Activating Change through Allyship

Abstract

Like many athletes, I started playing sports at a young age. My earliest memories take me back to wrestling mats and arenas and early-morning drives with my father as we traveled to find the best competitions and open tournaments. We spent thousands of hours (yes, thousands) together in the car preparing for matches and talking about life. Though these conversations focused mainly on wrestling technique and tournament brackets, more often than not my dad found a way to weave lessons about decency and morality into discussions about athletic achievement. As he talked about his heroes-the New York Yankee legends of the1950s who lifted American spirits in the wake of World War II-my father set up a hierarchy of sports-based integrity that is still with me: Athletes become worthy of the greatest respect not when they win at their sport but when they stand up for the dignity of others and represent something bigger than themselves. My father emphasized integrity because he knew what I was up against. As a young wrestler, I was learning to inflict pain to force submission. In such a grueling contact sport, he wanted me to become a "respectful competitor." Win, lose or draw, each match was an opportunity to learn, enjoy the camaraderie of competition, and show respect for another human being. Through my sport experiences-as a Division I wrestler at the University of Maryland and as a coach at Columbia University-I've found that respect is linked inextricably to the unity of team. Every team I have been on has been filled with loyal and generous men who would do anything for a teammate in need. They would give the proverbial grimy, sweat-soaked shirt off their backs if they felt it would help. Few non-athletes understand the intensity and primacy of the bond that develops through shared times of intense struggle and celebration-hours of practices, heavy moments in the locker room after a tough loss, and the exhilarating highs of unexpected victory. This form of respect stems from familiarity and a shared identity. At the University of Maryland, this familial bond was as strong as any blood tie. We cried together when our coach accepted a job at another school. We swelled with collective pride when our athletic director reinforced the department's motto: 500 athletes, 27 sports, one team. As a wrestler, I have been blessed to be part of my sport's familial culture and to witness how respect is at the culture's core, not only among athletes but also among parents, coaches, league officials and fans. However, I have also come to realize that respect in athletics has a comfort zone that does not easily extend beyond defined margins. Unfortunately, many have been forced to exist outside these margins. Before the passage in 1972 of Title IX, the landmark legislation that made it illegal to deny women equal access to federally funded educational programs, women were relegated to the sidelines of sports. Before 1947, when Jackie Robinson became the first black player in Major League Baseball, African Americans were denied the right to compete with white players as equals. While much has changed for these groups, the culture of sports does continue to marginalize. This is particularly true for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) athletes. I have never been on a team with an openly gay wrestler though I have likely met and befriended countless without knowing. With stereotypes about LGBT people pulsing through the athletic experience, this is no surprise. As an athlete in gyms, locker rooms and on bus rides, I can attest to the prevalence of anti-LGBT attitudes and language. My teammates frequently