Dodgeball

Shelly Nixon (725267)SOFD 591

Dr. Rebecca MartusewiczFinal Paper

I remember very little of my elementary school years. The story that my mother

likes to tell over and over is the story of how I had terrible stomach aches every

morning before school up until the time I was in the third grade. Stomach aches and

terrifying, half-remembered nightmares sent me running down the hall to my parents’

room nearly every night during the same time period. I must have been a very anxious

child; in one of my scarce memories, I am sitting at my first grade desk, terrified to get

up to walked to the front of the room and throw away the empty package from my

cheese and cracker snack even though the teacher has just announced that snack time

is over and we should clean up. I must have also been a very sensitive child because I

seemed to cry a lot. In fact, one of the most vivid memories I have of elementary school

involves crying during the school day.

When I was in the third grade, my class went to the gym once a week to play

games. Sometimes a special speaker would visit and play games with us, bringing with

him a gigantic moonball or a huge, multicolored parachute. I especially loved the

parachute. We all got to sit on the floor in a big circle with it draped over our legs while

someone crawled underneath it; sometimes we got to run back and forth under it as

people holding on to the sides tried to heave it into the air. Most of the time, however,

we just played regular games like duck-duck-goose or dodgeball. I hated dodgeball.

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It was never just our class that played dodgeball. Instead, we almost always

played the other third grade class. We would use one to two red rubber balls, both

about the size of a basketball. Whenever a ball was thrown hard and hit you, it stung.

Boys were always the ones who threw too hard; a game never went by without the

teachers yelling out that we must aim below the waist and not throw so hard. It always

seemed to be the boys who controlled the balls as well. They would run to get them; if

you could catch a ball you were not out, the person who threw it was. Often it was two

boys who were left vying for the winning title, one on either side of the gym with a line

in the middle marking the boundary . Each boy would hurtle the ball with all his might,

and the other would either strain to catch it or skillfully and quickly dodge each throw.

Whatever the strategy, they each seemed to play fiercely; after the game ended they

both would be red-faced and gasping for air.

Girls playing dodgeball was a different story. Most hated the game, me

included. Many hated it so much that they would ask to sit out. If the teacher refused

and forced them to participate, they would try to jump in front of one of the less

aggressively thrown balls in order to get out. The girls who got out would sit along the

sides of the gym, talking or playing clapping hand games. This was in direct contrast

to the boys who could barely manage to stay against the wall, straining with

impatience for the game to be over and to see who was the winner. Few girls actually

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attempted to throw the ball. Those who did were met with yells and taunts about their

lack of skill and forcefulness when throwing the ball. “God! Girls can’t throw!” Or, “Girls

are so weak they shouldn’t be allowed to play at all!” Or, “Give the ball to a boy! At

least they know what to do with it!” Ironically, boys who could not throw very well were

also met with taunts. Usually the taunts took the form of name calling, most often

“girl” or “you throw like a girl.” Most of the girls tried to stay against the back wall,

letting the boys who were playing have more room. Several times the teacher in charge

of the game would begin by telling the girls to move to the back so that the boys could

play.

Every once in a while, I was one of the girls who tried to get the ball. I never

cried when I got hit. What really made me mad was how mean some of the boys could

be. One day one of the girls I knew got hit in the face with a well-aimed, aggressively

thrown ball. She cried a little and was sent to the office; the boys were only reminded

not to throw so hard and to aim below the waist. For some reason I started to cry. I

was not hurt, and I did not know her particularly well. I just remember feeling so angry

— at the unfairness of the situation, or maybe at the meanness of the boy who threw

the ball. I am not sure what I found so upsetting, but I have never forgotten that game

of dodgeball.

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When I wrote this story I had just recently watched the 2000

Super Bowl with a friend. As usual, I was disgusted by the

absolute excess that went into the production of such an event

Not only are the players paid astronomical salaries, but the

half-time show proved to be an extremely gaudy extravaganza which

arguably rivaled the gala associated with the opening ceremonies

of the Olympics. What particularly caught my notice were two

things: a comment made by an announcer and a commercial for the

NFL which was run during half-time. The commercial itself was

elaborately produced and was made up of several juxtaposed

scenes. One scene showed a father and what appeared to be two

boys playing football in the yard. This alone was not strange.

What was strange was that before the commercial cut to the next

scene, the camera flashed to a young girl peering out of a large

window, watching the man and the boys play. The message seemed

clear: boys play and girls watch.

The comment was even more blatantly sexist. After Kurt

Warner received the Super Bowl MVP award and subsequently gave

his speech, one of the announcers proclaimed, “This is exactly

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what every kid in America dreams about — being the quarterback

on the winning Super Bowl team and winning the MVP trophy.”

Clearly in both of these instances, girls are devalued and

ignored. If winning the Super Bowl is every kid’s dream and only

boys are allowed to play football, then girls must not be real

children and thus not really people. In addition, they are only

meant to watch boys, who are the real people, participate in

sports. This led me to think of my experiences with athletics;

most of which had been uncomfortable at best. By far the

dodgeball incident kept coming up as one of the earliest and most

painful experiences in sports. Thinking about it, writing about

it, and rereading it left me with questions. Why were the boys

so mean? Why was being called a girl such an insult? Finally,

what implications did this have in women’s everyday lives?

In their book Failing at Fairness: How Our Schools Cheat

Girls, Myra and David Sadker describe what they call “Girl

Ghettos.” According to them, boys and girls in school are

segregated into two totally different worlds. Most notably on

the playground, boys dominate space. In fact, the area claimed

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by the boys may be as much as ten times bigger than the one to

which the girls are relegated (Sadker and Sadker 1994: 60). Much

like my gym class, girls are pushed to the sides (or in the gym

to the back) to watch. Teachers themselves rarely question this

segregation; they do not divide either space or equipment evenly.

Indeed this was the case when my teacher decided it would be best

to tell the girls to move to the back before even beginning the

game.

Recess and gym are not the only places where this

segregation takes place. It occurs in the lunchroom and in the

classroom as well. In the classroom, the domination of physical

space is translated into the domination of linguistic space.

Teachers call more frequently on boys in the classroom (48).

They also give boys more time to answer questions. Most

importantly, boys receive more instructional feedback. They are

told they are smart and given suggestions and constructive

criticism for improvement as well as much encouragement (54).

Girls, on the other hand, most frequently receive a response

based on their appearance or a perfunctory “okay” if they receive

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a response at all (55). Not surprisingly, girls are less sure of

themselves intellectually and tend to try to talk less in the

classroom.

When teachers treat girls in such a way, they are

reproducing and participating in a pedagogy of shame. Shame is

defined as “a pervasive sense of personal inadequacy” (Bartky

1996: 226). In order to feel shame, there must be some “Other”

who functions as the audience and whose judgement finds one

lacking. This Other does not necessarily need to be an external

one; an internalized audience/critic works just as well.

Accordingly, in a patriarchal world, women experience shame

differently than men and are much more shame-prone than men,

since they are always aberrant in a world in which men are the

norm and are valued as such. Thus in every institution and

social interaction lurks the ideology that women are somehow less

than or inferior to men. “The inculcation of shame and guilt in

women is a pervasive feature of social life” (225).

Not surprisingly schools function as an important mechanism

of transmitting this pedagogy of shame. Throughout their

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education, women are socialized to accept the ideology that they

are somehow inadequate. Concrete examples of such practices

include the tendency of teachers to interrupt women when they

speak or to ignore them completely, and as explored earlier,

women receive less time to speak than do men. When they do talk

they are often subjected to demeaning comments, many with sexual

overtones. Since common sense holds that only students who work

hard and are intelligent do well in the classroom and since this

shaming behavior is so subtle, women are left with a sense of

inadequacy even though they lack any evidence of failure. In

other words, women have a diminished sense of self and of

confidence but cannot really point to a reason why (234-236).

Yet it is not only teachers who transmit this ideology, the boys

in my story did as well. They enforced the unspoken rule that a

girl’s place is in the back or against the wall, definitely not

participating in the game. The game itself is male domain and

much too important and serious for girls to be involved. It a

girl was brave enough to try to participate, she was ridiculed

back into her place. After a while, it was not necessary for a

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boy to do the ridiculing, the girls internalized it themselves

and stopped trying.

The examples most often given for women’s experience of

shame include women’s poorer self-concepts, lower self-esteem,

lesser assertiveness, and lesser overall confidence than their

male peers; women have internalized these messages of inferiority

(229). A frequently discussed indicator of this internalization

is women’s tendency to engage in self-shaming behavior. The best

example of this is what is termed “women’s language.” During

group discussions, both in and out of the classroom, women

precede their statements and questions with false starts and

hesitations. These same comments and questions often begin with

self-deprecating expressions, which demonstrate how truly

ingrained self-shaming and a sense of personal inadequacy

characterizes women’s everyday behavior (230). In effect, shame

keeps women silenced; after all, they have been systematically

silenced in the classroom from the start. It also keeps them

from demanding equal access to school facilities such as athletic

equipment. As a result of the pedagogy of shame, women from the

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start receive the message, as I did, that they are inferior at

sports and inherently unathletic. Although being athletic is

admirable, only boys can be described as such; girls are merely a

form of pollution in the pure and holy world of sports.

Boys also internalize this message that women are somehow

inferior to them. A prime example of this internalized misogyny

occurred in my story when the boys used the word “girl” as an

insult. Obviously, to be a girl becomes synonymous with

weakness, lack of skill, and thus inferiority; the worst insult a

young boy could receive is that of being labeled “a girl.” This

misogyny is even more clearly acted out by the cruel violence of

throwing a ball directly into a girl’s face. Looking deeper than

the pedagogy of shame, it becomes clear that another aspect of

what is happening in my story is the construction of a dominant

form of masculinity. According to traditional Western thought,

the world is set up in binary, opposing categories. Examples of

this include passive/active, emotion/reason, nature/culture, and

female/male. Not only are these categories opposing, but they

are also taken to mean inferior/superior with the inferior

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characteristics being associated with females. Men become the

norm, and women become the “Other” which men reject in order to

form their own identity (Gutterman 1994: 220-221).

Being a man in our current society is more often than not

associated with possessing and wielding some sort of power.

Power in this context is seen as a means to control others as

well as material resources; power is domination over someone or

something else. “You have power if you can take advantage of

differences between people. I feel I can have power only if I

have access to more resources than you do” (Kaufmann 1994: 145).

Thus the young boys in my story actually thought that they were

entitled to control the game and the balls, and consequently, the

girls. After all, being a young boy and later a man means that

you must dominate, and in order to dominate you must be

competitive and ruthless. Men are required to always control

themselves as well. Empathy, compassion, sadness, not to mention

emotion in general must be rejected and rigidly suppressed (148).

Forcing all traces of these characteristics into a minuscule,

tightly-sealed, internal place, in effect, constructs an

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emotional barrier around men which keeps them isolated. “Men

learn to wear a suit of armor ... [it] simultaneously protects

men and keeps us locked in a prison of our own creation” (150).

The boys in my story could not show pain when they were hit

extremely hard with balls, even though it most certainly must

have hurt them just as much as it hurt the young girl. To cry

and show pain would not be manly. They also could not soften

their throws; that would be weak. Nor could they apologize to or

show any sympathy to the girl, that would be far too feminine.

Besides, by deliberately hurting the girl, the boy who threw the

ball was asserting his maleness. If to be a man is to be tough,

unemotional, and physically and mentally dominant, and girls are

supposed to represent the exact opposite of those qualities, then

by hurting her, he reaffirmed his rejection and hatred of the

feminine.

This type of masculinity calls for the rejection of any

other type of masculinity as well; it is hierarchical as well as

misogynistic. “Patriarchy exists as a system mot simply of men’s

power over women but also of hierarchies of power among different

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groups of men and between different masculinities” (145).

Therefore any sign of nonconformity, or “weakness,” among males

is strictly confined by other males. Masculinity is not only

policed within oneself by oneself, but it is also enforced in

others by members of the same gender. Therein lies the reason

that smaller or less aggressive boys were taunted and harassed

mercilessly by the more aggressive boys. Their masculinity was

suspect.

Not surprisingly this type of masculinity comes with a price

attached. First and foremost is the suppression of needs, both

emotional and physical. However, danger also lies in these

unattainable ideals; though men do indeed benefit from

patriarchy, they also are wounded by it. Any type of emotion or

experience inconsistent with these ideals leads to fear which in

turn must be suppressed. It is often expressed in other ways,

both as homophobia and violence against women. “The more we are

the prisoners of the fear, the more we need to exercise the power

we grant ourselves as men” (149). Again, the brutality of the

rough throws of the balls reassert how truly masculine the boys

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in the dodgeball game were. What better way to confirm one is a

man or will grow up to be one than to both hurt girls and to

taunt and hurt other boys?

Looking beyond the construction of masculinity in this game

of dodgeball brings into question the process by which gender

roles are being taught and enforced by the schools. Feminist

reproduction theory looks at the role of schools as transmitters

and maintainers of ideology, the pedagogy of shame included.

According to this theory, schools function to “reproduce existing

gender hierarchies” (Weiler 1988: 39). Through curriculum and

classroom practices (dodgeball included), they socialize women to

accept their roles as an exploitable labor force both inside and

outside of the home. From a young age, girls learn that caring

and nurturing are inherently “feminine” values, which channels

them into certain jobs and not others (36). Boys on the other

hand learn to be assertive (often to the point of aggression) and

competitive. Thus they are more likely to function well in

highly prestigious, highly stressful jobs. If one is able to not

only survive but also dominate a game of dodgeball, one leaves

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with a fairly high threshold to pain, emotional and intellectual

stress, and performance anxiety. The pedagogy of shame plays

into this social reproduction. Since women are shamed both in

the classroom and in the gym, they leave with a sense of

inferiority. Thus they are less likely to do well in those same

male dominated, highly competitive, highly paid careers which

require an enormous amount of confidence. Such examples may

include the fields of politics, technology, and business, all of

which are predominantly male.

This current construction of gender roles through mechanisms

such as the pedagogy of shame functions to keep women

subordinate. Women are less likely to feel confidence in their

abilities and thus are more likely to take lower paying jobs,

providing a large pool of exploitable labor. This shame, or

sense of inadequacy, may also function to keep them more docile,

thus more easily controllable as well as economically dependent

upon men. In addition, the pedagogy of shame keeps women silent

— silent about the double burden of work outside the home and

silent about domestic and sexual abuse. Women are less likely to

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leave, are shamed into staying, and end up even more economically

dependent upon men. Men, on the other hand, learn how truly

powerful and important they are. They must indeed be superior

to women and deserve through natural right to demand male

privilege. Not to mention, when girls miss out on athletic

opportunities, they are less comfortable with their bodies and

may shy away from sports and physical activity altogether. Thus

it comes as no surprise that unathletic women may also be less

likely and able to defend themselves against aggressive attacks

by men. It may also serve to keep them in abusive relationships

longer. Material circumstances and the battered women’s syndrom

aside, if male violence and aggression is seen as normal it may

be more difficult to understand that something is wrong in a

battering relationship. The same may also be true of rape and

sexual harassment.

Sadly girls who miss out on sports also miss out on other

valuable opportunities. Sports have long been recognized as a

means to build leadership, self-confidence, stamina, courage,

competitiveness, and loyalty. In addition, athletics also help

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teach children how to work as a team, something which is stressed

to a high degree in the corporate world today. Missing out on

physical activities and team sports cuts girls out of the

competition for leadership positions in the future as discussed

above, not to mention the lucrative and highly prestigious world

of professional and collegiate athletics. Not surprisingly, a

study conducted in 1992 uncovered the disparity in one typical

high school between average funding for high school girls’ and

boys’ sports per year — $1.6 million for boys versus a measly

$900,000 for girls (Sadker and Sadker 1994: 126). Given this

information it is difficult to imagine any explanation other than

social reproduction is at work. In fact, with the exception of

the state champion girls track team, I can think of no other

girls’ sport which was highly valued or any other gym class

throughout my primary and secondary education in which girls

received equal space and instruction. My school after all was

sued in my senior year (1994) under Title IX because they refused

to allow a girls’ soccer team.

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Yet this does not adequately explain the phenomenon of the

girls who either deliberately tried to get out nor the girls who

time and again tried for the ball. Indeed, one of the main

critiques of feminist reproduction theory is that it does not

take into account human agency and resistance. Even though girls

in schools are inundated with patriarchal, ideological messages,

they are capable of redefining and reacting to these messages on

their own. “Women as well as men can resist domination and

oppression and they as well as men negotiate social forces and

possibilities in an attempt to meet their own needs” (Weiler

1988: 40). Indeed, women are caught in and completely surrounded

by an oppressive system in which they exist. Yet, they are able

to negotiate this system by using whatever means are available to

them. Unfortunately, these forms of resistance may only knit

them more tightly into an oppressive system rather than improving

their lot (45). By getting out, girls still lost out on physical

activity and sport, but they were indeed resisting. No more

clear example of resistance exists than their complete lack of

interest in the game. Rather than strain against the constraints

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of the wall, as the boys who were out did, to see the outcome of

the game, they removed themselves entirely. They seemed to be

saying, “not only is your game bunk as demonstrated by our

refusal to play, but we also have more important things to do

like playing with each other.”

Dodgeball was a very painful experience, yet it was also

much more. Within this one game which took place years ago were

the kernels of the reproduction of patriarchy. The behavior of

the boys demonstrates a clear articulation of what it is to be a

man in a male privileged, male dominated, misogynistic society;

they were required to display their physical prowess and

aggression as well as their hatred of the feminine. The

participation of teachers in this practice both by their silent

and verbal approval functioned as a small part of how schools

participate in this social reproduction. The girls themselves

tried to resist these norms and make their own meanings, yet they

were left with few options, even though they did use the tools

available to them. The effects of this game are still with me

today. Every time I wish to participate in some game with

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friends, I feel the uneasiness and betrayal of my body which

seems so unused to physical movement, despite the years in track,

cross country, gymnastics, yoga, and weightlifting. My anxiety

also provides an excuse to steer me away from working out in a

public place or looking into other sports opportunities like

soccer, ice skating, or martial arts, even though I may daydream

about participating in them. I cannot help but to think that

dodgeball is so much more than a game; rather it is a poignant

microcosm of a society in desperate need of change.

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Bibliography

Bartky, Sandra Lee. 1996. The Pedagogy of Shame. In Feminisms

and Pedagogies of Everyday Life, ed. Carmen Luke, 225-241. Albany:

State University of New York Press.

Gutterman, David S. 1994. Postmodernism and the Interrogation

of Masculinity. In Theorizing Masculinities, eds. Harry Brod and

Michael Kaufman, 219-238. London: Sage Publications.

Kaufman, Michael. 1994. Men, Feminism, and Men’s Contradictory

Experiences of Power. In Theorizing Masculinities, eds. Harry

Brod and Michael Kaufman, 142-163. London: Sage

Publications.

Sadker, Myra and David Sadker. 1994. Failing at Fairness: How Our

Schools Cheat Girls. New York: Simon & Schuster.

Weiler, Kathleen. 1988. Feminist Analyses of Gender and

Schooling. In her Women

Teaching for Change, 27-56. S. Hadley, Mass.: Bergin & Garvey.

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