Mixed-Gender Sports in South India

The gender dynamics of mixed-gender sports in South India

I think it was a Tuesday evening around 5 p.m. when I realized the complexity of India’s gender dynamics and that I’d likely never understand them, no matter how long I lived here. Maybe it was to be expected since this was my first hurrah in the country. But still, I figured after months of volunteering every day at an after-school program and immersing myself in the local culture of the southern coastal city of Chennai I would have understood better.

Rahul and I walked on the sand path toward our neck of the beach where we coached sports every afternoon. From a distance, we saw a few of the teenagers already there, running madly around the beach, throwing a frisbee as far and high as they could and chasing it in the windy conditions as it came back down the same way. Our program engaged with teens living in a low-income community cum fishing village right on the beach. Rahul was from the same community as the teens, but he was older, in college and this was his part-time job.

We’d decided on ultimate frisbee as our sport of choice because it was mixed-gender, non-contact, and heavily relied on spirit — a perfect trifecta to meet our goals of teaching life skills through sports, especially gender equality. I loved how the boys never had an immediate advantage over the girls in ultimate frisbee since neither gender had ever played the sport before.

As we got closer, I could see it was Divya, Vikram and Arun — three of our top players. I put my hand up to wave to them while passing by an older man sitting on the knee-level concrete barrier separating the street from the beach. He looked like he was in his early fifties, a local guy wearing a traditional blue and black checked wraparound cloth lungi and linen button down, perfect for Chennai’s heat and humidity. He was staring intently at our three teens and muttered something under his breath. I asked Rahul what he was saying. Rahul translated to me casually, “He’s saying Divya’s a whore.”

I stared at him incredulously, while trying not to raise my voice, “What do you mean he called her a whore?”

“Her and the other girls get called whores for playing on the beach. It’s just like that ’cause they aren’t supposed to be on the beach with boys. They are considered ‘bad’ girls.”

I was silent the rest of the walk. I knew many people thought girls playing with boys was inappropriate, but inappropriate was a long way off from whorish. It undid every understanding I had at home in the U.S. where playing sports was encouraged and girls who played with boys were considered solid athletes. But this was Chennai, a traditional city in a country where gender inequality and gender-based violence including female infanticide and marital rape is common, where girls and boys in government schools sit separately in classrooms, play separately in gym class, and eat separately at lunchtime.

Sometimes I wonder why this moment stayed with me, or resonated more than say, the Delhi rape case of 2012. Maybe it was because I could directly see the disgust on the man’s face. Maybe it was because he was saying it about a 13-year-old I knew, a barely 5-foot-tall wisp of a girl who probably didn’t even know what sex was. Maybe it was because the boys she was playing with were similarly young-looking and naïve.

Divya is typical of most of the girls I know who play ultimate frisbee and come from traditional backgrounds. They have to fight, tooth and nail, to get their families to allow them to play. And it isn’t just one fight, but an on-going, seemingly endless battle. There are a million reasons parents give for their daughters not to play a mixed-gender sport, let alone any sport at all. Some of the top reasons I’ve heard include: It’s a waste of time, you’ll ruin your reputation, we don’t trust the boys, we don’t want you wearing shorts, and we don’t want you out so late. This is before the girls have stepped on the field to learn a sport which comes with its own considerable hurdles.

Consider this for a second. If, as a youngster, you had to fight your family to allow you to participate in your favorite activity, would you have done it? I’m not sure I had the gumption at such a young age to rebel against my family’s wishes or to participate in an activity which made my neighbors think I was whorish. Honestly, I’d probably be a homebody, having stayed inside like a “good” girl. And this is coming from someone who absolutely adores playing, coaching and watching sports.

Divya doesn’t realize she’s a trailblazer. But she is. I can already see how she’s preparing the way for her younger sister who also likes to play. Plus, she’s blazing trails for other girls in her community as she gets recognition and opportunities from the sport. They will most likely have a few less battles to fight because Divya’s already won them.

*Names have been changed for privacy.