I woke up the other day to discover that I’m a sexist. Not a pig-headed bigot who enjoys suppressing women. Not even one of those boring closet sexists, politically correct at the office and politically corrupt on the golf course. So, it’s more accurate to say that I discovered sexist tendencies that I hadn’t realized I had. Still, it’s a harsh morning when one’s mirror reflects a man not quite the champion of equality he thought himself to be.
The morning of my epiphany came about two weeks before the scheduled “Million Dollar Lady” extravaganza. I was curious about women’s boxing and decided to write about the Christy Martin-Lucia Rijker fight. But, in my sleep, curiosity gave way to dread. You see, I’ve come to believe that boxing is the seedy side of sports and women’s boxing its freak sideshow. My subconscious angels were raising hell, saying I was giving in to the carnival barkers hawking brutality to women.
I should have been relieved when the fight was canceled, but those little guys wouldn’t let go. They told me I ought to write anyway because somewhere in the world women are preparing to throw haymakers at each other and men are going to make money on the deal. I just don’t believe women should get beat up.
Funny because I really don’t care if men do. In fact, some have accused me of being a fight fan, and I guess in the days of Muhammad Ali I was. That’s the sexist part.
I have always thought of myself as a tireless crusader for equal rights, equal opportunity and equal pay. And even though that’s self-serving, it sets up the point that I’d rather be a humanist than a feminist.
I’m a Danica and Annika fan. I rooted for Patrick at the great race — who didn’t? — and in this space I championed Sorenstam’s competition against men. I look forward to the day when Michelle Wie plays in the Masters. I supported the WUSA and cheer at WNBA games. I’m more interested in women’s tennis than men’s because it’s far more compelling.
More tactilely, I worked for WomenSports magazine in the days when Billie Jean King was the boss and equality was the issue. I witnessed her creation of the Women’s Sports Foundation, and to this day she remains my biggest hero.
You can see why I thought of myself as a progressive guy. But my subconscious draws the line at brutality. I think of boxing as a brutal business, particularly in these days when promoters are far more successful than the athletes who take the beatings. It’s an ugly sport where few win except Don King and Bob Arum. But it’s easier for me to accept a man fighting his way out of the barrio than a woman.
And boxing is not the limit of my hypocrisy. I really have to admit that I’m against all brutality to women. Domestic violence. Sure, I’m against it. Too easy? OK, I’m against the more subtle abuses: The glass ceiling, unequal pay, the stereotype that keeps women in the places where our fathers thought they belonged. (And the Marx Brothers sing: “Whatever it is, I’m against it.”) How about the big one: Women in combat. I’m against it. Aren’t you?
I just can’t live with the idea of women’s body parts flying around a killing field. Perhaps it takes a special insight that separates the romance of war from the reality of it. But I’m against that, too.
What am I for? Well, I’m for the sexes. The pure wonder of femininity and feminism. Equality all around, but an equality that embraces the wonderful differences and doesn’t exploit them. Boxing is base exploitation and people get hurt. It bothers me more when women get hurt. Sexist? Sure. Justified? Well, I guess that’s up to you.
John Genzale (jgenzale@nyc.rr.com) is founding editor of SportsBusiness Journal.
