Retired Gymnast, Navigating the Spaces Between Velcro
Before executing an uneven bar routine, it is important to chalk your hands.
This improves the grip between the skin of your palms and the porous surface of the wood bar.
In my final competition, before retiring as a competitive gymnast at age eleven,
I walked onto the mat of the uneven bar without having chalked my
hands.
Stepping onto the mat, I held the record for the highest swing on uneven bars in Ontario for my age category.
Hands dripping with sweat
from acute awareness of an awakening adult body,
I turned and presented to the judges.
I stepped up to the bar for my mount,
a half glide kip.
On my first circle around the bar before the tuck hold,
I lost my grip and
fell,
toes pointed,
my legs in straddle,
my butt hit the mat first,
shame suppressed any pain from rising to the surface.
The low bar reverberated with a sound gymnasts are all familiar with,
the sound of a slipped grip,
failed trick,
it ricochets through the gym,
it pangs
through the body.
I finished the routine, and placed eleventh.
11:11, make a wish.
Pushing down the humiliation of the fall,
I moved onto my floor routine with something to prove.
This is the mentality a competitive gymnast is trained to have;
performance is the goal,
you push this body for the
result.
I never placed as well on floor as I did with other events, but at this competition, floor would be the last event of my entire gymnastics career.
My sweaty
palms
were a nice match
for the dark blue carpeting
of the floor.
Tumbling to an instrumental rendition of “Crazy” by Britney Spears,
the sweat absorbed and wicked away with each round-off back handspring.
I knew once I had finished that I would place well,
the execution of the routine clicked,
my self aligned,
cohesively,
it felt right.
Something you are always working towards, but doesn’t happen very often.
You have overcome the barriers of your body
and
have performed to your highest
standard.
Sitting
amongst
the other girls
waiting for our awards, I
was conscious of my body, stuffed in a navy blue velvet competition leo,
I felt her failures and triumphs of the day.
I was conscious of how it looked,
compared to the other girls in my age group,
I had fuller hips, a bigger butt, and prepubescent ginger shadowing starting to sprout on
my bikini line.
I am reminded of a conversation Dave, our director, had with me and my parents
“…we want to move her to the tumbling team, we think her lower body
could affect her performance if she continues in the artistic program, she’s
just built better for tumbling”. *
I placed first on floor at that competition.
Maybe tumbling would be a better fit for me.
I never got the chance to find out.
A recent physical
raised
concerns about how 24 hour weeks in the gym
was affecting my body’s
development and I was forced into early
retirement.
At the end of the meet,
I sit with my parents in the bleachers,
ribbons in hand,
medal around neck,
watching the white Velcro tape
being pulled up at an angle off the
dark blue carpeted tumbling
floor.
*That early exposure to Adultification made me want to chop off my hips that day
© 2021 Jazmin Gareau
This improves the grip between the skin of your palms and the porous surface of the wood bar.
In my final competition, before retiring as a competitive gymnast at age eleven,
I walked onto the mat of the uneven bar without having chalked my
hands.
Stepping onto the mat, I held the record for the highest swing on uneven bars in Ontario for my age category.
Hands dripping with sweat
from acute awareness of an awakening adult body,
I turned and presented to the judges.
I stepped up to the bar for my mount,
a half glide kip.
On my first circle around the bar before the tuck hold,
I lost my grip and
fell,
toes pointed,
my legs in straddle,
my butt hit the mat first,
shame suppressed any pain from rising to the surface.
The low bar reverberated with a sound gymnasts are all familiar with,
the sound of a slipped grip,
failed trick,
it ricochets through the gym,
it pangs
through the body.
I finished the routine, and placed eleventh.
11:11, make a wish.
Pushing down the humiliation of the fall,
I moved onto my floor routine with something to prove.
This is the mentality a competitive gymnast is trained to have;
performance is the goal,
you push this body for the
result.
I never placed as well on floor as I did with other events, but at this competition, floor would be the last event of my entire gymnastics career.
My sweaty
palms
were a nice match
for the dark blue carpeting
of the floor.
Tumbling to an instrumental rendition of “Crazy” by Britney Spears,
the sweat absorbed and wicked away with each round-off back handspring.
I knew once I had finished that I would place well,
the execution of the routine clicked,
my self aligned,
cohesively,
it felt right.
Something you are always working towards, but doesn’t happen very often.
You have overcome the barriers of your body
and
have performed to your highest
standard.
Sitting
amongst
the other girls
waiting for our awards, I
was conscious of my body, stuffed in a navy blue velvet competition leo,
I felt her failures and triumphs of the day.
I was conscious of how it looked,
compared to the other girls in my age group,
I had fuller hips, a bigger butt, and prepubescent ginger shadowing starting to sprout on
my bikini line.
I am reminded of a conversation Dave, our director, had with me and my parents
“…we want to move her to the tumbling team, we think her lower body
could affect her performance if she continues in the artistic program, she’s
just built better for tumbling”. *
I placed first on floor at that competition.
Maybe tumbling would be a better fit for me.
I never got the chance to find out.
A recent physical
raised
concerns about how 24 hour weeks in the gym
was affecting my body’s
development and I was forced into early
retirement.
At the end of the meet,
I sit with my parents in the bleachers,
ribbons in hand,
medal around neck,
watching the white Velcro tape
being pulled up at an angle off the
dark blue carpeted tumbling
floor.
*That early exposure to Adultification made me want to chop off my hips that day
© 2021 Jazmin Gareau
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Installation View/ Goldsmiths, University of London Degree Show/ 2020