23 June 2022

Title IX, Fifty Years Later

 On this date in 1972–fifty years ago—Title IX became law in the United States.

It’s commonly associated with its most visible manifestation:  women’s sports in educational institutions.  It is, however, a broad piece of legislation (Do I sound like a lawyer or politician?) stating that no educational institution that receives Federal funding—as most, even private colleges and schools do—can discriminate on the basis of sex.

The title of this blog is “Midlife Cycling.”  I am, however, old enough to have grown up with a girl much smarter than I am and possessing talents I can only wish for but whose parents did everything they could to keep her from going to college (or art school, her dream) because “she’ll get married, stop working and it will all be wasted.”

That rationale was used to impose strict quotas on—or ban outright—women in graduate schools, medical and law schools and even undergraduate programs like engineering. Those schools and programs just happened to offer access to some of the highest-paying jobs which, in the minds of decision-makers (nearly all men) “men need more” because they were going to support those women who were denied access to those programs and jobs—and the children those men and women would have.

Such attitudes were also used to discourage or bar girls and women from participating in sports. It was a kind of circular argument:  Girls’ and women’s participation in sports was pointless because once they graduated from school or aged out of whatever program they were in, there were no more opportunities for them, professionally or otherwise. That women and girls didn’t participate in sports was the rationale for not creating such opportunities! 

In addition to being circular, such an argument was hypocritical and nakedly sexist:  To my knowledge, no boy or man (including me, in my previous life) was ever discouraged from participating in sports because he had little or no chance of getting a scholarship or making a living from it.

One irony of Title IX is that sports is not mentioned anywhere in it.  Only subsequent revelations that women’s and girls’ sports budgets were as little as 1% of those for men’s and boy’s teams caused the law to be applied to sports programs.





While female participation in sports is undoubtedly much greater than it was half a century ago, it—and, perhaps more importantly, the budgets for it—are still much lower than those for males, and not nearly in proportion to student enrollment. Women make up nearly 60 percent of college and university enrollments but only 44 percent of varsity athletes.

What’s even more revealing is that budgets for women’s sports teams are not even in proportion to their level of participation.

Much of that has to do with priorities. In most colleges and universities, most of the revenue comes from football (American-style) and basketball.  While there are many women’s basketball programs, they, with few exceptions, don’t garner the attention devoted to men’s teams.

I think the reason for that is also the reason why, even sports in which women’s participation is greater, men’s abilities are prized over women’s.  Because, on average, they are taller and stronger, men can jump higher, hit harder and run faster.  Those abilities translate into dunks, tackles and sprints:  the sorts of things used to promote football, men’s basketball and other men’s sports.

If there were as much respect accorded to the qualities of female athletes—such as flexibility, resilience and endurance—there would be more respect for, and professional opportunities in, not only women’s basketball, but also in other sports like volleyball, gymnastics and, yes, cycling.

Speaking of which:  About 200 post-secondary educational institutions sponsor club-level cycling teams, which compete against other schools but are usually funded by the students themselves.  As of 2020,  21 colleges and universities have what are known as “varsity” cycling teams.  They are funded by the schools, just like (but not at the level of) football, basketball and other “major” teams.  All 21 of those schools have both men’s and women’s teams. In a few, the dollar value of the average woman’s scholarship is greater than the average men’s; in others, it’s less or equal.

So, while intercollegiate cycling might be doing a little better in gender equity than other intercollegiate sports are doing, as researchers might say, the sample size is small.  But, given what I’ve said about the differences between male and female athletes, and the fact that some overall cycling records have been held by women, I think the potential of women’s cycling, whether collegiate, Olympic or professional, has yet to be realized.

22 June 2022

Held To Different Standards

What is your name?  What is today's date?  Who is the President?

I passed the test: I answered all three questions correctly, as much as it pained me to utter Donald Trump's name in response to the third.  

So who administered that exam?  A doctor in Westchester Medical Center, after the worst crash I've suffered in half a century (!) of cycling.  My mishap, which "totaled" Arielle, my first Mercian bike, also included a face-plant.  So that doctor was testing my cognition as a first step to determining whether I'd suffered any brain damage.  

I thought about that after hearing that President Joe Biden fell off his bike while speding the weekend at his family's retreat in Delaware.  According to reports, the President when he came to a stop, his foot got caught in a toe clip, which caused him to tumble.  


President Biden, after falling off his bike.  Photo by Sarah Silbiger, for the New York Times.

He didn't appear to suffer any injuries or require medical attention.  Instead of doctors and nurses, reporters surrounded him as he picked himself up.  So, their "test" was a bit different from the one I "passed."  Before continuing his ride, he answered questions about--are you ready for this?--tariffs on Chinese goods and gun control legislation.

Hmm...If my doctor had asked those questions, I wonder how he would've assessed my condition.

21 June 2022

The Ride: A Constant In The City

Yesterday I answered my own question by taking a ride.  As I often do, I zigzagged through some neighborhoods in Queens and Brooklyn before ending up in Coney Island. As the day was warm and sunny, and the wind of the past few days had all but died down, people were out: cycling, walking with themselves, canes, strollers, dogs and their friends, lovers, spouses and children.  And although yesterday was officially a holiday, there was, on some streets, nearly as much traffic as on a normal weekday.  People who didn't have to go to work simply wanted to get out, and I couldn't blame them.

It seemed, somehow, that the bike I chose to ride influenced the ride itself.  Because the wind was nearly calm, in contrast to the previous few days, I felt like taking a spin on Tosca, my Mercian fixed-gear bike.  And, while I didn't plan my route beforehand--in fact, I thought no further ahead than the next traffic light throughout my ride--I think I stuck to a flat route in part because I couldn't shift gears.

My ride--about 70 kilometers in total--was very nice, except for one thing:






At Prospect Park, I took a detour (if you can call anything on a ride like the one I took yesterday a detour) onto some streets I know but hadn't seen in a while. Hal Ruzal, the former partner and mecahnic/wheelbuilder par excellence of Bicycle Habitat--and the one who introduced me to Mercians and a few interesting bands--moved out of the house in the photo two and a half years ago.  I've joked that he "got out of Dodge": the pandemic struck just a couple of months after he left.  He's now living in another part of the country that, while affected by COVID (where wasn't?), didn't suffer from lockdowns or other ravages were we experienced here in New York.




When I texted that photo, and a couple of others, to Hal, he seemed more saddened by the generic townhouse-like building constructed across the street from his old house, and by the fact that the house next door is vacant and up for sale.  "I hope the lady who owned it didn't die," he said.

My message was more evidence, to him, that the city of our youth no longer exists.  I would agree, and sometimes I mourn the loss of it, but there is still much I enjoy--like the bike ride I took yesterday.