Winter for me means a lot of training, but there isn’t much to talk about in the way of races. However, an incident in December got me thinking about how people treat each other, and some of the common attitudes within the triathlon community, but also in society in general. Admittedly, I can’t keep pace with Twitter, so this commentary would have been a lot more relevant three months ago, but sometimes it seems like the immediate and impulsive nature of social media doesn’t really allow for deeper introspection. I hesitated for a long time before posting this because the story was no longer current, but as time went by, the themes stayed with me. I became more aware of my own tendency towards quick judgment, and I observed all around me the persistent habit of categorizing strangers as The Deserving or The Undeserving, usually based on completely arbitrary distinctions or inaccurate perceptions.
Here is what went down in December:
Danielle Dingman, a talented young athlete who is relatively new to triathlon, qualified for her pro license last season. Faced with typical financial barriers as an unsponsored rookie, she opted to launch a GoFundMe page where friends, family and perhaps even anonymous donors could help her pursue her dream of a career in triathlon racing.
Apparently, this rubbed some people the wrong way.
Brad Culp, a writer and former Editor in Chief for Triathlon Magazine, was quick to condemn this move with the sarcastic tweet “Go Fund Yourself.” He pointed to prominent athletes whose early years were consumed by long hours devoted to (high wage) careers that ultimately enabled financial freedom without the help of a “handout.” He further expanded on his rejection of Dingman in an article on the TRS website, and other pro athletes chimed in, affirming his stance.
There was a compelling element to Culp’s argument, as he presented Dingman as a self-absorbed, dreamy millennial who hoped success would land in her lap. His stereotype appealed to the part of the psyche that says, “Yeah, you know what? I’ve had to make sacrifices. Why should you get anything for free?” By leaning on that American cliché of “pulling yourself up by your bootstraps,” he taps into the familiar tendency to indulge in moral superiority, looking down upon the lazy and undeserving. Indeed, I’ve observed that often when people debate, they seem more preoccupied with attempting to prove “how hard I’ve had to work,” than they are with actually making a salient point. In some convoluted way, invoking hard work is universally expected to lend credibility to your opinions.
Initially, Culp’s article coaxed out and justified my own hidden envy, convincing me to imagine how my pro career could have been different if someone had long ago handed me $13,000 (Dingman’s ultimate budget goal). I thought about the decade I spent in cubicle-land with a salary that didn’t justify the price of my college degree, squeezing in training whenever I could, chronically sleep deprived, racing only short distance because an Ironman would blow the whole year’s budget.
“Yeah,” I thought bitterly, “Go fund yourself!”
…But then I started thinking about all the things that went right. Things like the race entry I won in a raffle, the fast wheels donated from a tri club sponsor, and the small hometown events that offer prize money for age groupers. I recalled the friend who loaned me her race bike when I couldn’t afford my own, and the friend who loaned me the CompuTrainer that has now seen ten years of use. I remembered friends and teammates sharing hotel rooms and giving me rides, and all the people who offered me their guest rooms. I thought of the generosity and support of my husband and my parents, and the opportunities provided by fitness and aquatics directors who hired me, providing extra income AND a free place to train. I thought of all the clients who have kept my coaching business alive, and who keep me excited about triathlon.
I’ve had a lot of lucky breaks, and a lot of help. A lot. Suddenly, I felt embarrassed by my misdirected envy and the inability to recognize my own privileges. It is ugliness that bubbles up from a belief that it is more important to accumulate recognition and pity for your own struggle, than it is to view the world with gratitude, to see the value in all people, and to understand that lifting others up is worthwhile.
As I thought more about the ridicule directed at Dingman, I began to see the manipulations and assumptions that are threaded throughout the critique.
Our culture is shackled to the belief that a person’s value is in direct proportion to the sum of both their accomplishments and the obstacles they’ve overcome. Culp’s dismissal of Dingman sought to undermine both. He deliberately chose words that diminished her achievements. The extreme environment of elite competition was diluted down to simply, “exercise.” Pursuit of world class performance was, at least in her particular case, merely a “hobby.” This terminology implied that her qualifications – as a former professional cyclist, an Olympic trials qualifier, and an athlete who met the USAT pro criteria in her first year of triathlon – were insufficient to warrant credibility as anything beyond a weekend enthusiast.
Additionally, he placed her outside of the acceptable “Triumph Over Adversity” narrative by conflating her financial situation with a lack of work ethic. People who work hard don’t have to ask for help, therefore people who ask for help must not work hard.
I began to consider the criticism of Dingman in the context of how a lot of people – but particularly women – often struggle with a pervasive sense of inadequacy. Many women internalize the conviction that the reason they don’t have things is because they don’t deserve them, or believe that they do not deserve what they actually do have. Publicly shaming someone as undeserving reinforces those deep-rooted feelings of disempowerment, not just for the individual, but for all the community that witnesses it. I am convinced that this societally driven self-doubt plays a significant role in the reason women are underrepresented in the pro ranks of endurance sports. The other obvious factor is one of economic disadvantage (which is even more apparent in the conspicuous lack of racial diversity in triathlon). Given the long history of men’s suppression of women’s dreams and independence, I feel a particular sting as I view the scenario wherein a man criticizes a woman for her inability to fund her own career aspirations.
Beyond his attempts to discredit her, Culp’s moral outrage over her fundraising project seemed to imply that Dingman’s race career might somehow be gobbling up all of our tax money. Except that it’s not. Individuals are free to donate however they please. The false choice presented was that if you support something as ordinary as one individual, you have no room left to care about the big things that “really matter” in the world. In a followup interview, Culp refused to accept that anyone without a personal investment in Dingman would voluntarily contribute to her journey. The conclusion was that supporting the sport generally, or supporting women in sports specifically, are not adequate reasons in and of themselves for contributing to her effort. He was convinced that the only “right” way to support triathlon is by donating to a collection of triathlon charities of his own choosing, and one could feel his palpable frustration at not being able to reach through the computer screen to snatch up Dingman’s donations and redistribute them to their rightful owners.
This brings up the ironic nature of Culp (and others) characterizing Dingman as an entitled millennial. I thought about the word “entitlement,” and how frequently it gets misused. In reference to the unobstructed privileges of the rich and powerful, it is an appropriate term. But so often I hear it used to scold institutionally disadvantaged demographics (women, minorities, the poor, the young, etc) for seeking assistance or opportunity. The problem with asserting that someone is both inferior AND entitled is that it creates a hypocritical bind. The accuser assumes a self-appointed authority to dictate who is worthy and deserving, and to judge someone else’s choices. It is a self-righteousness that seems to display the very behavior it is attempting to criticize.
Ultimately, it is heartbreaking that some people feel justified in smothering someone else for having ambition and passion. We should be breathing life into the hopes and dreams of those around us, not spitefully knocking the wind out of their sails. A community filled with enthusiasm benefits us all. When someone says “I want to pursue my dream,” our collective response shouldn’t be a sneering, “What makes you think you deserve that?”
It should be an encouraging, “I believe in you! Get out there and be your best self!”
Every one of us deserves that.