Personally, I think cheerleading’s an abomination! There was a time, it’s true, in the Christian world, especially in the catholic countries, when it was considered perfection in a woman to be characterless: the role of women was to churn out babies, keep house, and weep for their menfolk when they were lost in battle. But how this idea could persist in the 21st century anywhere outside the Muslim world, and of all places, in the United States, is a total mystery to me.
Not all women are athletically gifted, of course not, but for those who are to waste their talents standing on the sidelines chanting doggerel and waving pompoms while men alone bathe in the limelight is an affront to Nature herself: an insult to her boundless variety and bounty. Sport, as I see it, is a form of self-expression. This isn’t just true of ice skating and gymnastics. Every soccer player, every skier, every fighter has a style that is uniquely theirs. And a fight is an expression not only of the athletic prowess, but also of the intelligence, the courage and the will-power, of the men and women who subject themselves to what is surely among the harshest of tests.
As a teacher, apparently adored by little Clarissa, Cynthia has my respect; as a fighter (sorry Kiva) she’ll remain pretty much queen of the heap, until Kelli rips her down from on high and scatters her feathers in the dung: but as a cheerleader? As the French would say, boff!
