It’s sexual difference that makes possible the art, contends a former Olympian
My journey toward what some have termed “sex-realist feminism” began when I was a fourteen-year-old ice dancer. Surprisingly, the pivotal moment was not the day I picked up Pope John Paul II’s “Letter to Women,” nor was it while studying the work of Edith Stein, Mary Ann Glendon, or Erika Bachiochi. Each of these thinkers has profoundly influenced my understanding of authentic femininity and feminism—an understanding rooted in the equal dignity of men and women, but also in the complementarity that springs from biological difference and manifests in distinct “geniuses.” I was so receptive to the ideas these thinkers presented, though, because of the insights I had gained through my prior life experiences as an ice dancer.
The pivotal moment actually came the day my ice dance partner asserted that our trainer allowed me to lift lighter weights because I was a girl. Outraged, I forbade him from making such a comment again and promptly complained to my mother. To my surprise, she gently pointed out that, while individual girls might be physically stronger than individual boys, men are generally stronger than women. Reluctantly, I realized that she was right.
As I embarked on an ice dancing career that culminated in the 2014 Olympics, I encountered both the physical differences and the physical complementarity between men and women every day. Ice dancing invites athletes and spectators to acknowledge that men and women differ on a fundamental, biological level, but also that this difference is something to be celebrated rather than feared or ignored. In a culture that is deeply ambivalent about the meaning (and even existence) of womanhood and the direction of feminism, ice dancing can help to clarify our thinking and reorient our understanding of the relationship between the sexes and the true meaning of women’s empowerment.
First, the physical differences between men and women enable the beauty and athleticism of the sport. Size and muscular strength allow men to lift their partners, while greater flexibility and core stability allow women to achieve the positions necessary for lifts, spins, and other elements. I often heard the analogy of a diamond and its setting: the man’s job is to support the woman and show her off. The man “leads,” providing his partner with a solid frame and well-timed cues so that she can synchronize her motions with his. Such language might make the modern feminist bristle, but the roles of the man and woman are equally demanding and equally important. The female ice dancer must be strong, daring, and confident in her body—and any male ice dancer worth his salt knows it.
Second, although the complementarity of male and female ice dancers is rooted in their bodies, it manifests on the artistic plane as well. Ice dancing is not simply a sport; it is also an art form, and as such it gives the spectator a glimpse of transcendent beauty. The beauty of ice dancing cannot be fully explained through generic physical differences between men and women. A small, flexible male might be able to execute the female ice dancer’s athletic requirements, but most spectators would admit that the male-female dynamic is essential to ice dancing. The best ice dancers do more than show off their athletic prowess. They bare their souls, and in so doing put the masculine and feminine “geniuses”—the distinctive capacities and gifts of each sex—on display. They may depict specific characters, like Quasimodo and Esmeralda, or more abstract roles, like lover and beloved or wind and flame; regardless, through their movement they artistically explore the manifold ways that physical sexual difference impacts the emotional, moral, and spiritual dimensions of human persons and relationships.
Let me be clear. There is nothing problematic about two men or two women skating together; after all, sports such as synchronized swimming and acrobatic gymnastics feature same-sex duos. When it comes to ice dancing, however, something fundamental would change the moment two men or two women took the ice.
As John Paul II wrote, “Womanhood and manhood are complementary not only from the physical and psychological points of view, but also from the ontological. It is only through the duality of the ‘masculine’ and the ‘feminine’ that the ‘human’ finds full realization.” Ice dancing reminds us that men and women complement each other in a third way: on the level of being. The differences, and therefore the complementarity, between men and women are rooted in the body, but they are not reducible to physical attributes or actions. As integrated body-soul composites, men and women complement each other, not just because of what they do but because of who they are. Each is completely human, and yet humanity would be incomplete without the existence of either—as would ice dancing.
This male-female dynamic does not mean that ice dancing simply deals in gender stereotypes or confines women to some predetermined role constrained by narrow ideals of femininity. To be sure, the figure skating world too often fails women, creating a culture of body shaming and negativity, and at times even gender-based verbal or emotional abuse. These are real challenges, but they are not intrinsic to the sport. At its best, ice dancing leaves room for innovative and unique manifestations of masculinity and femininity. For example, I have skated alongside some incredible brother-sister teams, who for obvious reasons avoided the romance narrative that is implied in most ice dance programs. And some of my favorite performances have involved the woman lifting the man—a feat so striking precisely because it emphasizes the woman’s strength within the context of her distinctly feminine role.
Western society is increasingly uncomfortable with male-female complementarity. The predominant feminist voices bombard women with (often contradictory) messages: “Masculinity threatens women.” “Men and women are not inherently different.” “Women must conform themselves to a male (non-childbearing, autonomous) standard in order to succeed.” But when we are transported by the spectacle of ice dancing, or even participate in it ourselves, the complementarity of men and women speaks for itself, momentarily drowning out these voices.
Embodied femininity and masculinity, when working in concert, can empower women to attain human excellence and achieve their full, individual potential. In a world that has forgotten this truth (if it ever understood it), ice dancing can serve as a touchstone, rooting our conversations about gender, policy, and culture in a shared experience.
I wonder how long this will last, though. Canadian figure skating’s governing body recently changed its rules to allow same-sex ice dance couples to compete at the highest levels. Some have suggested that this was a practical change meant to compensate for the lack of male figure skaters, but others have seen it as a step toward greater gender “inclusivity.” Perhaps it was some combination of pragmatism and activism; either way, I hope this trend does not continue. There are few remaining cultural institutions that force us to engage with the complementarity between men and women. It would be a shame to lose this one, too.
For now, turn on your TV, click on the YouTube links in this article, or even put on a pair of skates. A culture that embraces “sex-realist feminism” is a long way off, but there is still time to skate toward a future that allows women (and men!) to truly flourish.
Siobhan Heekin-Canedy is a freelance writer with a background in international affairs. She represented Ukraine as an elite-level ice dancer from 2008 to 2014, including at the 2014 Winter Olympics, and served as the North America Regional Director of the World Youth Alliance from 2020 to 2022.
Image: Sean McKinnon