Dear Reader
A few weeks ago I had a telephonic date with a hero of mine. When I say telephonic date, I mean a Zoom interview. And by hero, I mean heroine — since that is a detail that’s specific and important to this story. Caster Semenya’s battle to convince groups of people and organizing bodies (especially those concerned with regulating women’s sport) of her sex is one that’s courted reams and reams of op-eds and debate. Now, finally, with the release of her memoir, The Race to be Myself, we hear from the South African Olympic middle distance runner herself, in her own words.
Her memoir is a book I absolutely recommend, even though parts of it will make you angry. At least, if you believe that an 18-year-old shouldn’t be subjected to the kind of poking and prodding Caster was, when she was made to undergo gender verification tests before the World Championships in 2009. It will make you disappointed all over again to read the harsh comments about her appearance made by other athletes you may have admired (and may still) — said directly or under the breath — at various races over the years. Reliving the gossip and headlines that swirled around her as she made her ascent in the athletics world will really rile you up on her behalf — “PROVE THIS IS NOT A BOY,” “HERMAPHRODITE CONTROVERSY,” “SOUTH AFRICA’S GOLDEN GIRL MAY BE BOY,” are just a few examples that were published.
For some, Caster’s case is a complex one: she was born intersex and produces more testosterone than the average woman, and World Athletics (the sport’s governing body formerly known as IAAF) has deemed that in order to compete she needs to alter her body, either by surgery or by taking medication, in order to lower that amount. (Over the years, they’ve changed the amount they’ll allow.) For others, who believe the science that says testosterone is not always a predictor of performance, and that a woman’s body shouldn’t be policed by others, it’s simple: the way Caster has been treated over the years is horrendous. As she puts it, “I’m different, but it doesn’t make me any less of a woman.”
When Caster first broke out as a rising star in track and field, she should’ve been welcomed with arms wide open for the exciting competitor she was/is, and lauded for the excitement she brought to women’s running. Instead, she’s faced barrier after barrier in her attempt to fulfill her potential and compete; to run free.
But Caster’s memoir is not so much about running as it is about a human being facing tremendous amounts of discrimination and admonishment. The story starts in her home village in rural Limpopo where her dream of being a soccer star was trumped by her running prowess, and ends in France, where the European Court of in July ruled that Caster’s human rights had been violated by World Athletics’ regulations. The ruling doesn’t grant her the ability to go back to racing though, and, as the legal struggle to do that continues, the window for her return to the track grows smaller and smaller by the day.
Her battle now is not for herself but for others who are coming up behind her, and for those who have been made silent. We know so much about Caster’s story because she’s become the poster person for this issue. But what of all the other women – mostly from Asian and African countries – who’ve faced similar trials because they are different, who’ve taken the medication or had the surgery and it’s left them unable to compete anyway? What of the stories we don’t know, haven’t heard, won’t read? What of the other “different women” who just wordlessly disappear from the sport completely? How far do you go in regulating talent? And what is the end point of this game of altering women until they fit what the Western world has deemed to be the ideal body of an athlete?
So yes, there’s a lot of anger you’ll feel when you read this book.
But, you’ll also feel empowered.
You see, reading Caster’s book, and, indeed, talking to her, feels a little like conversing with a self-help sage; someone who’s walked the road ahead and wants you to know what’s coming can only be helped by rooting yourself in your own confidence, your own worth and inherent value. Each time she uses words like self-love and self-acceptance, it can be a little guru-like, but it’s like she’s really wanting the message to sink in.
It’s about human rights, Caster says. It always has been. And whatever may happen with her legal battle to run, she wants to see respect win the day: “Human rights must be considered first before any other thing,” she told me. “We are not animals here. We are human. We are all people. Respect comes first.”
When I watched this year’s World Champs, I missed seeing Caster compete, and her trademark “Cobra pose.” I asked if she still watches the races and she enthusiastically nodded. “Remember,” she says, that self-confidence on full show, “I made athletics look good. Just because I'm not running, it doesn't mean I should stop watching athletics. For me to support people that are running, I watch; I watch everything. I love athletics.”
In spite of it all, love wins. Caster has every reason to turn away from athletics, to dislike those who’ve stood in the way of her competing. But she chooses to focus on the love and reverence she has for the sport — whether she’s on the field or off.
It’s like she told me, “I'll always be part of running. I'll always be part of athletics. And it doesn't mean if I'm not running, I'm not going to be part of it. I'm going to coach. I'm going to develop athletes. I'm going to teach. I'll always still fight for what is right. That's me.”
As the book goes out into the world, and the sport grapples with how it treats people in the name of fairness, her message is the hope that “each and every individual, especially those who are different — that feel like they don't belong in this world — end up feeling like they do belong.”
“There's nothing wrong about them,” she says. “My hope is they find it in their heart to understand themselves; understand their purpose, that they’re here for a reason. My hope is to change the perception of this stigma, this stereotype of feeling rejected.” It’s a message for anyone who’s ever felt the sting of not being accepted; a message even even the most amateur of athletes can stand to hear: “It's okay to be rejected. You must not be scared of rejection.” As Caster did, maybe you even run towards it.
Thanks so much for reading!
Your neighbour
Nadia