Not only will Caitlyn Jenner be keeping her gold medal, thankyouverymuch, but her name could be changed in the record books.
Jenner won the gold medal for the decathlon during the 1976 Montreal Olympics and was inducted into the U.S. Olympic Hall of Fame in 1986. She obviously won as Bruce (she didn’t announce her transition until April 2015 and revealed her new name earlier this week), but that doesn’t mean that’s how she has to be remembered in history.
“We admire Caitlyn Jenner’s courage and wish her all the best,” United States Olympic Committee spokesperson Patrick Sandusky tells Yahoo. “We would happily consider any athlete’s request to have his or her personal information updated in our records.”
Jenner has time to decide how she wants her name to be displayed. The U.S. Olympic Museum, which will be in Colorado Springs, Colorado, won’t open until 2018.
“This is like an AA meeting for book depressives, anxiety cases, ADHD, I consider myself the triple threat,” Margaret Stohl (Beautiful Creatures, Icons) joked at the first panel I attended at the first ever YallWest book festival. “In honor of my ADHD AA meeting–My name is Margaret Stohl. I am a bestselling author in 50 countries. I’ve had a book made into a movie. I’ve sold a lot of books, I’ve visited a million countries and I’m so depressed sometimes I cannot get out of bed in the morning. I am a New York Times bestselling trainwreck.”
With those words my heart dropped. I wasn’t expecting this. Sure, the description for the panel said, “Honest talk about painful struggles
with depression, anxiety, ADHD, life. Margaret Stohl, Libba Bray,
Rachel Cohn, Kami Garcia, Richelle Mead,
Lauren Oliver, Stephanie Perkins,” but I thought it was a joke. You know one of those, I get really crazy during deadlines, type things. Not, actual mental illness.
I moved to LA to write, to separate myself from the things that bring me down and to get away from my bipolar disorder and the bottle of lithium that sits unopened in my suitcase. I most certainly didn’t come to LA to sit and listen to my favorite authors discuss their own mental problems. But, I did. And, honestly, I think it is one of the best things that could have happened to me in this point of my journey.
Like many of you who read COBG, I want to write more than anything and sometimes, it’s hard. Sometimes, my mind goes to dark places and I stare at the screen while I berate myself. I tell myself that I am horrible, that no one cares what this black girl from the Bronx has to say. Sometimes, I can’t get out of bed, never mind write. Sometimes, I’m so overcome with so many thoughts and ideas, it’s difficult to pinpoint just one thing to focus on. What I learned on Saturday is that Richelle Mead can relate, Lauren Oliver is a survivor and that Stephanie Perkins almost didn’t write one of my favorite books of 2014, because the same demons that plague me, plague her.
I thought long and hard on how I would report on YallWest 2015. Long as in this post is days behind schedule and hard, because it truly is difficult to pinpoint what to write about a weekend long experience that I equate with booklr heaven. Should I write about the lines of people of all ages and genders waiting for a few moments with their favorite authors? Should I discuss tripping over suitcases and carts filled with books, because some book geeks wanted every single book they own to be signed? Would my followers be interested in reading about the friends I made or the fact that I hung out in the greenroom and ate lunch with Susan Ee (Angelfall) or that I stood next to Veronica Roth (Divergent series) for like five minutes without realizing it was her? Sure, I could brag and chat about all the things I did that you didn’t or I could share an experience that helped me. Share it is.
This is it. This is what he taught me. I was terrible to myself two years ago. I didn’t think I deserved to take up space. I was entrenched in a toxic friendship and had enormous pressure from school. I ate next to nothing I cried often for no reason. I felt alone and I hated myself.
And then he taught me this. He inspired me to get better. I learned to believe in myself. I wanted to be the best version of me so I could help others.
I will never stop being grateful for his force of goodness in the world.
