Mom Talk: Real Boys Shoot Like A Girl

Moms, are we still really doing this to our girls? Still?

Growing up, I was a huge Michael Jordan fan.

I played basketball for a lot of years. In fact, when I changed schools in fifth grade, I played ball with the boys. The new school did not have a girls' team.

I even had Air Jordan high tops.

During the Three-peat, I was in college in Milwaukee. My apartment number was 23, so I colored a paper Jordan jersey with a hole to place on my door. I was a big fan.

And yet, I never saw him play. I found out that my younger brother got to go to plenty of Bulls and Bears games. My sister and I were never invited.

My dad asked our husbands to share his season tickets. When I asked why, he said because sports games are a guy thing.

Huh? I can scratch and spit and drink beer and cuss just like the rest of them.

Are we really still doing that to our kids?

Looking back, I realize that Dad taught my brother racquetball and golf. He was taken to all kinds of major league games. Not the girls.

There was no discussion. We were not invited. It was assumed, at least by my father, that he could take his son, but not his daughters.

I always considered myself a trailblazer. And yet, even in my home, there was a double standard.

According to the AFL-CIO, as recently as 2009, women earned 80 percent of their male counterparts' salary. This statistic starts with children. We are teaching boys and girls to have different expectations.

And it's not just our girls.

Recently, a major clothing company executive was blasted in national headlines. She dared painting her son's toes pink for a photo. 

"Boys will be boys," and "he's all boy" are perfect examples. If girls roughhouse, they get called out, sat down and reprimanded. Whereas boys, we expect them to duke it out. If they don't, we call them sissies. If they get beat up, they are not allowed to cry "like a girl."

Well, all these years later, I got to go to my first Bulls game ever a couple weeks ago. My husband took me to their last regular season game. They shot just 43 percent from the field. My beloved Bulls were tired. Even Derrick Rose's free throws weren't smelling so sweet. 

It reminded me of my shooting camp. In junior high, Coach Pat Sullivan taught me how to stand at the line. I still remember the hand positioning, the backward hand motion and the release.

When I finally made it to the United Center, I kinda felt that particular night that somebody needed to teach those Bulls how to shoot like a girl.