Track phenom Lolo Jones clipped her final hurdle, and stumbled, losing her chance for a medal.
The camera lingered on her prostrate form for endless seconds, before replaying her tumble over, and over again: in slow motion, from the back, and from above.
American gymnast Alicia Sacramone fell on the floor exercises, in the final tense moments before the team final was decided. The camera showed Alicia as she fought back tears and then--you guessed it--replayed her fall again and again and again.
Fifteen year old diver Haley Ishimatsu stood at the microphone, having been cornered after she missed her chance at the finals, and broke down.
As much as we like to watch our female athletes succeed, it wouldn't be the Olympics if we weren't zooming in a couple of women falling or crying. And yet, harping on the water-works worth moments can't obscure the phenomenal athletic heights that women are reaching in an (almost) equal arena.
Bodies, positive
Perhaps those obsessive replays of women's falls are a way of counterbalancing the strong, aggressive female bodies on our screens.
After all, during the Olympics, we see women's bodies not for their looks, but for what they can do. Can they stick a landing, enter the water smoothly, sprint through the tape?
It's amazing to watch so many women in tight clothing and never hear their appearance mentioned. From tiny, muscular Shawn Johnson tumbling on the beam at 16 years old to tall, streamlined Dara Torres jack-knifing through the water at 41, our athletes highlighted the diversity of women's bodies achieving mind-blowing feats.
An athlete from Bahrain, Ruqaya Al Ghasara, who ran in a modest uniform garnered surprisingly little commentary. On the cable news shows, her choice of religiously sanctioned dress would have been debated endlessly; here, the attention was on the race itself.
Every two years, the Olympics also provides a rare chance to get a deeper look into the world of women in traditional sports. Our US women's softball, soccer, water polo, indoor volleyball and basketball teams all have or will face off in the gold medal matches for their sports. Our female track stars have been racking up the medals.
The amazing duo of Misty May-Treanor and Kerri Walsh won the beach volleyball finals without dropping a single set.
That's pretty impressive dominance for American female athletes. And yet commentators can never just focus on their athletic stories, always going for the personal.
Drama, Falls and Crying Moms
Aside from the triple-replays of the female athletes' heartbreak, every major Olympic victory has a crying or screaming woman to punctuate it. Each Michael Phelps gold medal was accompanied by a second by second replay of his mom's demonstrative reaction. We got replays of Johnson's weeping mom, sprinter Usain Bolt's jubilant mom, a shot of May-Treanor tearing up as she spread a vial of her mother's ashes on the volleyball court.
We also get regaled with stories about the personal lives of the female athletes in breathless succession. I know how Walsh and May-Treanor met their respective husbands, and when they plan to have children. I know about Lolo Jones' childhood in foster homes, and about track star Sanya Richard's engagement ring given to her by a New York Giant. I know about Dara Torres having a baby, and about the Russian gymnast who moved her son to Germany to receive cancer treatment. I know about the love rivalry/nude photo scandal involving female French and Italian swimmers.
With the exception of super-celeb Phelps, the storyline for men tends to stick to the sport itself: Usain Bolt has emerged as the most decorated sprinter, Jason Lezak saved his team's relay in the final leg.
The need for drama when women compete explains why we relentlessly hype gymnastics-and figure skating in the winter-as spotlight women's sports when American women are also excelling elsewhere. I think there's something about the metaphor of these "grace" sports that resonates with women's place in the world. These athletes are supposed to be elegant, incredibly strong, precise, all while in constant danger of falling from a precarious perch. Sounds like women's jobs every day. (It also must be noted that the gymnasts and skaters are often young, small, and white or East Asian--so conforming, to an extent, to beauty ideals.)
Beyond the Olympics: what's the reality?
The biggest problem may be not what happens at the Olympics, but what happens when they are over. The Olympics create an illusion of gender equality that does not represent reality, even in the US and in other powerhouse countries like Russia and China, where women lack access to health care and equality.
Furthermore, delegations like the Saudia Arabian one, which refused to send female athletes, are soft-handed by the IOC even though discriminating against female athletes goes against its rules.
While much remains that's disappointing, every Olympics seems to bring with it images of female strength that also stay burned in our collective memory. And hopefully those images have the slow power to change minds.
