Jock Privilege

I had some thoughts about what happens when athletes get a free pass earlier this week. These thoughts were stemmed from a horrific incident that occurred in Steubenville, OH, and as I explored what was going around locally, I found that jock privilege is something that happens regularly. Such privilege can be as little as looking the other way when an assignment is turned in late, to getting away with rape. Apparently, there are some serious benefits to lacing up some cleats and ramming your skull into other people.

I thought about a situation in junior high. I remember the teacher well-- he was the social studies teacher, and also the football coach. My class had several of the football players in it, and I noticed very quickly that these students were rarely prepared for class and were blatantly favored in spite of it. As the token brown-noser goodie two shoes 4.0 student, I was infuriated that my role as Golden Child was threatened because I wasn't a football player. After class one day, I approached the teacher's desk and said, "You favor the football players. They get special treatment, and it isn't fair." How I managed to do this without sobbing the sentence out is beyond me, because I rarely do well when confronting authority figures-- perhaps the favoritism had been so blatant that I'd already lost respect for him.

If I hadn't at that point, though, the deal was sealed when his response was to grab the quarterback who was walking by at that point and asking, "Do you think I favor the football players?"

"No, sir."

"All right then. I don't think we have a problem then."

(I often reflect on incidents like this and so wish that I could go back in time and stand next to my eighth grade self and put people like this in their place. I think if I ever stumble upon a genie's lamp, that would be one of my wishes)

So I thought it was interesting when I pulled up various news sites and found this breaking story about Manti Te'o, a football player for Notre Dame who allegedly was the victim of some internet hoax where a girl was made up and he fell madly in love with her over the internet, only to have fake girlfriend die of cancer the day before his biggest game, as well as the same day his grandma died. There are so many holes in the story, including incidents where he says he went to visit her and his family corroborates, but then he claims he was just too embarrassed to tell his family that when he went to meet her, she never showed up (really? Big football star would keep dating a girl he'd never met who stood him up over and over again?). I'm not buying a thing he's putting down, and I so love that he's also publicly LDS (/sarcasm-- freakin' a, people, stop telling the world you're a Mormon if you're going to be a butthead-- we've already got a lot to work against as it is!). It was an interesting story, one that I definitely read the entire lengthy article for, and just mildly noted that Notre Dame came out and identified Manti as the victim, and stood by him with their abundant resources of PI's who would figure out what happened to this poor, heartbroken football player.

I didn't think much of the latter until I later came across and article about a young lady from Notre Dame named Lizzy Seeberg. The article I linked to is pretty great at covering why this whole thing is an awful mess. Turns out Manti's dead girlfriend was a fake? Let's call in the troops! Use every available resource to get to the bottom of this thing. Leave no stone unturned. However, Lizzy Seeberg reports that she was sexually assaulted by another student. Over a week passes before the reported offender is even questioned, and in that time, Lizzy Seeberg, a freshman, commits suicide. Upon her death, her written statement about the incident is no longer admissable in court, because her demise means it is "hearsay". The reported offender was approached after her suicide, found to be not responsible for any wrongdoing, and was allowed to continue with his routine without a hiccup. Oh, it might help to mention-- that routine included playing for the Notre Dame football team, as he continues to do so to this day.

So what does Manti have that Lizzy didn't, that he immediately got the support because someone lied to him about a girlfriend (supposedly-- that's assuming he actually didn't know anything about it, which at this point seems ridiculous)-- and that support comes in the form of private investigators, but Lizzy is sexually assaulted and her report doesn't even get a second look until more than a week after the report, after she commits suicide?

You're right. In the grand scheme of things, I would much rather be sexually assaulted than be duped on Twitter about some potential love interest. That's how everyone feels, right? No?

No. No one. Ever. Because being lied to on the internet is not even in the same playing field as sexual assault. But if the person committing the assault wears a jersey on a regular basis, the rules don't apply. And unfortunately for Lizzy, she was female, and didn't play for a football team. Maybe if she were a football player, and the attacker were some other faceless, seemingly unimportant (in the university's eyes) person, she would have gotten the immediate support that Manti is receiving, and she would have had a better chance of being in a healthier, safer emotional place where suicide was less likely to seem like an option.

This is a time where we don't need a genie. This is happening now. This is an opportunity now to speak up for the people who don't have a voice-- for the Lizzies, and the countless others who have their report swept under the rug because athletes can't rape-- all women are clamoring for the opportunity to have sex with an athlete, which always implies consent, right? Wrong. All wrong. Women are not trophies. Women are not objects. Women are people with thoughts, ideas, emotions, and the right to say no and have it respected, regardless of who the person is or if he has a spot on the team roster.

So why do we support a culture that enables rape? Why do we paint our faces, spend hard earned money on season tickets, and allow ourselves to forget what it currently means to be an athlete?

This article says it best:

What's really surprising me are those who believe as I do that two players on the team have committed serious criminal acts – sexual assault in one case, and rape in another - but assumed that I'd support the team anyway, just as they are.

"Aren't you just a little bit excited?" one asked the other day. There are plenty of good guys on the team, too, I'm repeatedly told. And oh, that Manti Te'o is inspiring. I don't doubt it. But as a thought exercise, how many predators would have to be on the team before you'd no longer feel like cheering?

How many?