Karey Yates
Argent, come back to Houston! Also hope your fantasy tournament jerks step on Legos. (Also, every time I hear “female chaser” used as a position like “point chaser,” I throw up a little in my mouth.)
Karey Yates
Mariana, there will always be jerkfaces who want to debate pointless things. Keep arguing louder, and keep signing up to snitch! You’re always welcome at my tournaments!
Karey Yates
Woooo! *Applause for Lyla!* Can’t wait to see you kick ass at the Midsummer tournament!
I bring my chat with Melissa back up.
Ellen: This is . . . weird and cool!
Melissa: Right?
Ellen: But also sort of sad? Like, sad that this has to exist. Sad that even quidditch players can’t just be non-misogynistic nice people.
Melissa: Well, some of them can.
I laugh, and glance at the count of group members at the top of the page. Apparently some 435 quidditch players actively try to be non-misogynistic nice people. I guess that’s not too shabby.
Melissa: I’m going to introduce myself. Want me to include you, or will you make your own post?
Ellen: Oh, um . . .
I’m in no hurry to break my lurking streak. I don’t understand where Melissa gets the confidence to post online, talking to strangers openly about herself and her life. I’d always rather stay anonymous and invisible, an observer but not a commenter.
Ellen: I wasn’t planning on it.
Melissa: Oh, should I not mention you at all?
Normally that would be my preference. But it’s quidditch people, and they seem cool, and maybe I don’t want to stay anonymous forever. Maybe I’d even like to get to know people from this group.
Ellen: No, that’s fine. I don’t mind.
My computer dings with a notification.
Melissa Larsen has mentioned you in a post in the group “S.P.I.F.: Society for the Promotion of Intersectional Feminism (in quidditch).” Click to view.
Melissa Larsen
Friday at 8:15 PM
Hey, y’all! I’m Melissa (she/her). I’m new to the group, and I just wanted to say that the existence of this group is *super* exciting! Hooray!
(Also my friend Ellen is new, too. She is also excited.)
Ellen: Yay! . . . Now I’m anxious.
Melissa: You’re welcome
For the rest of the night, Facebook dings every few seconds with comments on Melissa’s post, welcome messages and smiley faces and pictures of llamas and cats. It’s all a little overwhelming, but each one makes me smile.
* * *
• • •
It rains on Saturday, so Connie postpones garage work again. I sleep late and bring my granola-bar brunch to the couch, where Yasmín is watching cartoons. I pull out my phone to see if Karey has posted any updates about the League City game tomorrow. What will we do if it rains?
Instead, my newsfeed shows me a post on the quidditch feminism group.
Nico X
Saturday at 11:15 AM
As an athlete and a feminist, I hate that sports culture tends to be so full of this bullshit. Someone needs to tell these assholes to act their age, not their shoe size. I know quidditch isn’t perfect, but we are so far above what goes on in other sports with the gender rule and this group, and that gives me hope when I come across crap like this:
Link: College football coach: “If you didn’t want to be harassed, why become a cheerleader?”
I know I shouldn’t click the link. I know that clicking the link will only lead to rage and unhappiness. I know that it is too early in the day to click the link. But I click the link.
A few seconds later I throw my phone onto the couch with an exaggerated sigh. Yasmín frowns at me before turning back to the TV, and I sheepishly retrieve my phone. When I click back to Facebook, comments appear under the post. A few sad faces, a few eye rolls, and one comment that startles me.
Merrick TheGreat
As an athlete and a feminist *ally*
Since you’ve indicated in previous posts that you’re straight, cis, and male.
I try to hold back a sigh. Part of the reason I don’t post is because I don’t want to deal with this sort of thing—the random reminders that everything you say is going to annoy somebody. As internet comments go, this is a pretty polite message. But still, it makes me sigh.
I send Melissa a message with a link to the post.
Ellen: I don’t really get the “dudes can’t be feminists” argument. Like, I get why they shouldn’t get cookies or lead the charge or be invited into all the safe spaces, but . . . it’s an ideology, not an identity.
Melissa: Oh, I thought we were looking at the article itself, which is gross.
Melissa: But yeah, boo to that noise in the comments, too.
Melissa: I’m going to say something.
I consider telling her not to, but I spend too long thinking and pretty soon another comment pops up under the post.
Melissa Larsen
I will never understand the “dudes can’t be feminists” argument. I totally see why straight people have to be allies to LGBTQ+ causes and white people are allies for people of color, but “feminist” doesn’t describe an oppressed group. Feminism is an ideology, so anyone who shares the ideology should be a feminist.
I gulp. Melissa is so much braver than I am. Fearless. Just reading her comment makes me sweat, because even if it’s Melissa’s name on top of the post, those are more or less my (paraphrased) words up there for anyone to see and tear down.
Merrick TheGreat
Wow, no one asked you to rescue the poor white guy. I thought we were going to screen out the baby feminists to keep the group free of their toxic bullshit.
Welp. This is why I don’t comment.
On the couch next to me, Yasmín calls my name at least twice.
“Sorry,” I say, pulling myself away from the train wreck on my phone. Already comments are popping up, some in support of Melissa, some piling on the hate. “What?”