Marissa Williamson Pohlman is 173cm. Born on the nineteenth day of February in 2002, she is a Ngarrindjeri woman raised on Wadawurrung Country and currently living on the unceded lands of the Wurundjeri Woiwurrung people. Marissa uses she/they pronouns. They are a professional boxer. They have never eaten a witchetty grub.
Read MoreJoe Williams is 171cm. He was born on the fourth day of September in 19831. He is a Wiradjuri/Wolgalu man who lives on Wiradjuri country. Joe uses he/him pronouns. He was a professional NRL player who became a professional boxer and, now a PhD candidate, is an adjunct associate professor at the School of Psychology. He has never eaten a frog.
Read MoreThe tiniest scrape exposes the fragility of it all: any of my ‘achievements’ are so complex they are sullied — each ‘success’ might be more accurately defined as a composite of failures.
Read MoreSport has given me a lot of things: diverse skills, support structures, a wider understanding of myself. It has not rid me of the self-consciousness attached to existing as a girl, then a woman.
Read MoreI think I always knew I just needed to be seen. I believed in myself — not in a cocky way, but I knew I had done what I needed to do to get the opportunity and all I needed was that first chance.
Read MoreIs the essay about lesbians* in sport finally arriving?
Read MoreIs there a viable way for an athlete whose family is not in a position to afford the perpetual costs of high performance programs on top of their regular club fees to make the national league?
Read MoreA man called me a skeezer on The Pick and Roll’s republishing of The Fallacy. I did not know what this word meant. I suspected by his tone, though, it was most likely unflattering, and that was correct.
Read MoreMy brother was driving home late from work last week when he saw a woman on the side of the road being chased by a man. They were both in their early fifties. She was screaming for help. Nobody stopped to help her.
Read MoreI use the word failure to describe myself sometimes and friends flinch in condemnation and pat me on the shoulder. But failure is not an ugly word.
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