Want to hear something sad? When I was a freshman in high school, I tried out for—and was cut from—every athletic team (except cross-country and track; I’m not a runner!). Volleyball, basketball, softball, and soccer were all closed doors to me. The coaches were so kind, but in some ways that only made the rejection worse. I desperately wanted to be athletic, to be a part of something bigger than myself, to be included in a team, and to do something fun and active with my body, but at five foot nine and ninety-some pounds, I was a walking beanpole prone to tripping over my own two (tiny!) feet. (A woman of my height should not have size six and a half shoes.)
I eventually made the cheerleading squad, became involved in theater, and joined the journalism club. I found my people and my place, and I have fond memories of high school. I have also spent the majority of my life eschewing sports, claiming to anyone who asks why I’m not joining sand volleyball or ultimate frisbee that: “I’m just not athletic.”
Which is why it’s so strange that a couple of years ago I decided to start playing golf. I had spent literal years riding along in the cart while my husband and kids played, and one day I had simply had enough. I am a healthy, able bodied woman in the prime of my life—what on earth was stopping me from swinging a club?
Turns out, I’m a decent golfer. I have a really “pure” swing (whatever that means) and an uncanny ability to follow directions. After I took a few lessons with a golf pro, he told me: “You literally do exactly what I say when I give you an instruction.” I had just bombed a drive over 200 yards. Of course, I still duff it off the tee box and sometimes fall apart completely. But hey, that’s the game.
However, that happy little recap completely disregards the uphill battle it was for me to feel comfortable on a golf course. The first several times I went golfing with my husband and dared to swing a club, you would think I was preparing for hand-to-hand combat. My heart rate skyrocketed, my palms sweat, I was so sick with nerves I almost quit before I even started. Why? Because golf is predominantly a “man’s space” with an entire culture of casual machismo that made me feel unwanted and unwelcome. Cart girls are allowed (the pretty young things who drive around the course delivering drinks), but golfing is first and foremost “guy time.” I found myself scouring the parking lot, the clubhouse, and the range for even a glimpse of another woman who wasn’t just “along for the ride.” I shook on the tee box if the pace of play was slow and there was a group behind us waiting (they were always men and I was always insanely intimidated). Sometimes, I just gave up altogether, believing that people were rolling their eyes at the newbie, annoyed that I even dared to try.
To be fair, a lot of those insecurities were my own. The majority of people I have met on the course have been very kind and supportive. Our local club is a fun and welcoming place to be, and there are tons of women who play (our ladies league is stacked). But there are definite exceptions, and in the time that I have been golfing and following the sport of golf, it has become undeniable: golf is very male.
Which is why the recent Good Good ad for Callaway’s new driver is causing such an uproar. It’s only a few seconds long. Take a look.
It’s ugly, right? I mean, Callaway apologized and pulled the listing, and Good Good issued a statement, but people aren’t buying it. “It was just a joke!” some claim. “Lighten up!” But he shoves her, and she gasps, and the music is menacing. When he stands over her, finger pointed, face coldly serious, and says “Do not touch my new driver,” women don’t chuckle, they cringe. It’s violence against women as a punchline, period. Permission to elevate a golf club over your wife or girlfriend, to go so far as to put hands on her to preserve a possession or “bro time” or some twisted position of status in the eyes of fellow thinly-veiled misogynists. The ad didn’t feel at all like a joke—it felt like a reminder to women: we may let you play, but don’t think for a second that you actually belong.
Ironically, I’m guessing the Venn diagram of men who thought this ad was funny and those who scream about “protecting women in sports” is a circle.
There are hundreds of commentaries about the link between an advertisement like this and domestic violence, and I highly encourage you to spend a bit of time exploring. So many are smart and well-articulated, well worth the read. Because DV is not something that I am personally familiar with, I’ll leave that exegesis to the experts. For me, this marketing misstep is many things, but it is also a perfect example of why we need DEI. Would this ad ever have been made if there were women in the room?
“According to Republicans, DEI is a woke agenda to hire women and Black people (totally unqualified ones) so companies can fill diversity quotas, taking jobs away from white men who are qualified.
According to Democrats, DEI is a framework that aims to ensure equal treatment and consideration of all candidates, including people of color, women, veterans, LGBTQ+ individuals, and those who are differently abled.” What Does DEI Mean and Why Are People so Mad About It? Maria Cassano, Medium
Whether you adhere to a Republican or Democrat definition of DEI, it doesn’t erase the fact that DEI is about more than just access or lack thereof. It is also about representation, about considering things from different viewpoints and perspectives, and making spaces welcoming and inclusive to all. When different races, ethnicities, genders, ages, abilities, and socioeconomic backgrounds are in the room, good things happen. Blind sides are identified, thoughtless decisions are checked. Other viewpoints are considered and less mistakes are made. In short, everyone wins.
There are companies, businesses, and people who don’t want to see the world through the eyes of another person. I suppose that’s their prerogative, but I have nothing but pity for them. What a skinny, wretched worldview. What a waste. To never be curious, to consider how your neighbor might perceive the world that you share, is just so sad to me. And at a time when we have been encouraged to tunnel in, circle the wagons—pick your metaphor about living a self-focused, insular life—to turn our backs on our each other is nothing less than self-harm.
You’re only hurting yourself, babe.
Perhaps Callaway and Good Good were only hoping to appeal to a very narrow demographic with their gross ad: golf bros who are A-OK with a little casual misogyny (or racism, bigotry, ageism, or homophobia). It’s their loss. This middle-aged mom of five and new golfer is casually in the market for a new driver. Clearly theirs is not for me. But maybe Takomo’s is…
Tamoko Golf Company dropped this ad in the aftermath of the Callaway and Good Good debacle. Please take my money. I’ve always wanted to be a part of something bigger than myself—something where everyone is welcome.
Eyes open. Hearts steady. Hands ready.
Thanks for reading. xoxo - Nicole
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