We all know that our society’s approach to strength and fitness sucks. It’s all about being thin and pretty, sex appeal, tight butts, cut abs, Instagram show offs, and a profound misunderstanding of the word “inspire.”

Nowhere is that conversation more screwed up than with teen girls. Every move they make is judged for how it affects everyone but them—and cheerleaders have it even harder. The sport is weighed down with gender-role baggage and even more leering hyper-sexualisation than every girl already lives with.

I’ve recently taken on a volunteer gig as a movement coach with a local high school cheerleading program. (Full-disclosure: my niece is on the squad.) Yeah, I want these kids to stay injury-free and have the best athletic experience they can—but I also have an auxiliary agenda.

Of course, I’m there to help them with the nuts and bolts of stretching and strength straining, stunts and falls. But they need more than that. They need someone to watch them and appreciate their work. Not their bodies, not even their strength: their work. They need someone to ask them how a move feels before telling them how it looks.

The first day I attended practice, the coach introduced me as a sports specialist. She told them I was there to observe and, hopefully, improve the way they train. I followed up by saying that if anyone was currently dealing with any recent or chronic injuries, they should let me know.

A girl sitting on the mat near me raised her hand and, before being called on, asked, “Can you do anything about double chins?”

The worst part? No one laughed. It wasn’t a joke. This 16-year-old athlete, who would only moments later throw another human being into the air and catch her 40 times in a single practice, didn’t ask me how she could prevent ankle sprains. She wasn’t concerned about the wrist and elbow pain that plagues nearly the entire team.

No, she was concerned about how the skin under her chin wrinkled when she looked down, because people might think she’s fat.

We, as a culture, have failed that girl.

I wish I could say I had some witty and poignant rejoinder that made her and her teammates pause to reflect on their self-image in a new way.

Yet, I didn’t do that. I stood there just long enough to start getting awkward before trying to salvage the moment by making a half-formed joke about how it’s weird for a kid her age to even be thinking like that and no, by the way, that’s not what I do.

But it’s not weird, is it? Painfully, depressingly not-weird.

So tell me: what would you have said?

 

2 Responses to “My Day as a Cheerleader”

  • Jackie

    Hi Kevin, I just discovered your website today and I’m blown away by the quality of your advice and understanding. I’m excited to try out the sore wrist-pushup fix tonight for the problem that’s been plaguing me for almost 15 years. I was motivated to comment on this post because I saw situations like this myself many times and I don’t think there’s really an answer per se, just a process. I think it’s actually more important to be serious because for the teenagers, 1) all the (potentially overwhelming) new information about their bodies and body image is very serious to them and 2)they’re learning to draw their own conclusions and be responsible for their choices instead of being told what to think/do. One of the best ways to guide them through the process of drawing distinctions between what should and shouldn’t be important to them is by listening to their concerns with respect, so they never feel that they have to hide what they’re thinking about. Best of luck, based on what I’ve read on your site those young ladies are very fortunate to work with you and I wish you all a great experience.

    Reply
    • Kevin Moore

      Thanks very much for your comments, Jackie. Let me know how the wrist exercises work for you!

      Reply

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