Since the age of 13, I have been a supporter of human rights, specifically women in athletics.
It’s always been a huge part of who I am, and my dad was the driving force behind it.
He always wanted to have a boy, but he ended up being blessed with three girls instead. So, of course, being the middle child, I was the “boy” out of my siblings.
I handled the swather, drove the water truck, churned butter, and wrung washed clothes — you know, everything that’s expected when you’re raised on a farm.
Growing up, my dad always said I could do anything a boy could do, that I had as much right as men do.
From the bottom of my heart, I truly believed in that.
And he instilled that belief in me.
To this day, it still inspires me to fight for equality.
The one behind the wheel
That passion followed me throughout high school and into college, where I ultimately pushed for the formation of the first-ever women’s volleyball team at the University of North Dakota.
You see, I never really had an opportunity to play sports in high school. Back then, sports weren’t offered to women where I lived. It just wasn’t a real priority at that time, I guess.
But even when coming to UND, there were only two sports available for women: field hockey and volleyball.
I looked at field hockey and quickly decided getting banged on the shins with the sticks and ball seemed more painful than fun for me. So that made volleyball the easy option between the two. There was only one problem, though: We didn’t have enough players to start a team.
I remember running down the stairs of Fulton Hall, stopping on each floor to ask for volunteers to join the team. They’d all say, “We’ve never played ball before.” Then I’d say, “I don’t care. You got to come up.”
And that’s how volleyball started.
Even though Title IX had technically been introduced at that time, and you could clearly feel a shift, there was still a big push needed to get things moving in a better direction for female athletes.
You’ve heard the old saying, “the squeaky wheel gets the grease,” right? You have to have a driver to push things through.
I would say I was that driver for us.
Take a whiff!
I was that driver because I felt it was really important, you know? Title IX arriving wasn’t like someone just waved a magic wand, and everything was suddenly equal across the board for all women.
There was a time when we had to wear the old sweats from the men’s basketball team because we had no uniforms. I remember walking right into the athletic department, taking off my sweats, and putting them right there on top of the AD’s desk.
I said, “Would you wear these? Take a whiff! I’m not wearing these anymore. I’m not doing it.”
So, we ended up getting a budget, and then we got uniforms when I was a junior.
I mean, it took two years.
So, I’m not sure if it was because of Title IX or what. I’d like to think, at least, that helped push it a little bit.
But we also didn’t want to wait on what Title IX would or wouldn’t do. I just kept going back to my dad’s words: “You have as much right as men do.”
And I kept on pushing.
Even though Title IX had technically been introduced at that time, and you could clearly feel a shift, there was still a big push needed to get things moving in a better direction for female athletes. You’ve heard the old saying, “the squeaky wheel gets the grease,” right? You have to have a driver to push things through. I would say I was that driver for us.
Empowering future generations
That fight didn’t stop after college, either. I’m still pushing, even to this very day, for equal opportunities for women.
I never wanted the future generation to go through what we had to go through back in the day.
I didn’t want them to have to wear old, hand-me-down sweats from male athletes.
My hope was that one day they wouldn’t have to share one locker room with all the women’s sports.
I didn’t want them to share the same grungy showers that had mold in the corners with that awful smell of humidity in the air.
That has always been a big motivator for me.
I still empower young girls through my love for volleyball. I haven’t stopped playing, and I do help coach from time to time. But today, a lot of my involvement also comes in the form of scholarships and other financial initiatives — those are important variables when it comes to empowerment, and I’m fortunate to be in a position to help with that because of the entrepreneurial career my husband and I had.
I talk to probably two or three teams a year on campus, too, to help empower and encourage them. I always talk about philanthropy because I really believe in that.
“Service above self” is my motto for life.
It’s about extending a helping hand out of love and humility without the expectations of receiving something in return.
I’m nobody special.
That’s just who I am, basically.
That’s what my passion has always been.
The backup setter
Change obviously isn’t something that happens overnight, and there are clearly things we still need to work on, including increasing the participation of fans.
If we could draw more fans, we would get more recognition because that’s a whole cycle.
The fans come to support the women, then they start supporting the team, and eventually, they’ll start supporting the community.
It’s kind of like a snowball effect.
But it’s still an uphill climb.
The notoriety and acknowledgment of women’s athletes still isn’t where it should be.
Is that something I could change personally? No!
The only thing I can do is try to leave the best possible impression on each individual person that I meet, and hopefully, one day, they can carry the baton even further.
One of my favorite stories to tell in that regard is from my time coaching the Junior Olympics team.
My setter ended up getting a sinus infection and couldn’t play. So I had this backup player that I refused to play because she had a serious attitude.
But with my setter out, I was suddenly put in this tough position to seriously consider playing her.
She wrote me this letter. I’ll never forget it.
She talked about a tough life at home, where her parents weren’t getting along.
She said, “Coach, I know you don’t want to play me because I have a crappy attitude. But I promise if you put me in, if you let me play, I’ll play my hardest and my best. I will not give you attitude. I won’t talk back. I won’t give you the eye roll.”
I ended up putting her in, and we did just fine as a team.
That same girl called me up five years later and said, “That weekend, you changed my life. My whole life changed at home and everything else because you believed in me. You took a risk. You took a chance. You believed in me, and now, I believe in myself.”
When somebody says you’ve changed their life, it hits you differently.
You learn that you touch a lot of people’s lives and don’t even realize it until years later.
Maybe you never hear it.
But deep down, you have to believe that you touch other lives in a positive way.
You have to know that your decision to prioritize service over self counted for something.
And that is beyond rewarding.
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