1)Frontline Reporter said:When I saw him,despite his Techniques & HardWork,he is also easily loved by people.After watched his game,I think fs should be redefined,he has more art&deduce in his prog.There was a cameramen next 2 me crying while taking pictures of him.All reporters pic.twitter.com/LjbHqIF7sv
I wrote for @Slate about the tacit acceptance of child abuse in figure skating, a sport I've followed for twenty years. Mind the triggers of descriptions of abuse and eating disorders. https://t.co/idu323qI27
Some fans have decried Tutberidze’s methods, using social media to highlight her abusive practices. Others try to thread the needle of supporting her skaters without supporting her. On the opposite end of the spectrum, I’ve seen fans holding banners with Tutberidze’s face on them. Sports fans want to cheer for winners, and Eteri girls always win.
I’m one of those fans who knew about Eteri Tutberidze’s abuse. I fell in love with figure skating when I was 5, mesmerized by the spins and jumps I watched at the Olympics and by the delicate beauty of the girls and young women in elegant, sparkly dresses. I begged my parents to enroll me in skating classes, but we couldn’t afford it. The only way to pursue my love of the sport was by cheering on my favorites. I’ve celebrated when products of Tutberidze’s system won medals, and tried to tell myself that it was normal and fair. But I’ve also watched documentaries about the legendary, now infamous gymnastics coaches Bela and Marta Karolyi, and they’ve helped provide a language for what I’ve seen in figure skating: a culture of child abuse.
The Karolyis discovered that pre-pubescent girls, with smaller, lighter bodies, could more easily complete the difficult skills required of elite-level gymnastics. Those girls were pushed into a brutal training regime and were not allowed to complain about pain, for any reason. Either they competed while injured, or they were replaced. This kind of environment—where the voices of tween and teen athletes go unheard—allowed a predator like Larry Nassar to flourish. All the while, the Karolyis were treated as celebrities and heroes, able to mold children into champions.
As with the Karolyis, Eteri Tutberidze’s abuse was an open secret. Instead of questioning her methods publicly or policing them privately, the most prominent and powerful people and institutions in and around figure skating—the International Skating Union, NBC, and countless others—promoted a sanitized, fairy-tale version of the sport to casual fans, of sparkles and ice princesses and graceful, youthful champions. Their silence has allowed an abuser to thrive.
Rachael Denhollander, the first American gymnast to publicly accuse Larry Nassar of abuse, asked the right question during his 2018 legal case: “How much is a little girl worth?” The Court of Arbitration for Sport’s decision to let Kamila Valieva compete answers the question: nothing. A 15-year-old girl who tests positive for a banned substance could not possibly have ingested that substance without the direction and approval of adults. By allowing her to skate at the Olympics, CAS has vindicated her abusers, emboldening them to use further unthinkable methods. And we will all watch on live television, as her body bears the trauma of adult desires: to win, at whatever cost.
