Young girl learns to wrestle with boys and reality

On Saturday mornings, she’s in a sea of preteens scurrying around a room of blue wrestling mats, body odor seeping into the cloth straps of their black headgear.

A young boy will inevitably look up to find that his competitor is an unusual suspect: an 11-year-old, dirty-blonde, 100-pound girl — Erica Chapman.
He’ll do a double take and look back at his coach.

Caught off guard and unprepared, the boy will have no excuse. Erica is one of the more than 5,000 girls nationwide who are on school wrestling teams.
Since Title IX passed in 1972, a law demanding gender equality in any federally funded school activities, girls have slowly appeared on the roster of scholastic wrestling teams.

While Erica is the only girl who competes on the Bloomington High School South Elementary Dual Team, she said she sees herself as just another competitor, just another kid who wants to wrestle. Erica said she doesn’t label herself as a tomboy, but she’s not “girly” either. Some days, she wakes up early to fix her ponytail just right. Other days, she’s climbing trees, four-wheeling or wrestling on a mat with a boy crushed between her legs.

Erica does most things with her family: her 15-year-old brother Matthew Edwards, her 22-year-old sister and IU student Tiffany Coleman, Tiffany’s husband Chris Coleman and their 1-year-old daughter Alora Coleman.

Tiffany and Chris gained custody of Erica and Matthew two years ago, after Child Services in Delaware County, Ind., found their mother incapable of raising them

After school, Boys and Girls Club and wrestling practice, Erica goes home and eats dinner with her family. Erica said she hopes it’s an enchilada bake or Tiffany’s “upside down pizza.” They make a point to always eat together.

At about 9 p.m., she crawls into her bed and buries herself beneath a Strawberry Shortcake bedspread. She said she likes to get enough rest before another day of school, recess and wrestling. She’s supposed to read for a half hour each night, but she would rather sleep or listen to Justin’s Bieber’s “Baby.”

Erica’s life isn’t similar to the scenes on the Hannah Montana posters that hang in her room. A taste of her life would not be described as sweet like strawberry shortcake.

For as long as she can remember, Erica has been wrestling with what life has thrown her way.

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At tournaments, Erica is used to her coach shouting at her to remember her “stance” — to keep her head up and distribute her weight evenly between her feet.

A sloppy stance makes it easier for her opponent to take her down.

Being sloppy won’t help Erica with her wrestling. To do her best, she must eliminate the distractions that rush around her.

But Erica has distractions.

Two years ago, when she opened the door to her house in Delaware County, she was met by an infestation of swarming fleas. The dishwasher had mildew growing inside; fungus covered the bathroom and there were animal feces on the floor. The only remnants of food were crumbs lingering in the cabinets.

Erica tries not to think about that home anymore.

She lived there with her mother, Mary Jordan, until Jordan was put in jail on Aug. 22, 2009. She was charged with possession of illegal drugs and neglect.

Erica and her brother Matthew were immediately placed in foster care.

They were only at their first foster home for two days. Their foster parents had forgotten to give them their behavioral medication.

On the second try, they were placed with 80-year-old foster parents who would forget to feed them breakfast. Matthew started stealing food because he wanted to make sure he could take care of Erica if their foster parents couldn’t.

Erica didn’t grow up with much support or high self-esteem. She has learned to be resilient when it comes to taking care of herself.

*   *   *

When the referee blows the whistle at the start of a match, Erica already knows what move she’ll go for: the double leg takedown. It’s her most aggressive move.

She will wrap her arms around one of his legs and spring upward like a slingshot. When he tries to gain balance on his free leg, Erica will thrust her weight into his side. When they topple to the ground, Erica feels a rush and knows she’s coming out on top.

“That’s right, Erica. Take him down. Turn him on his back,” Chris yells. 

From the sideline, he is usually shouting advice. Even though he’s not her father, he cheers her on like the rest of the dads of the team. He’s always at Erica’s mat during a competition.

Next to him is usually Tiffany, who supports Erica in any activity she’s involved in.
They share a special bond as sisters. Tiffany is also a victim of their mother’s neglect. She was kicked out of the house when she was 14.

“I had always told myself I was going to go back and get Erica and Matthew. When
I got the voicemail that they were in foster care, I knew it was time,” she said. 

On Sept. 22, 2009, Tiffany and Chris went to the courtroom in Delaware County for Erica and Matthew’s placement hearing.

Despite the fact that Tiffany was 20 and Chris only 18, after proving that they had a big enough house and steady sources of income, they were given custody of Erica and Matthew.

Erica didn’t see her mom before they left for Bloomington. All she wanted to do in the car was close her eyes and fall asleep.

Erica was on her way to a safe, clean house in Bloomington. That was all she cared about.

*   *   *

When most people think of women’s wrestling, it’s usually messy — women wrestling in plastic pools full of mud. But women have been wrestling for sport since ancient times.

Archeologists have found Etruscan bronze statues from 330 B.C.E. depicting scenes of women wrestling with men. Erica’s wrestling is just keeping up with tradition. For her, wrestling is a bit of a family affair.

Erica remembers Chris talking about wrestling, a sport he practiced for nine years.

Curious, Erica said she wanted to give it a try.

Tiffany and Chris agreed wrestling would be a good way to build Erica’s confidence but warned her she would probably be the only girl on the team.

From October to May, Erica goes to practice twice a week and competes in tournaments on weekends.

When Erica started, her former coach, George Schermer, said he didn’t treat her any differently from the boys.

“When Erica first joined the team, for me it was just like any other wrestler,” George said. “For the new boys, I think some may have been a little surprised.”

George’s wife, Betty Schermer, is president of the Bloomington High School South Wrestling Club and has watched Erica develop as a wrestler during the past year. She said Erica’s tenacious personality and ability to strategize on the mat moves her one step ahead of her competition.

If Erica thinks the boys are going easy on her, she won’t take it. Sometimes, she’ll push the guy’s face down and call him a wuss.

“When I’m in practice, I can pull them down and, I don’t know ... smack ’em,” she said.

*   *   *

A slick, bronze medal hangs on a loose nail above Erica’s bed. She won the third-place medal at a tournament last year. She said she holds it from time to time to fuel her desire to keep winning.

She won the medal after she nearly broke three fingers, which, as she will proudly show, are still fully functioning.

Her competitor was a boy who was roughly the same height, weight and skill level.

From the start, Erica controlled the match with a series of double leg takedowns, but this boy wasn’t about to “go easy” on her because she was a girl.

The crowd of eight shouting Erica’s name soon grew to 20. The only girl at the meet was beating a guy. This they had to see.

But her muscles began to tense up. Her head felt heavy.

In a decisive moment, he went for the take down and pinned her to the floor. She tried to hold on, but when his weight sank onto her arm, squeezing her hand down until it hit the back of her fingers, she couldn’t stop the tears from flowing.

That day, she didn’t win the match. But it was a moment when she tried her best, when she kept pushing against her competitor for as long as she could. A moment when she realized that some challenges are bigger than her, and that

it’s okay to let go, as long as you get back up and keep trying.

So that’s what Erica does. She gets up and keeps on going. Whether she stumbles with her grades, moments when she has to talk to her mother on the phone — even though she doesn’t want to — or when she feels like she isn’t that “awesome girl” Tiffany always tells her she is.

Her deficit in her self-esteem has taken a toll. She has seen destructive relationships and heard name-calling from birth to 9 years old.

But she’s working on it. The other night at dinner, Erica sat at the table and wrote a letter to herself, telling herself why she is awesome. She came up with that on her own.

In her letter, she wrote that she’s an awesome wrestler, is part of an awesome family and has an awesome life. She keeps her letter in her backpack and pulls it out once in a while, reminding her that when she’s wrestling, she only has room to gain, not lose.