Ever since the early 1800s women playing rugby has been seen as an unnatural notion, but as the sport continues to grow in popularity, when will women have to stop defending their reasoning for playing?
By Madison McCallum
Sitting behind my desk in my freshman homeroom, potential fun facts to share ran through my mind. When the teacher asked me to share mine with the class, my head went blank and I uttered the words I swore to keep to myself, “I play women’s rugby.” After the words stumbled out, the class fell silent. I thought I was in the clear. Until a tall, scrawny, blonde-haired boy dressed head to toe in Vineyard Vines mumbled under his breath, “Does your girlfriend help you practice your tackling, butch?” My heart sank, I knew I was yet again going to be known as the rugby dyke.
In middle school, I had been known as the pretty little ballerina turned rugby dyke, coined by my classmates after an Instagram post I made in 2014. The post was not anything out of the ordinary. I had left a technical rehearsal for an upcoming pointe performance to go to rugby practice in preparation for an important upcoming match. Standing in an oversized hand-me-down sweatshirt from my father's 20s, with, “Rats Rugby,” plastered across it, I held a rugby ball in one hand, and my tutu in another. Hair slicked back with winged eyeliner and harsh contour, my mother and I thought the visual representation of my contradicting activities would be unique. But in response, there were jokes about me being gay and coming out.
To some extent, the comments were to be expected. But not my reaction. I wondered why I let it get me down the way I did. An insecure teenager, I found myself constantly questioning myself, anxious and hyper fixated on my appearance and the way others viewed me. The last thing I wanting to worry about was the pretentious soccer boy I liked thinking I was gay. I found myself dressing more and more feminine. I wore a dress, skirt or brightly colored pants everyday for the remainder of the school year to prove my girliness to my classmates
To better understand why there is such a stigma around females playing, I looked at the history of women in rugby, statistics of female engagement, along with personal testimonies of women who have encountered the stereotypes that come along with being a woman in a male-dominated sport. Maybe that could teach me about why I had such mixed feelings.
Originating in the early 1800s in England, rugby has been a male-dominated sport, with female players dating back to 1887. Limited access to clubs for women only strengthened the masculine overtones of people's views of the sport. The concept of women playing traditionally male-dominated sports stood as a demonstration of females attempting to reclaim their femininity, not only in rugby but also in the football world, according to sports performance researcher, Helene Joncheray, in her published work Women in Rugby.
De Montfort University in Leicester, England published Hidden history of women's rugby to be revealed for first time by DMU sharing how women in rugby has always been seen as an unnatural notion. The first woman to play was Emily Valentine in 1887, who played for her brother's team at Porta Royal School in Enniskillen, Northern Ireland. She wanted to play rugby but had nowhere to do so. Coincidentally, her father was the headmaster of the University, and both of her brothers played for the team, one of which was the captain. She knew that she wouldn’t be turned away because of her connections, yet despite her bold gesture, women's teams in the area did not begin to form until the 1960s.
Due to the uncanny concept of women playing rugby, women in France created an almost identical game, known as Barrette, which was played on pitches until the late 1970s. Looking at this, it was clear to me that the women who started this game did it with the intent of avoiding ridicule, competing in a seemingly identical game, but renaming it. It astounded me that these women would go through such lengths just to play the sport they wished to participate in. It is disturbing that they felt forced to go to such lengths to play because of how taboo it was at the time.
In the United States, the first women's club was established in 1969 in Portland, Oregon, gaining enough traction amongst the states by 1978, to hold the first National Championship, in Chicago, Illinois. By 1980, women's rugby had grown to 15 teams throughout the country, often mixing college students with locals from nearby communities. The sport prides itself on its players wearing the same attire, shorts and, at the time, thick woven rugby shirts with collars. In order to compete, a team must be made up of at least 15 players, meaning that around 225 women joined in a matter of 11 years in the states, showing womens hesitancy to try something new. Although it was completely unknown and a foreign sport at the time, the sport was very slow to rise in popularity.
Sports researchers Sarah Fields and Dawn Comstock shared in their journal Why Americans Play Rugby, that the allure of learning to play a new sport has been prominent among female athletes, with a 31% increase in female youth clubs in the United States from 2003 to 2004, growing from 96 to 126 clubs. This draw has been described by multiple different theories, all of which have one main similarity: going against the societal norm. Sociologist Broad found in 2001 through in-depth surveys completed by 100 female rugby players, that, “women’s participation in rugby can be understood as a site of resistance to the notion of the female apologetic; instead, as read through the lens of queer theory and politics of resistance, the female rugby players were decidedly unapologetic in their enthusiasm for their sport.” These individuals showed outward pride in their sport, openly ignoring others' opinions that playing would undermine their overall attractiveness and femininity. Sports studies scholar, Chase, argued that the players she studied were drawn to the game solely to go against the feminine body's societal norms. The physicality, social outlet, as well as rewards of being fit were found to be the primary drives of women in 2002, according to literary critic Lawler.
What interests me about these theories is that they show that the concept of breaking the barriers that women feel and proving to themselves that they are capable of competing is more prominent than having to face the countless stereotypes and ridicule they endure. But no matter how many statistics and pieces of research I throw out, nothing holds more weight than the real-life experiences of fellow athletes. I decided to reach out to my past and current teammates to get a better idea of their reasoning for getting into the sport along with stereotypes that they've encountered along the way, and if they shared this sense of redefining and reclaiming their femininity through playing. What I found was that no matter what you embody, there is always another stereotype that you will be defined by.
Although one of my teammates had a similar start to me, the rest shared similar reasoning, with the most common reasons for beginning to play rugby as: the physicality, social outlet, and the uniqueness of the sport as well as its players. Having begun their experience with preconceived notions shared by friends and families such as: rugby only is for big girls, its not an acceptable sport for a feminine girl to play, its solely for girls who are gay or secretly gay, results in endless injuries, and is only for those with intense anger issues.
One of my past teammates, Lucinda Baum, has suffered from migraines her entire life. She grew up playing travel soccer, deciding to step out of her comfort zone and join the local rugby club, the Richmond Strikers, after not making a team following receiving knee surgery. For as long as she can remember, she has gone to class with a sharp pain in the back of her head at least once every two weeks. Communicating with her teachers the pain she felt with her chronic migraines, she found herself sinking into her seat blocking the fluorescent lights from her eyes with a rustic gray hat with a patch across the top that said “Dog Mom” frequently.
One day, when arriving at school with a migraine, she proudly wore her newly purchased spiritwear gear that had “Richmond Strikers Rugby” plastered across it. When she approached her teacher, who was well aware she suffered from chronic migraines, her teacher's school of thought seemed to shift. Standing in front of her teachers desk, which was covered entirely with #MentalHealthMatters and #Ally pride magnets, Baum was ridiculed by her teacher for feeling the way she did.
“Well now it all makes sense,” Baum’s teacher pompously said. “All this time you've been getting migraines because you play rugby. Yet you continue to play rugby and then come to my class in pain.”
When this occurred, Baum had never competed in an actual match before. Barely into the start of the season, she had only tackled another player 7 times, and had only been tackled 5, therefore she had not obtained a brain injury in that time. Lucinda was shocked, attempting to not come across as having an attitude, she reminded her teacher of her pre-existing condition, and reassured her it had nothing to do with her choice of extracurriculars.
The girls surveyed reported being stereotyped as being unable to tackle, both too and not “butch” enough to play, too fragile to get tackled. They’ve been judged by teachers for unrelated health issues that their teacher credited to them playing rugby, as well as countless comments about their height and weight compared to their mental image of the ideal rugby players body.
For current teammate and recent transfer student, Allie Butler, having to combat stereotypes she would face from her friends and family is not worth the hassell. Having transferred from University of Utah, her long distance friends and relatives see womens rugby as an opportunity for gay women to touch eachother without outright doing so. Butler keeps her new found interest to herself for the most part, having only told her closest friend from back home, and her mother and father. She does not post about rugby on social media. She does not bring it up at Christmas.
However, part of the allure to the sport is the inclusivity and the freedom to express our individuality. Jenna Brown, standing a mere 5’ 2”, with a buzzed bleach head, there is not a visible body part that is not covered in a tattoo. Openly gay and embodying the butch stereotype, Brown still is faced with negative comments about playing the sport shes loved since she was a child. Having to answer comments about how “her body should be able to do more,” and “she was too frail and small to play such an aggressive sport,” Browns experiences demonstrate that no matter what stereotypes the individual may fall into the category of, the public’s perception of female rugby players always go farther than we expect.
After talking to the group of girls I surveyed, I was disheartened to learn that most of the girls thought that once they began to play that the comments would come to a halt. Unfortunately, knowing ex-rugby players and having played as long as I have, I am more than aware that these long believed stereotypes run deep, and will continue to haunt the player as long as they associate with the sport.
I got into rugby at the young age of 10, having been dragged to my younger brothers' matches along with my father's collegiate teams. At the time, there were only two other girls my age playing, and only one of them would end up sticking with it throughout high school. Although our personalities were like oil and vinegar, we quickly became close friends, remaining opposites to this very day. In my teenage eyes, she was almost the epitome of a female rugby player: she was loud, aggressive, and borderline obsessive over Miley Cyrus during her rebellious era. Looking back on those days, I always used to think that she was what a female rugby player was supposed to be, although now I see that she demonstrated some of the basic stereotypes that women’s rugby players get labeled today.
According to World Rugby, which is the overarching governing body of rugby across the globe, 2.7 million females participated in the sport in 2021, ranging from youth leagues to professionals. Rates continue to grow every year, with women’s rugby growing faster than men’s, with an estimate of 40% of all players to be female by 2026 instead of the current 28%. Yet, despite the growth in collegiate teams across the nation, the sport has been unable to gain the traction necessary for championship sport status in the National Collegiate Athletic Association.
Although women playing rugby took a while to grow in popularity, it is clear that its place in female athletics is taking off, and growing exponentially. This shows me that, with more advertisement of it, women are beginning to see the sport as an opportunity to try something new, and hopefully as rugby becomes more distinguishable, those who play will be able to go against the preconceived norm and break the pre-established barriers.
Regardless of how I feel about myself and my teammates being stereotyped and referred to in a negative light, I’m trying to get to the point that I don’t care anymore. The constant ridicule is, by this point, to be expected, but what I have control over is my response. Although no one enjoys being attacked with stereotypes, showing that the women that play the sport are more than what they are seen as is how the stigma will be broken. As the sport continues to gain traction, ideally those who play it will begin to be looked at with less scrutiny. And the way to get there is to first cultivate that confidence internally.