Ruby Tui of the Black Ferns walks out ahead of the 2022 Pacific Four Series match between Canada and New Zealand Black Ferns at The Trusts Arena in June. Photo / Getty Images
Ruby Tui of the Black Ferns walks out ahead of the 2022 Pacific Four Series match between Canada and New Zealand Black Ferns at The Trusts Arena in June. Photo / Getty Images
As the 2022 Women's World Rugby Cup begins tonight in Auckland, Cherida Fraser reflects on a personal turning point - from loathing to loving rugby and becoming a club manager
I drunkenly drew a parallel the other week when All Black Jordie Barrett played for the first time at No12 to help bring home the Rugby Championship 2022 – that the blood streaming down his face was the blood of "the curse". A curse of masculinity. The weight of the nation was resting on their shoulders and they were required to heroically put their bodies on the line, lest we lose our national pride. Jordie's flowing blood was a symbol of this effort – the curse of being a man, or a curse of masculinity in Aotearoa that sees domestic violence increase when the All Blacks lose.
It was this masculinity that always put me off rugby. I grew up in 80s Invercargill, a bogan with a hint of goth who never played team sports. Then I moved to Wellington and hung out with artists and those who hovered at the fringes, rather than the mainstream. Rugby symbolised drunk lads, misogyny and violence; and if there was a game on we would huddle somewhere around Cuba St, listening to some indie punk band while mocking rugby culture.
The first time I watched an All Blacks game I was 30 years old and living in Paris. New Zealand was touring France and my Parisian friends assumed me to be patriotic and know WTF was going on. Most of them were migrants from football-loving African nations but they still knew more about rugby than I did.
Five years later I fell in love with my partner to a backdrop of the 2011 Men's Rugby World Cup. It was an exciting time as All Black wins punctuated our honeymoon phase. He loved rugby and I was going along for the ride but still preferred to watch the graceful flow of a football rather than the blunt stops-and-starts of rugby. Honestly, what is the point of a scrum?
Nevertheless, I had a new social circle of smart, kind, and funny people who all liked rugby and this was interesting for me. Where was the toxic masculinity and thuggery I had come to associate with rugby culture? The sociologist in me examined my newfound milieu with curiosity.
Jump forward a few more years and, when my son wanted to play rugby aged 4, I was apprehensive about what joining the local rugby club would be like. Was this feminist going to be walking into a pit of testosterone-fuelled chauvinism? Was my precious boy going to get the sensitivity pummelled out of him? Quite the contrary. I could never have imagined how inclusive, warm, supportive and enjoyable it would be to be part of this rugby community. I was forced to confront my own long-held perceptions and I was surprised - both at rugby and myself.
When you see Black Fern Joanah Ngan-Woo standing next to Kendra Cocksedge, or All Black Aaron Smith next to Sam Whitelock, you see that rugby is a game for everybody. My boy, skinny and short, not a fast runner nor a solid mass, had found his place in a team that resembles a pick 'n' mix from the local dairy. Big kids, little kids, shy and outgoing kids, all working together to get that ball to the try line. It's often chaos but they care when a kid goes down, or cries with disappointment. No one is telling anyone to toughen up, and if they do there are three more parents saying, "It's okay, mate" and offering a warm hug and a positive pep talk.
The girls in our club are formidable (much to the astonishment of some granddads on the sidelines), they're hard-working clean-out queens, determined tacklers and busy halfbacks. Our club boasts two Black Ferns and an impressive senior women's team. New Zealand Rugby is taking steps for better inclusivity and we have commentators like Alice Soper to hold them to account. Rugby may have been a boys' club when I was growing up in the 80s but that idea is as obsolete as the prevailing (and stifling) attitudes of the time.
Keen rugby players Johnny and Charlie.
Our kids joining the local rugby club really sealed the deal. I don't know if it is the pure joy of watching them participate in sports, the warm Pacific vibes ever-present in our club, the fiercely inspiring women and girls who play, coach, and organise; or the inclusivity and pure community spirit that did the trick, but I'm a convert. I am a feminist rugby tragic. This is a sport I'm happy for our boys to be a part of - not because of the enduring masculinity but the increasing inclusivity.
My friends have worked through their confusion about my transition to a suburban rugby mum identity, and now accept that come Saturday night, I won't be answering the phone because we'll be settled in as a family to cheer the Black Ferns in their first game for this Women's Rugby World Cup.
Cherida Fraser is a researcher, community advocate and dedicated rugby mum based in Wellington. She recently received trophies for Manager and Administrator of the Year at her local rugby club prize-giving.
