I think on this International Women’s Day let me just come out clean and admit a few things. There are moments in a man’s life that challenge his integrity. Moments when he must choose between truth and deception, between confessing his real thoughts and upholding a respectable image. Lol
For me, that moment came during the Olympics, sitting beside my dad, who was a lifelong sports fanatic, as we watched the women’s long jump event. And everyone knows I don’t do sports, bores me to death.
Dad, bless his pure, disciplined soul, was watching as a true sportsman. He analyzed the technique, the angles, the raw athleticism on display. His brow raised in concentration as he nodded thoughtfully and muttered things like, “aka kama mbululuka, yesesi.”
Meanwhile, I sat next to him, nodding along, pretending to be equally invested in the biomechanics of professional long jumping.
But in reality?
I was there for Fatma. Fátima Diame, the Spanish long jumper. The triple jumper. The woman who single-handedly made me pretend I cared about takeoff angles. She stepped onto the track, and suddenly, I had nothing but respect for the sport.
Her skin, deep and radiant, soaked in the golden glow of the stadium lights like she was absorbing energy from the gods themselves. Her legs, long, sculpted, built for speed, moved with the kind of effortless power that made me question if she was even bound by normal human biology. Her lower back, oh Jesus, it had a life of it’s own, those splits, I had those clips in slow motion in my phone all through out first year of UNI, it was crazy. She wasn’t just an athlete, she was a work of art that happened to sprint.
Believe me comrades, watching Fatma run is like watching poetry in motion, except instead of words, it’s muscle, grace, and pure, unfiltered magnificence. She doesn’t just move, she glides, “oh Jesus, she glides” like the track is honored to be beneath her feet. I don’t know how many times, I wished I my face was the sand beneath, anyways lol.
So this International Women’s Day, celebrate the beauty, strength, power, and resilience of women in sports. The dedication. The discipline. The sheer force of will it takes to compete at the highest level.
And also, I personally celebrate the fact that my dad never stopped believing I had any understanding of sports, may his soul rest in peace.
Happy International Women’s Day, to the women who inspire, who achieve, and who make clueless men like us pretend we’re sports analysts for the sake of maintaining dignity.
