I was only 10, almost 11, when Billie Jean King played Bobby Riggs in the famous Battle of the Sexes tennis match. I remember the thrill of hearing she won, after Margaret Court had lost a game against Riggs some months earlier, but I can’t remember at the time how much I knew about tennis. That result was important to me though – I may have been young, but my feminist tendencies and sense of justice were developing already. A year or two later, at 12 or 13, I played competition tennis one summer, with our tiny rural district’s co-ed junior team travelling around playing other districts. We had community tennis courts just over the road from our primary school, and I remember getting lessons there, and then practicing once a week for our weekend matches. I used to practice by hitting tennis balls against the back of our house, where we had a few squares of concrete where the ball could bounce. It must have driven my poor mother crazy! I remember saying, as I would see how many times I could hit the ball without missing it, that I was Billie Jean King (BJK) winning Wimbledon. I knew I couldn’t be Chris Evert, who was petite and blonde, although about ten years closer to me in age than BJK. And besides, BJK was the best at that time. That was effectively the end of tennis for me, as athletics and music lessons and netball and swimming all took up too much time. Years later, I played again regularly in Bangkok, with one of the other NZ diplomats at her apartment block which had several courts. My colleague was much better than I was, but we could still hit together, and our husbands joined us playing doubles. It’s a regret to me that I never really learned to play proficiently, as it is a great social game.
So when I saw that there was an autobiography by Billie Jean King (All In: An Autobiography) as an audiobook read by her, I had to borrow it. I love autobiographies read by the author. She would get choked up as she talked about people and emotions. It reminded me how real these words are. And what a delight those words have been. I knew that she had been involved in early pushes for professionalism for female players, but had no idea to what extent she had been the instigator and prime mover. Without her, there wouldn’t necessarily be professional women’s tennis on an equal footing as that of men’s. And what a huge battle she had.
As a child of the 60s and 70s, I didn’t have quite the same battles as she did, but I am (and was, even then) all too aware of how restrictive opportunities were to girls and women and people of colour in those days. It is infuriating to hear how the boys teams were sponsored, given free meals, and supported by all the old, crusty white men at the tennis clubs, while she was not. The earliest injustice was when she was pushed out of a photo because, as an 11-year-old, she was wearing white shorts instead of a white skirt, despite being one of the tournament winners. (The dress code only specified that clothing must be “white.”) Or when she first won a Wimbledon title (doubles) as an 18-year-old, her school ignored her achievement, favouring the boys’ sports teams wins. It is maddening to hear how it was such a sport of the elite, until BJK came along. Desperate need was the overwhelming push for professionalism in tennis, especially among women. (Whilst Margaret Court was paid a salary by a wealthy Australian, and others had wealthy parents or husbands, most were part-time tennis players, including BJK – even when she was winning Wimbledon). And it is disappointing to hear that the admired male players of the day refused to help or even speak up for the female players, many of whom were close friends and colleagues, such as Rod Laver, Arthur Ashe (head of the men’s players association at the time), John Newcombe. Margaret Court doesn’t come off too well either, even though Billie Jean is very fair in her admiration of her game and achievements.
What surprised me was the depth of involvement she had in all aspects of the tennis world, from playing to promoting to ensuring that women got the opportunity to play professionally, to dragging tennis administrators into the 20th century, to equal pay, to assisting the first African Americans to play professionally, to mentoring younger players (such as Tracy Austin, for example), etc etc. And with all this, she still managed to keep loving hitting the ball, loving the game of tennis, exhilarated by the feeling of movement, of running and jumping. I can relate to that, even though my knees haven’t allowed me to run and jump for a long time now. I remember the thrill of the feelings though.
Her activism didn’t stop with tennis, although it started there. She was driven by a horror of injustice, first piqued when she looked around a tennis club and was amazed by how overwhelmingly white everyone was. She became involved in many fights to end discrimination in the US. As a New Zealander, I missed hearing about these once she stopped playing, so although she goes through them in some detail, I found it all inspirational. At the end of the book she mentions that when she used to practice in Hawaii, she had noticed a young black guy regularly turning up to watch her. She found out decades later that the young guy was Barack Obama, when he presented her with the Presidential Medal of Freedom, for her activism, rather than simply her (also amazing) tennis achievements. She became great friends with Elton John, who was also a tennis fan, and together they were involved in fund-raising efforts for AIDs research and later other LGBTQ causes. Her achievements are too many to list. But they were inspirational. And she said that, at 80, she’s not finished yet.
Ultimately, that made me feel a little ashamed. Until she said that exercising our activism might be as intimate as conversations in our own home. I’ve thought of political and social justice conversations I’ve had, of volunteering the I have done in the pregnancy loss and childless world, of the writing I still do there. What’s important is that she hasn’t given up. So neither should I. Neither should you.
So glad you enjoyed the book! She really is amazing!
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there is a book out called WIFEDOM…. re Mrs. G. Orwell. You might find it also of interest.
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Oooh, thanks. I’ll look for it. My theme at the moment seems to be strong, inspiring women. lol
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