaves the discussion to others.” - My 7th grade English teacher
I don’t deny it. I didn’t always speak up in class. I wasn’t great at thinking on my feet. I remember furiously taking notes in 7th grade English class, trying to transcribe the whole discussion verbatim. The discussion moved so fast and I needed those notes so that I could make sense of the books we read and the larger themes at my own pace.
What I didn’t realize at the time was that I process information by writing. I learn best that way. When I studied for tests, I would literally rewrite my notes. Somehow, the process of transcribing each word gave my brain enough time to chew over the ideas and make sense of them. But at the time, I don’t think we made room for different ways of learning and processing information. Because I wasn’t speaking up in class regularly, I felt somehow deficient and it affected how I saw myself as a student.
It’s still a phantom that haunts me and something I feel like I actively have to “fix” because the only way you’re a good team player and contributor is if you speak up. Anxiety still bubbles up every time I realize I haven’t said anything in a meeting. It’s a feeling that’s reinforced when I do say something and am met with blank stares and then someone makes the same point a few minutes later and it sparks agreement and discussion around the room. Didn’t I just say the same thing? It makes me feel like I’m speaking a foreign language. Or maybe I just don’t articulate myself very well.
All of those feelings simmered under the surface as I sat in that meeting last week at Harvard. The other people in the room all have more industry experience or more experience with sports on a global stage. What do I have to contribute? Why am I here again? Am I blowing it?
I know that there will always be people who have louder voices than me, who can speak more eloquently and succinctly off the cuff, who always have a million ideas on the tip of their tongue. But that’s not me.
I didn’t end up contributing much to the conversation but I realized that that wasn’t necessarily my role here, especially in this first meeting. The things I do well are listening and asking questions, synthesizing information, and pulling on threads until I find the one that connects everything together. That’s why I’m a journalist and writer.
The funny thing is that I actually found my old report cards after I started writing this newsletter. It turns out, it was just my 7th grade English teacher who made the comment about my class participation. My other teachers all said that I was actively engaged in class and regularly participated in the class discussion.
Yet that one comment created this whole internal narrative of how I viewed myself—the shy, quiet one who doesn’t have anything to contribute. I don’t deny that I am shy and an introvert. Those are facts. But the other part? Oof.
Links & Things
Happy pub day to The Price She Pays: Confronting the Hidden Mental Health Crisis in Women’s Sports—from the Schoolyard to the Stadium! I’m so happy to add this book by Katie Steele and Tiffany Brown, with Erin Strout, to my growing library of books about women in sports. It’s an essential toolkit for navigating the unique challenges girls and women in sports face and for how we can create a system of sports that supports women’s needs and respects their value as whole humans. And if you’re in New York City, I’m moderating a conversation with Katie and Tiffany at the NYRR Runcenter tonight (6/18) at 6pm. Tickets here (but you can also just show up).
Speaking of bad gear for women athletes, Gloria Liu wrote about a debilitating injury that many women cyclists have suffered silently for years. But it’s really about how we continue to dismiss women’s pain and lived experiences especially in sports where suffering is part of the ethos.
- always manages to articulate so well exactly why certain things bother me, like the messaging around women’s sports that “this is for all the little girls.”
We let male athletes aspire to athletic greatness and achievement simply for the glory of it or for the joy of it. When do women get to have the ambition for themselves, to play sports simply because they want to? When do we stop asking them to “do it for her [insert photo of little girl in the stands]” and let them do it for themselves, simply because they want to be great, to push themselves to their limits, and to achieve something?
Is your camera roll filled with pictures of food and random drinks too? Then you should read this.
Really enjoyed chatting with
for her podcast.This is a little late, if Father’s Day is complicated and hard for you, I see you.
Thanks for being here. More soon.
Christine
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Thanks for the link to the women's saddle article! I've always dismissed saddle pain as just something that comes with the sport, that I need to ride more to toughen up etc. Now I'm thinking I should invest in a new saddle!