January 12, 2016

Happy New Year everyone!  I’m doing fine, a bit tired and a lot busy with regular life, which finds me offline more than usual lately.  I’m looking forward to getting back to more blogging in the weeks ahead.  Meanwhile, as often happens in winter, I’ve been writing fiction.  It’s a hobby, and addictive enough I probably need a National Don’t Write A Novel Month.  First drafts are my specialty, thanks.

In a rare bit of online reading today I came across Brandon Watson’s well-timed post at Siris, “Fictional Characters and Political Boundaries.”  He talks about the debate among philosophers about the real-ness of fictional characters.  On the one hand sometimes I want to slap all the philosophers, and on the other hand, I understand the angst: They are in the job of defining things, and they find themselves unable to define something that they know is, in some way, a real thing.

In what way?

This past weekend I was out of town, and I had to resist the urge to walk up to a guy, a total stranger, to whom I wanted to say, “You remind me of a friend of mine.”  The difficulty being that the person he reminded me of was one of my characters.  Luckily I’m shy enough it was an easy temptation to overcome, and no innocent bystanders were harmed by an encounter with a crazy-writer person.

A criticism leveled at certain types of bad writers is the error of creating a “character” who isn’t a real person so much as a symbol or a mouthpiece.  Bad writing (mine) or bad religion (the reader’s) could cause someone to accuse me of that, but it’s not my besetting literary sin.

On the contrary, I find my character’s lives inform me — not the other way around.  They educate me.  They do things and think things that open my eyes to reality.  Sometimes I sit in church and find I can pray better because I’ve absorbed a bit of one of my character’s spirituality and it makes me better able to love God.

So that’s a thing.  The philosophers are bumbling their efforts to describe and define, but they have indeed tripped over a real thing.

***

Father Longenecker has an article up called “Ten Tricks of the Devil.”  I particularly like this article because I’m keenly aware of my own wretchedness, and thus it was a great pleasure to read a list of dire spiritual problems that belong to other people for a change.  Ha.  It’s worth a read, and at the bottom of his post he links to his two Lenten-esque works of fiction, The Gargoyle Code and Slubgrip Instructs, both of which I heartily recommend.  Excellent fun.   We know it is a fallen world because Fr. L. doesn’t have time to publish more fiction than he does.

garcode  SLUBGRIP-Front Cover promo

***

Meanwhile, in a change of pace for this blog, sometime in the next few days I’ll be running a guest post from Timothy Scott Reeves.  His thoughts are prompted in part by a talk this fall by Sister Simone Campbell, during which she related her perception of the miracle of loaves and fishes.  Scott’s going to write about completely different things, but for this minute I want to talk more about fiction and reality.

You can read Sr. Simone’s understanding of the miracle in this interview transcript, scroll down to the very bottom.  When I first read this account, I was astounded by the blatant sexism of it all:

The — OK. This is “Loaves and Fish.” And remember the story in Matthew — in the Gospel, and they’re out in the countryside, and the Apostles say, “Send them back to town, they’re going to get grumpy.” And Jesus says, “Feed them yourselves.” And the Apostles say, “we don’t have it.” Well, at the end of Matthew’s account, he says, “5,000 men were fed to say nothing of the women and children.” Well, now that made me mad.

[laughter]

So I meditated about that. As you can tell, I have an odd spiritual life. So I thought about it, and I realized they only counted the ones who thought it was a miracle. Because the women had brought food from home. They shared it.

[laughter]

But the guys — I mean, don’t you have this — don’t you experience this all the time? Guys will show up. There’s food on the table. “Wow, food. What a miracle. Isn’t that great? It was like elves produced it.”

Because men are so dumb they don’t even know where their lunch comes from?  Really?  You said that on the radio?

But I had a second thought on deeper reflection: I think this woman hasn’t spent enough time with men.  I married one twenty years ago, I gave birth to another one, and I get to compare notes with other women similarly credentialed. I’ve got an awful lot of lived experience on how men look for food.

And this is the thing:  When you go someplace with your husband, or go nowhere at all, he will eventually get hungry.  And then he will turn to you, his wife, and he will say: “What’s for lunch?”

This is the very first thing he will do.

You might then direct him to the bounty that can be had in the refrigerator, the lunch box, or the drive-through restaurant, places he is well able to look for food in your absence.  But if you are there, he will ask you first.

This might be learned-helplessness, but it can also be respect.  One doesn’t just dig through the stash and grab what one wants, lest one accidentally eat what was being saved for someone or sometime else.*

–> A hungry man will never be out someplace with his wife and friends, get hungry, and fail to remember his wife is present and therefore first ask the other men if they brought him lunch.  This is not what men do.

The Gospels aren’t fiction, and for that reason alone they pose mysteries.  Things happen that we do not understand completely, because our real life is not crafted out of cutesy just-so morality tales.

Sexism is a kind of divorce from reality.  Bad fiction, untrue fiction, is a divorce from reality.  And hence the struggle to explain what we instinctively know:  Good fiction, no matter how fanciful, is always inextricably wed to reality.

*Thus in situations where the common-but-not-exhaustively-universal gender-roles are reversed, the question is asked to the man who is providing the food.  My son does most of the cooking at our house lately.  So we all ask him, “What’s for dinner?”

Cover art courtesy of DwightLongenecker.com.

December 20, 2015

Years ago my husband had a business trip to Milan, and he went to church while he was there.  A local colleague tried to puzzle out this behavior, for it wasn’t mere tourism.  “But nothing is wrong with you,” he protested.  “You are young, healthy, intelligent, educated, successful. Why would you go to church?”  Church was where the old and the poor and the disabled went — people who were desperate.  People who needed consolation.

He wasn’t entirely wrong.

The “Holiday Season,” as we call the period between Thanksgiving and New Year’s Day, has become our annual tribute to the god of good fortune.  If you’ve got prosperity, or dear family, loyal friends, or even just a very optimistic outlook on life, you’re in.  Gifts, parties, good deeds — these are all ways to celebrate the blessings of the god of I’m Not Desperate.

It is a lonely season for those who’ve been passed over by wand of the giftmas fairy, those can frankly look around and notice that life is terrible.  The secular holidays are a celebration of all that is good in the world.  When the mandatory joyfulness exceeds the real levels of what’s actual worth celebrating, the disparity creates a gap.  Those who notice the gap aren’t unreasonable in reacting with sorrow.

***

Meanwhile, the Advent scripture readings are a bit over the top for the reader who has it all.  When everything’s fine, a reading like this passage (December 5th- typical of the season) seems overkill:

The lowly will ever find joy in the LORD,
and the poor rejoice in the Holy One of Israel.
For the tyrant will be no more
and the arrogant will have gone;
All who are alert to do evil will be cut off,
those whose mere word condemns a man,
Who ensnare his defender at the gate,
and leave the just man with an empty claim.

For goodness sake, Lord, let me go shopping in peace!  It’s not that you don’t see where some people would find that kind of scripture enormously helpful.  But you’ve got to be pretty far into the hole before you’re hungry for some good old fashioned messianic promises.

Hence the contrast between secular holiday tunes and Christmas carols.  The secular songs celebrate the things of this world — good things.  Friends, family, snowy weather, gifts, sleigh rides, camaraderie.  Things worth appreciating, certainly.  A good Christmas carol, in contrast, picks up on the desperation.  It finds everything that’s lacking even after you’ve counted your earthly blessings.

Consider “God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen,” which wishes tidings of comfort and joy not because all is well at home, but because Christ our Savior came to save us from Satan’s power.  “What Child is This?” isn’t content to sit around the manger with gurgling baby Jesus, but reminds us “nails, spear, shall pierce Him through, the cross be borne for me for you.”  When you need to wake up your Lent, any proper Christmas song will do the trick, and vice versa.  Mall traffic or no mall traffic, you can’t go so very wrong with “O Sacred Head Surrounded” for all your elfin-overload recovery needs.

Related Links for Having Yourself a Desperately Magnificent Christmas:

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Artwork: Richard Ansdell, Lost in the Storm [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

March 10, 2015

When I answered Tom McDonald’s How I Pray series, one of the pile of question marks in the black hole that is my prayer life concerned spiritual reading.  Two answers of late:

1. The book I’m carrying around town and reading in snatches is Jesus and the Jewish Roots of the Eucharist: Unlocking the Secrets of the Last Supper, by Brant Pitre.  So far, it’s excellent. Recommended if you have a general understanding of the significance of the Mass and the Last Supper, and are looking for something to add depth to your Holy Week (or just your every Sunday morning).

2. What I’m keeping by the easy chair is Butler’s Lives.  No particular plan to my reading, other than if I’m looking for something to occupy me for a couple minutes, there it is, I’m making a point of having the current volume readily at hand.

I’m living in a time warp, which caused me to scurry to my computer to excitedly tell you it’s the feast of St. Frances of Rome, only to realize that nope, that was yesterday.  If you don’t know her, you should.  Here’s the seminal post from Erin Arlinghaus for your edification.

Meanwhile, from the life of St. Pacian, bishop of Barcelona, who died circa AD 390:

Amongst St. Pacian’s lost writings was one entitled Cervulus, directed against an obscene heathen pageant which took place annually at the new year and in which, apparently, Christians sometimes participated. . . . Like many a modern censor the bishop found that his strictures acted rather as an advertisement, and at the beginning of his treatise on penance he deplores that the chief effect of his censure was to make more people curious to witness the objectionable revels.

(Read the whole story here.)

There’s a trend among Catholics today — enthusiastic, church-going, Gospel-spreading Catholics — to want to be sophisticated.  To want, like a desperate gaggle of tweenage schoolgirls, to show that we aren’t backwards Bible-thumpers getting our bonnets in a ruffle over the scruples that plague our provincial cousins.  We’re Catholic. We’re in the world, being the leaven.

A desire to engage the culture is fine as far as it goes, but it’s a relative (albeit vocal) minority who’s erring on the scrupulous side.  The bulk of us are so terrified of being found fools for Christ, or so unwilling to bend our necks, that, like the 4th Century Christians in Barcelona, we’d rather run around dressed like wild animals than be caught too pious at home.

 

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Artwork: Clément Bardot (Own work) [CC BY-SA 4.0], via Wikimedia Commons

 

December 23, 2014

You’ve no doubt seen Saturday Night Live’s chillingly (hilariously) accurate tour of what you can expect at Mass this Christmas, but you might still be thinking, Hmmn.  Is it really a good idea for someone like me to go to place like that?  With Jesus in it and stuff?

The answer is yes.  Here are my top ten reasons why:

10. It really is the Church for anybody at all.  There might be other religions where you’re expected to have your act together from day one.  Catholics, on the other hand, have not just one but three sacraments ordered towards the fact that we’re all total screw ups, and four others that certainly hint hard in that direction.

9. Those in the know will be grateful and appreciative if you just do the respectful-visitor thing.  If you’re just visiting, no problem.  Come in, find a seat where you can see, and participate as much or as little as you like.  (Don’t go up for communion; if you need to let others out of the pew, just step out of the pew, wait for them to pass, then sit back down.)

8. It’s safer than going to the grocery store.  People who are sick should stay home.  Friends don’t let friends kill each other at Mass.

7. If you’re out sick for Christmas, there’s an endless supply of make-up days. Even through the holidays, there will be a Mass nearly every day of the week.  Jan 1 is a feast day, so look for services both New Year’s Eve and New Year’s day.  You can check Masstimes.org for contact info, but phone and listen to the recording to find out the Mass schedule through the holidays.

6. You’ll be reminded that no one’s doing this for entertainment.  Okay, so there’s a chance that you’ll show up someplace that’s got movingly beautiful music and an amazing sermon to boot.  More likely you’ll end up at one of the bazillions of parishes run by people who must really love God, because they sure aren’t there for the show.   Wherever the parish you attend falls on the spectrum, it’s a good way to spend an hour of your life.

5. If you have to read along with the prayer card in the pews, it’ll make you look like a pro.  A few years ago the English translation of the Roman Catholic Mass was updated.  What this means is that all the old-timers, the ones who go to Mass whenever they possibly can and have been doing so for decades, still don’t know the new words.  So you’ll see all these people pick up their cheat sheets when it’s time for this or that prayer.  You can too, and you’ll blend right in.

4. Real live Catholics goof up the Mass too.  Some people worry that when they visit a Catholic Church they’ll look funny, because they don’t know when to sit-stand-kneel-shake-rollover.  The truth is that many regular Mass-goers still don’t have it all down straight, to the point that some priests give hand signals to the congregation with such clarity and firmness it impresses the Dog Whisperer.  And then there’s a whole contingent that get so lost in prayer, or something, that the autopilot picks up the wrong cues.  Plus there’s the people with bad knees who couldn’t do the up-down-over routine even if they wanted to.  Sit in the second row or beyond, follow along as best you can, and don’t sweat it.

3. God will be happy you came, and no one else’s opinion matters that much, does it? Just come.  When you can and how you are.  People who have a problem with that can take it up with the Almighty.

2. You’ll be helping the pastor conduct a massive experiment on his congregation. All year long, the people who attend Mass every Sunday do this routine where they pass themselves off as holy, pious people.  And then, twice a year, the Church runs a test.  All these visitors show up, and the regulars lose their regular parking space and their favorite pew, and they have to see these people they don’t even know!  And then the pastor looks out and sees who remains smiling and prayerful, and who is maybe not so holy after all.   Since repeatable results are the gold standard of scientific proof, you’ll want to inflict your presence on the regulars as often as you can.

1. You’ve got a God-given right to come check it out.  The Catholic Church isn’t just for people like you, it’s for you.  Come to Mass.

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Pieter Brueghel the Elder (1526/1530–1569) [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons

 

August 5, 2014

 

It’s the time of year when mothers start to get excited about school.  Before you actually start the work is the ideal to time to share school plans, because once you’re underway the enthusiasm can wear off a bit.  So here are my plans for the coming school year, starting with Mr. Boy.  I’ll cover the girls’ plans in two or three subsequent posts.

High School. Oh My.

The boy starts 9th grade, which means the college-prep clock is ticking and the transcript is officially turned on.  We’ve been working up to this, gradually getting less relaxed and more rigorous over the past several years.  At the start of this summer I took a look at our plans for the new year, took a deep breath, and resigned myself to studying Greek literature.  We’ve been using Kolbe’s homeschool course plans for 60-80% of his school work since the boy was in 6th grade, and I’ve been very happy with them.  I knew we wanted to stick with Kolbe for high school, knew their curriculum was about right for our boy, but wow, what a lot of work for a certain highly-distractible mother.

Still, I resolved to do it.  Must. educate. child.

And then I found the third way.

Someone Else Could Teach My Kid

“So, um, darling, I know it’s expensive, but what if we enrolled the boy in online courses?”  Much to my relief, the spouse was open to the idea of investing in some sanity-saving delegation of responsibility.  Our choices for the boy were:

  • Local public school.  Not bad, but not our first choice.
  • “Local” Catholic school.  Pricey, but financial aid happens, so it was not out of the question.  It was the commute that made it the option of last resort.  We didn’t forsee having hours to spend in the car twice a day.
  • Closer evangelical-run homeschool hybrid school.  Similar cost to Catholic school, minus the Catholic.  Advantage of being able to take classes by-the-course and cut down on costs that way.
  • Teach the kid ourselves.  Always a possibility. We are homeschoolers, after all.
  • Wait . . . there’s another way?? Yes?

Once we stacked up the financial downside of Catholic school or hybrid school, and the time investment of getting the not-yet-driving child to some physical location, online classes came out as the obvious middle way.  The boy is very much at home online, and since he’s a good kid, he responds well to high expectations from the adults in his life.  (Of course his parents have not “high” but IMPOSSIBLE expectations, as we are frequently informed. Hence the interest in outsourcing a little of the teaching load.)

I’m risk-averse, however, so it was a tad nerve-wracking making the upfront investment.

Summer Trial Run

It is as if the brilliant people at Kolbe Academy had installed a web cam in my brain.  They offered summer school classes, both of the fun type (Lord of the Rings something or another) and of the, “Oh my goodness is my kid ready for high school?!!” type.  We decided to try out the summer program as a trial-run to see whether this whole online-learning thing would work or not.  Having experienced the jolt that comes from changing school systems, I thought it best to pick classes that would prepare the boy for the new school’s expectations.  Thus we skipped the fun stuff and enrolled him for the summer term in Composition Boot Camp & Algebra 1 Readiness.

It went great.  He was vocally skeptical until about 24 hours into the first class session, and then he got serious about his work.  Quit making goofy complaints about the instructor, and got good about claiming the PC aggressively so he could get his work done.   (“It’s a middle-aged lady sitting at her computer,” he said the first day.   I chuckled and pointed out that regardless of where he attended school, he was getting exactly that.  Who do you think teaches high school students, son?  Super models?)

What I loved most about online classes: The class keeps meeting no matter what else happens in regular life.  We needed this.  I’m sold.

The One Weird Thing: Foreign Language

So that’s the plan for most of the boy’s education: He’s taking Theology 9, History 9, Literature 9, English 9, Algebra 1, and Biology 1 with the online classes.  The one thing he isn’t taking with Kolbe, though it was tempting,  is Latin.

Late spring a year ago, in anticipation of an upcoming used book sale, I asked the boy what he’d like to do for high school foreign language.  (I needed to know so I could start scouting out books in the language of his choice.)  The tricky bit is this: Whatever he picked, he had to stick with for three years of high school level work, because that’s what colleges tend to want.  We’d been studying Latin with modest but not amazing success, and I wasn’t convinced that he’d be enthusiastic about three more years of intensive Latin.  Still, it was on the table as a possibility, and I’d be game for learning with him.  The other choices I offered:

  • Spanish, which I don’t speak but would willingly commit to studying with the kid.  A practical choice, and one for which we could find ample opportunity to practice our budding skills locally.
  • French, which is not very practical but is much easier for me to teach, since I know the language fluently.  In terms of sheer easiness, this was the the top pick.
  • Whatever else he wanted.  We’d invest the $ in textbooks or software, but he’d be on his own.  Still, if he’d always fantasized about mastering Tagalog or Old Ukrainian, fine with me.  Or whatever.
  • Actually if he picked Italian or something else that struck my fancy, I’d learn that one along with him, sure.

After a certain amount of discussion, he opted for simplicity.  French it would be.

Luckily for us, we have another family locally that has a French connection and three kids at about French 1 age.  I proposed we form a weekly class, and they took the bait.  So what we’ve got on the table is a once-a-week hourly class, and then an estimated four hours a week of homework outside of class.  One hour of that is “immersion practice” which for the core group of kids means “go talk to your relative who speaks this language and practice that way.”

Scalable Textbooks

If one kid’s learning French, that means all kids are learning French.  That’s how it works around here.  I did some hunting around, and picked Memoria Press’s First Start French as our house textbook.    For high school, I have to flesh out the program with a modest amount of additional vocabulary and a handful of grammatical constructions that are usually included in French 1.  Years ago I built a French 1 program from the ground up, so I know the drill.  I think this approach will be much simpler than trying to pick a high school text that’s suited to our unusual situation — neither a regular classroom nor a regular independent-study course.  Meanwhile, my middle school student can use it as-is, and the little guys will follow along with the curriculum from Memoria, but with assignments better suited to younger students.

So that’s high school.  Pretty simple.  The boy also has some fun hands-on mini-electives, all low key science-y stuff that his friend’s mom proposed.   Should be good.

 

 

Photo copyright Jon Fitz, all rights reserved.

August 24, 2024

When my daughter played in weekend-long sports tournaments, we always went to Sunday Mass, and so did the other Catholics on her various teams.

I live in the Bible Belt, though, and I knew that a number of her teammates and coaches were believing Evangelical Christians, so it surprised me that they never attempted to make it to church when they were out of town.

I would not have been surprised if some or all had chosen, instead, to host a short private prayer and worship service of some nature — but for these committed Christians to have no Sunday church at all was not on my mental bingo card.

But there it was, season after season, and it is understandable that a pastor of such absentee souls would like to do something about that.

Pastor James Griffin from Crosspoint Community Church has generated significant discussion with his promotion of a Thursday evening service, targeted towards members who can’t attend on Sundays due to any number of possible schedule conflicts.

No one seems to doubt that first responders and healthcare workers have to work on Sundays. I have not seen much discussion of Sunday work generally, either. What seems to be gathering the most attention is the question of travel sports.

For example, Anthony Bradley asked:

Question: how did parents succumb so easily to the false belief that travel sports are actually beneficial—allowing sports to determine the rhythm of the family? Why don’t parents just say, “we’re not doing that?” What happened?

I’d like to answer this one.

Why play travel sports at all?

There were quite a lot of negative-type answers to Bradley’s question:

  • Parents are living vicariously through their child.
  • Family is convinced their child will pay for college through sport scholarships.
  • Weekend sports fill a void in the soul, giving purpose to an otherwise empty interior life.
  • Sports are a source of community and friendship in an increasingly lonely age.

A few parents, though, gave the same answer that we had: If my child wanted to play her sport at a competitive level (that is to say: at her ability level), weekend travel-teams were the only option.

In our case, we had a younger daughter who played the same sport, but only recreationally. Fortunately she attended a small school where there was room on the roster for players at her ability level.  In contrast, quite a few dedicated, hard-working athletes attending the enormous nearby public schools could not get onto their school team even if they trained year-round.

We certainly could have told our elder daughter that she simply was not going to get to train and play her sport — we nearly did so, in fact, but her first few club teams offered her scholarships that brought her costs into our budget. I recall at least one very talented teammate who nearly always traveled with another family, because her own family could not afford the expense of a hotel and a weekend away.

All that to say: There are quite a few of us who wish that there were local leagues where our children could practice their chosen sport at a suitable level given our child’s ability and interest, but it’s not on offer.

In our case, it wasn’t something we were in a position to change, either, no matter how much I might daydream of doing so.

Play for this year.

The one dynamic I found most toxic at the upper end of travel play were the families who were pegging everything on their child’s sports career. By “upper end” here I mean teams where the child is playing at the most competitive level within reach of the athlete’s ability and family resources.

These parents were somehow convinced that if only they yelled, and swore, and badgered, and nagged enough, the parents’ terrible budgeting decisions would all be made good thanks to an athletic scholarship down the road. These parents had not done a whole lot of math.*

When we were considering whether to let my daughter play on a travel team, I made one thing clear: We are deciding all this based on what you will gain from this experience this year.  If you never touch a ball again at the end of this season, we still will have been glad you went out for this team.

The game is not the most important thing.

I don’t know if we prioritized athletics correctly in the life of our daughter and our family. That’s a question I don’t think I could assess objectively, and I’m not sure I have the knowledge necessary to do so.

I know that God appears to have cooperated with our good intentions, and certain very good things (for example, that son-in-law I mentioned on this blog earlier this summer) came into our lives directly due to the fact of my girl following her athletic dreams as far as they might take her.

Personally I did struggle, and still do, with the fact that weekend sports means making other people work on Sundays — people who can’t go to church because they are busy making my leisure plans happen.

But I look around me and notice that the Church is not speaking out against watching Sunday  Night Football, nor against the evils of athletes whose Olympic dreams came at the price of Sunday practices and competitions. That isn’t the most rigorous conscience-formation that ever was, but also I can’t say that these things are prohibited, when clearly they are not.

But yes, we went to Sunday Mass every weekend. Sometimes it was a Saturday vigil, sometimes it was the early-bird, sometimes it was the last-chance Sunday night, sometimes it was a mid-afternoon Spanish Mass.

The first year it was stressful, because we didn’t know what we were getting into, but thank God it always worked out that we could find something, somewhere, that worked with the play schedule. After that, we knew to speak to the coach before signing with the team and clarify that Sunday Mass was not a negotiable.

We made it clear that we would attend whichever available Mass was least inconvenient to the team, and that we understood it might mean having to be benched if our child missed a game due to the conflict, but was this okay? It was always okay, and also we never had to miss a game, because the silver lining of the priest shortage is that many parishes offer lots of odd-hours services.

I was glad for this chance for my child to see that although I was willing to put a lot of time and expense into helping her do something that was important to her, God was still more important than anything else we might have on her schedule.

I was also glad for the opportunity to teach her and show her: Yes, you can go to church when you’re out of town. Just look up the various services, pick one, walk in and find a seat. It’s not difficult, and you get to see some interesting things.

Related: Are Sports Sabotaging or Strengthening Your Family’s Faith?

Australia vs. USA 1996 women's paralympics basketball

Photo: Australia vs. USA, 1996, women’s basketball, courtesy of the Australian Paralympic Committee.

*Yes, I know that sometimes a student-athlete really does end out making more money on athletic scholarships than the family spent on sporting to get there, but that’s a rare situation. Making sports more widely available is a good goal, because sports can be good for us, but your far better bet for paying for college is a combination of good grades, a weekend and/or summer job, and putting that cash you’d spend on a travel team into a 529 plan instead.

August 3, 2024

I’d like to talk about sporting categories generally, and then look at a couple of specific situations for people with XY disorders of sexual development.


Update 8/4/24: See here for “Toward a Robust Definition of Sport Sex” by David J. Handelsman in Endocrine Reviews. Table 2 lays out all the variations in genetic and physiologic status for the purpose of determining how to categorize an athlete for elite sport.  (To my knowledge everything I say below in simpler terms is consistent with this article.)


What are sports categories for?

Sporting categories exist in order to create opportunities for fair, enjoyable play for whoever the category was created for.

We create categories based on age, based on interest (recreational vs. highly competitive), based on budget (local vs. travel teams), based on resources (D1 vs. D3 schools), based on skill (C1 vs. C4 cycling), based on size (featherweight vs. heavyweight), based on physical ability, and also quite often (but not always) based on sex.

You can no doubt think of other categorization systems as well.

Aren’t the categorization rules sometimes unfair?

A frustrating reality of categorization systems is that they are imperfect. The child whose birthday falls just inside the maximum age-limit for a team has an advantage over the year-younger child who is also lumped in the same bracket.

Likewise, given the limited availability of teams, a newer, less skilled, or less physically adept child may struggle to find opportunities to play a given sport, due to restrictions on age or sex categories.

Shouldn’t categories be flexible to allow for these exceptions?

It all depends. Fortunately some less-competitive leagues will allow category exceptions, specifically in acknowledgement that a given player is of a fitting size and skill level for the team, despite not matching the general categorization.

Likewise, given a limited pool of athletes, there might be some mixing and matching of rules. For example, a youth team might be co-ed, but with older girls allowed to play in a younger boys’ age bracket, or younger boys allowed to play only if they move up to an older girls’ bracket.

Another example: I’ve been playing this summer in a co-ed hockey league that is for either 45+ or beginners, and the categorization is “you would like to play a chill, lower-contact, slower-paced game.”

In some situations, though, flexing category rules doesn’t work well.

Are there are important social reasons for the categorization?

Single-sex teams (and other groups) may have been created specifically for providing the unique mentoring and community-building that boys-only or girls-only groups provide.

Alternately, a team or league might be strictly-single sex due to religious or philosophical concerns about modesty or appropriate male-female interactions.

Changing it up: A team might be strictly co-ed because its physical, aesthetic, or social purpose centers on male-female pairs.

And moving on to other social purposes entirely . . . A team or group might be strictly lgbtq+ (or a subset), strictly for those in addiction recovery, strictly for children in foster care, etc., because it exists to create support and community for persons with experiences under some portion of the stated umbrella.

Is the category too hypercompetitive?

I wish I could say this is only a problem at the elite level, but there’s something about sports that brings out insanely, manically competitive behavior in otherwise seemingly normal people.

Thus unfortunately your local kiddie t-ball team or adult rec softball league might have to start checking birth certificates and enforcing strict eligibility requirements because the grown-ups have gotten so emotionally warped that they are determined to win at all costs, or at least go down trying.

When the stakes are higher — when scholarships, prize money, endorsements, fame, and advancement to the premier level come into play, then things can get extraordinarily nasty, fast. The only way to be as fair and sane as possible is to set clear categorization rules and stick to them.

How do the Olympics fit into all this?

The Olympics runs competitions for a limited number of sports, so there’s already a paring down of which athletes will ever have their accomplishments acknowledged at the Olympic Games.

Within that framework though, the Olympics has decided (rightly) to create sex-based categories, in addition to a few size-based categories such as for boxing.  The Paralympics also uses ability-based classifications specific to each sport.

I think we can reasonably say that the sex-based categorization of Olympic sports is not for a purely social reason. It’s not to help young men and women to build community and social support with others of their own sex. The two categories exist because the goal of the Olympics is to see who is the very best in the world at a given athletic feat.

For nearly all Olympic sports, if there were not sex-based categorization, only men would qualify.  The physical performance potential between males and females is massive, because human female bodies are designed to accomplish tasks that male bodies cannot do; in the survival tradeoffs, female athleticism takes a backseat to childbearing capacity.

And thus it becomes of interest: What can the very best-trained female athlete do?  Just how far can a woman’s body go in pursuing a given athletic task?

Note very well: We don’t have to have elite women’s sports. We could decide that from birth through adulthood, girls and women will simply play in the co-ed league that matches their ability level, and that will mean the best females will do quite well at the recreational level, end of movie.

If that is your stance, say so.

Those of us who support the existence of female-only sports beyond the recreational level believe that it is good and worthwhile for women to be able to see just how far a female body can go. This requires strict sex-segregation.

An aside on safety and bodyweight:

–> In some sports there may also be safety hazards at play, as there is a significant gap between the size and power of the largest and strongest men compared to the largest and strongest women.

Likewise, in sports with bodyweight categories, a male of the same weight as a female opponent will have greater physical power, and at the very least should play up to a higher bodyweight category to offset the male physical advantage in strength-to-weight ratios.

I mention these two factors because they are equally pertinent to the examples that follow, and would also apply to athletic organizations that aren’t pursuing a goal of promoting female sport, and therefore allow males into “female” categories, but may nonetheless decide that not injuring the smaller, weaker athletes is a worthwhile secondary social goal.

How does all this affect intersex, non-binary, and transgender persons?

Keep in mind that sporting categories can exist for any number of reasons. If your goals are primarily social, then your local sporting category rules can be adapted to meet whatever the social goal might be.

We know that the Olympics and most (but not all) other elite sporting events don’t have a primarily social focus in sex-categorization because of the many female athletes who socially identify as transgender or non-binary but who compete, rightly, in the female category. They have female bodies, and do not engage in testosterone doping (if they wish to be eligible for the female category), and therefore they are correctly striving to see how just well their female bodies can perform at their chosen sport.

One of the difficult cases, however, is for individuals who test as XY genetically, but who due to a disorder of sexual development were assumed at birth to be female.  Let’s look at two examples.

Should every XY athlete compete in the “male” category?

In 1999, the IOC stopped performing the routine genetic screening (via a cotton swab on the inside of the athlete’s cheek) to confirm that all female athletes were in fact female. This has created the scenario in the present Olympics where athletes disqualified for testing as XY by their own sporting bodies have gone on to compete as females at the Olympic games.

In the interest of fairness (and safety), a return to screening would be a simple, low-hassle way of quickly confirming that female athletes are eligible for their category.  Such screenings are faster and less invasive than the many anti-doping screenings that are routine in elite sporting due to the widespread problem of cheating.

However, a strong case can be made that some XY athletes flagged during a routine genetic screening should be allowed to appeal and play in the female category. Others belong in the “male” category, even if socially they have chosen to maintain a feminine personal identity.

In Swyer Syndrome, the affected person has XY chromosomes but develops female genitalia and does not undergo puberty unless hormone replacement therapy is provided.

It would be reasonable that a woman with Swyer syndrome, receiving female hormonal therapy and who has by definition never been exposed to male hormones, let alone male puberty, be allowed to appeal for the right to compete in the “female” category after an initial cheek swab genetic screening raises a flag.

It’s no doubt a frustrating situation having to take that extra step after screening, but also by the time a woman is actually competing at the elite level, she’s probably already been to the doctor for her amenorrhea and has the case notes ready to go. If the cheek swab results are in fact a surprise to her, it’s a fortunate catch, since untreated Swyer Syndrome causes osteoporosis due to the lack of estrogen, as well as an increased risk of certain tumors.

In justice, sporting authorities should have an accelerated pipeline for referral, diagnosis, and treatment in these rare but real cases, so that the young woman doesn’t miss out on important competitions due to bureaucratic delay.

While one could make the argument that all XY athletes should automatically be required to compete in the male category, Swyer Syndrome seems to be a legitimate exception — not because the affected persons “identify” as female, but rather because in terms of the goal of seeing just how far a female body can perform, physically this is the matching group.  The usual course of treatment does not confer male physical athletic advantage.

–> Obviously if a person with Swyer Syndrome has made the decision on diagnosis to pursue male hormone therapy (a valid personal medical decision), thereby undergoing the masculinizing affects that confer male physical advantage, then the “male” category would be the better match.

Now let’s look at a different disorder that leads to a different result.

5-alpha reductase deficiency causes an XY male to have underdeveloped male gonads to undergo male puberty:

Doctors diagnose 5ARD when a baby with female-like or nonbinary genitalia has tests that show 46,XY chromosomes and specific hormone levels (high testosterone and low DHT). In older kids or teens, doctors might notice the condition when someone who looked more female at birth starts to develop changes typical for males during puberty. Tests will show the same hormone pattern as in younger children.

Although men with this disorder may experience impaired fertility, they are indeed able to father children.

While this is obviously a very psychologically and socially challenging situation, there is no doubt that for elite competitions (even at the high school level or as soon as the disorder is identified), the athlete should compete in the “male” category.

We could go through every disorder of sexual development and make similar assessments, but we’ll stop there. For more reading:

In all cases, there is no reason to assume that an athlete with a disorder of sexual development is intentionally trying to game the system; a fair and consistent application of the category rules based on the physical facts of the individual case can put to rest any such suspicions.

Joe Thomas (football) and Simone Biles (gymnastics) high-five at a celebrity softball game.

Photo by Erik Drost: Joe Thomas (American football) and Simone Biles high-five during a celebrity softball game, via Wikimedia, CC 2.0. One of the other beauties of sex-based categories for elite sports is seeing how sports such as gymnastics differ in style because of the ways that male and female bodies are each magnificent in their own distinct ways.


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