Today, my mind is on Miss Simone Biles, Olympic gymnast. When the news hit the other day that she wasn’t allowed to perform at her dynamic level, my heart sunk. How do you handle beating all the odds and reaching an almost unbelievable level of athleticism just to be told that you can’t achieve more than your current personal best because no one else can compete? Is it time to admit that this “every child gets a trophy” stuff has gone too far?
The fact that Miss Biles wasn’t allowed to be her best because others would try to match her skill and fall short was b.s. at its finest.
And now the news has broken that she walked away from the competition. She stated that it was due to her mental health. My heart broke for her, and, try as I might, I will never be able to understand what this whole thing must feel like to her. She has done what others view as impossible on and off the mat, and, just like that, it appears as if the bullshit systems that she broke through may have been exactly what broke her.
I remember reading about Miss Biles a couple of years ago. I don’t know much about her, but I know that she and her siblings were removed from her mother’s care due to drug addiction and bounced around the foster care system, which is a story that thousands of our own West Virginia children can relate to in a way that I can only emphasize with. Not only that, but she’s a young black woman, which within itself presents obstacles that, again, will never be mine to bear.
Over and over again, she went places that she was more than likely told, either by word or by action, that she didn’t belong. How does one go from foster care to the Olympics anyway? I can’t even begin to imagine what that would take! Imagine how many stars had to align and how much the people who loved her had to do to make all of this possible. Her grandparents adopted her, and I can’t imagine the stress and fear they experienced throughout the whole process.
I wish I could be in a room with her to hug her. I want her to know that, although I have limits to my depths of understanding, I do have empathy for her. I know how childhood trauma can sometimes re-emerge in adulthood and make you feel as if you’re still that scared and unsure little girl. And then, when your fight or flight kicks in, you do both at the same time by walking away.
Kudos to her for naming the precariousness of her mental health and how it fits in with her physical well-being, but it shouldn’t have had to come to this. Imagine working your entire life to honor your gifts and then watch as your purpose morphs into your Achilles Heel, while you watch the powers that be shoot arrows right into it.
Maybe I’m off base. Maybe the ruling earlier in the week didn’t have much to do with the current event, but I can’t be convinced that they’re not related. She hasn’t lost since Obama was president. She’s been quoted in various news articles of carrying a heavy burden, and I imagine the pressure of measuring up is overwhelming…
Especially as a black woman. Especially for someone with lived experience with being removed from her mother because of drug addiction. Especially for someone with lived experience in the foster system. Especially for someone in her 20s. Especially for someone who most agree is the best in the world, the Greatest Of All Time.
I have read that she said she was worried about being hurt, and I can’t help but to remember that others can’t compete to her standard without injury. How sad if that was what her brain fixated on, making the risks that she took seem even more of a risk? I picture it as the mental block my kid has with parallel parking; once someone makes you doubt what you know you can do, the thing becomes harder and riskier.
So many people have invested in her to lift her out of the riptide of her circumstances just to see her get pulled under by the waves. I hope they can find a way to support her in these moments and acknowledge her bravery and respect through it all. Maybe I’m thinking about her all the time because she represents so many youth to me; youth who should be given a chance as well as given some real-life heroes.
I hope they hurry before our West Virginia kids walk away, overwhelmed, apologetic, struggling with mental illness, and unsure, too.
Onward,
Amy Jo
