Kicking Male Privilege in the $%#!

mfXiimMIf you know my wife, you know she is amazing.

Published author. Mom of four. Wife of a guy with a crazy job, a weakness for grad programs, and a fondness for long runs.

And soccer coach in training.

As I type (on Saturday morning), Amy is at the second session of her two day coaching certification course. Today is the field portion of the training. She’ll spend four hours this morning, busting her tail learning how to wrangle a group of under 8 girls into some semblance of a soccer team over the course of this Fall.

I’m guessing she’s going to come home tired, sore and overheated. I’m guessing she’ll also come home…


Turns out that of the 30 coaches-to-be in Amy’s certification course, 2 are women. On top of that neither of the facilitators are women.

Talking with Amy before last night’s kick-off lecture, she was anxious about going, knowing that there would be very few women in the room. Would the instructors take her seriously if she had questions? Would she have to endure innuendo? Would she feel safe in the room? Walking to her car after?

Processing with her beforehand, I was struck by the contrast to my experience in the same course, two years ago. I had none of those concerns. Instead, my big worry was being bored. It’s laughable really. And illustrative.

Male privilege is the real deal.

This morning, as Amy prepared to head out the door, there was more to fret about. What should she wear? Fresno summer mornings are hot, but you want to cover up, especially in the presence of 30 male strangers. Or, it was clear that there wouldn’t be bathrooms at the field site, and it’s, uh, tough for a women to pee behind the bushes…

In the end, mercifully, the whole experience was better than she feared. We’re thankful. And yet that still makes the point. The men at this training had the privilege of not worrying about what they’d experience, a privilege that Amy did not have.

So, let’s add this to the list of Amy’s amazingness:

Woman of courage.

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