She lives? She lives!

As I haven't posted in possibly forever, I figured I'd recopy an LJ post from about a month ago regarding women's rugby in America, and the blatant disregard for its existence. Hope you enjoy and/or discuss...

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In light of my evening (last night) spent selling beer/concessions to roughly eleventy billion people (read: mostly drunk middle-aged men, drunk college boys, and really drunk skanky girlfriends) at the Jimmy Buffett concert at Nissan, I'd like to take a moment to rant a little. Diatribe, if you will. Actually, I don't care what you call it. I'm not putting it behind a cut because a.) I'm lazy, and b.) it's my journal, and I don't give a fuck right now. (read: or ever.)

Yes. Yes, incredibly intoxicated Jimmy Buffett fans and patrons of the Nissan Pavilion, that tip jar does say "Support the Northern Virginia Women's Rugby Football Club". Yes, I know it's nearly impossible to get your minds around. "Wait, so you chicks play rugby?" one of you drunkenly slurred, eyes bloodshot at a respectable (read: you're pathetic) 6 pm.

YES, AMERICA. WOMEN NOW PLAY RUGBY. Only - wait, get this - we've been doing it for something like 25 years. No, we didn't start playing because our boyfriends play. Conversely, we don't all play because we're "dykes" (that one is thanks to a particular charmer who didn't tip after buying $80 worth of beer and harassing at least two of my teammates).

I realize the idea of a club of 60+ women who can outrun, outhit, out-feint, out-think and out-drink you big, manly men out there is a mindfuck, to say the least. I realize this. We all do. We're also kind of sick of it. We're sick of you asking us if we're gay, we're sick of you asking us to tackle/armwrestle/"show us that thing you do where you all grab each other!" (it's called scrumming, and we don't "grab each other," we bind as per iRB regulation so as not to snap any of our teammates' or opponents' necks or other vital extremities).

One more thing, (not-so-) friendly Parrotheads and other Neanderthalic breeds of folk out there; the one thing that prompted me to write this thing in the first place. I'd like to make something very clear on behalf of the thousands (if not millions, at this point) of women all over the planet who play this fine game.

We make it very clear in the names of our clubs, the names of our tournaments and events and pretty much just in general. It's women's rugby. It's not girl's rugby, it's not chick['s] rugby, and it's certainly not girl's or chick['s] FOOTBALL. There is a completely different sport called women's football, and those women are just as respectable and frankly awesome as we are. But they are not us. Different sport. Completely. In every sense of the word. Different. What we play and what we are is WOMEN'S RUGBY. And nothing else.

Northern Virginia Women's Rugby Football Club. Virginia Commonwealth University's RAM Women's Rugby. Learn it. Live it. Love it.




And we are through.