What Makes a Victory
How Simone Biles changed everything for women
Yesterday, the USA women’s gymnastics team handily cinched yet another team gold, beating the second-best team—Italy—by an astounding six points. For perspective, this is a sport that makes deductions by tenths, and the gap between silver and bronze, by comparison, was a mere 3/100th of a point. The dominance of USA women’s gymnastics in Paris, and over the last twenty-ish years, absolutely boggles the mind.
It wasn’t always so.
The women first won a bronze medal at the 1948 Summer Olympics in London…and then…crickets. No other team medals were won until the summer of 1984, when the U.S. women’s team snagged silver. And it wasn’t until the ‘90s that athletes like Dominique Dawes and Shannon Miller really showcased the powerhouse sport that women’s gymnastics had become.
In 1996, when we hosted the Summer Olympics here in Atlanta, I was a ten-year-old girl obsessed with gymnastics. We couldn’t afford tickets to attend any events live, but the Olympic torch came through our small town, carried by the nephew of my high school chemistry teacher, and the whole city came out to celebrate in the streets. It was a magical summer, not least of all because it seemed like the U.S. women might finally have a chance to beat the Russian and Romanian teams, who’d dominated the sport for decades.
That same year, I competed at a local gymnastics meet where I earned a “bronze” medal for my round-off back handspring. I wore the t-shirt from that meet like it was my job. Almost nothing made me prouder than being a gymnast and I dreamed of becoming like Dominique Moceanu, the petite wunderkind of the ‘96 Olympic team who performed her floor routine to “Devil Went Down to Georgia” like the absolute star she was. I never even got close to elite level, but I had tons of fun dreaming about it.
This was before online streaming, before constant replays. If I wanted to watch the women’s team perform, I had to get my butt in front of the television and watch it live. Which I did. With gusto. Our living room became my balance beam and vault. I did cartwheels and styled my hair like Shannon Miller. When Kerri Strug landed on one foot for her final vault that summer, earning the 9.712 that gave USA gold for the very first time, I jumped on the couch like Tom Cruise and screamed my little lungs out. For years, a poster of the Magnificent Seven hung above my bed.
Those women were glorious. Like so many others my age, I wanted to be them.
It would take another nineteen years before the public learned what had been happening to those women, and many others like them, behind closed doors.
For decades, female athletes suffered physical and emotional abuse from their coaches, in some cases leading to permanent disabilities and chronic illness. At the same time, under the not-so-watchful eyes of the legendary Karolyis and USA Gymnastics, hundreds of gymnasts also suffered s*xual abuse by team doctor Larry Nassar. Survivors of these tragedies include athletes from the Magnificent Seven, yesterday’s 2024 champions, and hundreds more in between. During Nassar’s trial, it became clear just how many of the most trusted adults in these women’s lives had completely and utterly failed them. Survivors spoke out during his trial in 2018 and voiced the pain they had suffered, a feat that likely required more courage than any tumbling pass they’d ever performed. The abuse they endured while training for competition made their perseverance and victories all the more impressive.
Until 2021.
Simone Biles’ decision to step away from the team competition at the Tokyo games raised all kinds of hell. The internet was aflame with keyboard warriors branding her a traitor, a quitter, and an embarrassment to USA Gymnastics. Commentators who had long praised Biles for her unmatched talent and poise suddenly demanded her head on a platter. She had more than earned a rest and her team, fantastic athletes in their own right, went on to win the silver medal in her absence. But it wasn’t enough.
I watched that moment with my daughter, Lucy, who was seven years old at the time. Two years out from the postpartum depression that nearly killed me, I marveled at Biles’ determination to choose something bigger than fame and glory for the sake of her life.
It didn’t matter that most of her critics couldn’t manage a handstand even if they were paid a million dollars; to the public, Biles was a disappointment of the highest order. She was un-American, and our culture is not kind to national traitors, especially when they’re Black and female. Everyone wanted another Kerri Strug1, who had shattered her ankle as a result of Bela Karolyi’s insistent “You can do it” from the sidelines. As exciting as that moment was, we later found out it wasn’t even necessary. The Russian team had already made a major error on floor and the gold belonged to Team USA. That final vault was historic, yes, but it also ended Strug’s career at just nineteen years old.
Biles said no to that kind of pressure, after years of having no voice at all, and in the end it made her all the more victorious.2
There was never any doubt that Team USA would win gold in Paris. The other teams performed beautifully—Italy in particular was a favorite—but no one could match the difficulty level of Biles, Cary, Chiles, Lee, and Rivera. Gold belonged to those women from the moment they stepped into that arena, but on a deeper level the top spot on the podium wasn’t even the point.
My generation was taught that victory meant pushing through every obstacle, no matter how impossible or frightening or potentially dangerous. Little girls like my daughter have learned that what makes a victory is more than a woman’s impressive performance on the uneven bars. What makes a victory is her courage to choose what is right over what is expected. It’s the wisdom to say no when everyone else wants her to say yes. It’s trusting that there are always more beautiful moments to be made and her value isn’t found in what she can do, but in who she is.
Somebody get us a poster of that.
“I think what success means to me is a little bit different than before.”
—Simone Biles—
Well, not everyone. Former Olympic medalists knew what was up and praised Biles for her decision.
She is officially the most decorated American gymnast of all time. NBD.