Beyond the Jargon: Giving Women More Than Just a Conversation

Beyond the Jargon: Giving Women More Than Just a Conversation

This past Saturday, I found myself at an International Women’s Day event hosted by the Free State Sports Confederation (FSSC). The invitation promised “high tea,” and I eagerly anticipated delicate pastries and tea. You know, 'high tea' as the invite said —only to remember, oh right, I’m in the Free State. The event started late, the cake was absent, and the conversation was anything but light.

Despite the heaviness, conversations were insightful. The event was, as expected, a deep dive into the challenges women face in sports and society: gender equality, the struggles of female athletes, gender-based violence (GBV), and more. The room was filled with the right jargon, the kind of language that makes you nod in agreement but leaves you wondering if anyone is actually listening.

Very few of the attendees struck me as actual representations of women in sports leadership. Very few looked the part. Apart from a handful of delegates and the current athletes invited, it felt like it's just another event to get free refreshments.

As I sat there, surrounded by passionate speakers and well-meaning attendees, my mind began to wander. I couldn’t help but notice something missing. Where were the stories of hope? Where were the tales of triumph? When was the last time I heard an institution proudly share its successes—how it had uplifted athletes, provided opportunities, and changed lives?

There’s a stark difference between addressing problems and crafting a narrative that inspires. The human brain is wired to focus on what it’s fed. If all we talk about are the struggles, the inequalities, and the barriers, then that’s all we’ll see. And that’s all we’ll ever achieve.

I have a slightly different perspective on all this talk of equality. Don’t get me wrong—I believe in fairness and opportunity. But when we frame everything as “equality,” we risk teaching women and girls to compare themselves to others.

What message are we really sending? Are we telling women, “Look at what that man is achieving—you should achieve that too”? What if they don’t want to? What if they’re perfectly content playing netball and not rugby?

Equality, as it’s often framed, teaches comparison. It trains young girls to constantly measure themselves against others—the white child, the black child, the male athlete, the female athlete. Comparison is a trap. It is one of the most dangerous mindsets we can ingrain in the next generation. It’s a never-ending cycle of “not enough.

All behavior is learned behavior. ALL. BEHAVIOR. IS. LEARNED.

If we keep teaching our kids to compare, that’s what they’ll do. And what we’ll get in return is entire communities of young girls who feel unworthy, who lack hope, and who don’t believe they can rise above their circumstances.

Let’s talk about those circumstances for a moment.

Here’s the reality: most schools relying on state funding don’t even have sports programs or physical education. Kids in these communities aren’t exposed to sports. There’s no coaching, no personal development through athletics. If you didn’t attend a private school or grow up in a well-resourced suburb, your chances of making it in sports beyond primary school are slim to none. Handing out sports bras to girls won’t magically turn them into athletes if there’s no infrastructure to support their growth.

And let’s talk about dignity for a moment. There’s no dignity in handing out sanitary pads to teenagers. The real dignity lies in empowering them so they don’t have to stand with open hands next month, begging for the same basic necessities

How can we expect these girls to dream about their futures if the messages they hear are devoid of hope? If sports bodies and confederations can’t even spread a narrative of possibility, how will these kids ever learn to dream? In an age where AI is reshaping the world, it’s baffling that we’re still stuck in these outdated, problem-focused conversations.

What I Would Have Done Differently

Great speeches are important, but I would have brought teenagers—kids who’ve never been to an event like this—into the room. I would have given them the chance to mingle with mental sports coaches, professional athletes, and mentors. For two hours, I would have let them rub shoulders with individuals who’ve made it in the world of sports. Let them ask questions. Let them see what’s possible.

That is how you plant dreams. That is how you ignite hope.

Because here’s the thing: you don’t just help someone by staying in their community. You have to bring them out of their circumstances. You have to show them the world beyond their immediate reality. That’s where dreams are born. That’s where hope takes root.

If we don’t show girls what’s possible, if we don’t give them the opportunity to experience it for themselves, how can we expect them to dream? Handing out sanitary pads or sports bras won’t make them athletes. But showing them what it means to be a professional athlete, letting them feel the energy of a room filled with possibility—that might just change everything.

I’m not dismissing the problems we face. I teach in communities, and I see the struggles firsthand. But I also know that if we don’t take kids out of their circumstances and show them what’s possible, they’ll never know what to dream for.

The Bottom Line

Don’t get me wrong—I’m not dismissing the problems we face.

But here’s my takeaway: let’s stop focusing so much on the problems and start crafting a narrative of hope. Let’s bring kids into the room, let them see the world beyond their immediate reality, and give them the tools to dream.

Because dreams don’t come from handouts—they come from possibility. And possibility is something every women deserve to experience.

Everyone who was suffering hardship, and everyone who was in debt, and everyone who was discontented gathered to him; and he became captain over them. There were about four hundred men with him.
1 Samuel 22:2

David took them on and they became David's mighty men because David gave them something to live for. He gave them a cause.