Mothers Rediscover Athletic Identities Through Mommy and Me Tennis Classes

Ruby Griffin shines as the most experienced tennis player in her family. Having taken lessons for much of her life, Ruby, now five, confidently demonstrates the correct forehand technique to her mother, Castro, at the Burbank Tennis Center. She stands as instructed, holding the racket like a surfer balancing on a board. ‘She’s the tennis girly,’ says Castro, 42, a resident of Toluca Lake. ‘I’m stepping back while she takes the lead.’

The Mommy and Me tennis class offers a unique chance for caregivers to engage in the sport alongside their children, sparking personal comeback stories. Castro previously pursued dancing and cheerleading until her daughter’s birth shifted her focus entirely to motherhood. Reclaiming her sense of self took time. During warm-up drills, Castro reflects on her journey back to the tennis court. ‘Here I am,’ she says while watching the court, ‘[taking] baby steps.’

In this class, attire ranges from Hello Kitty shirts to tiny Dodgers hats, capturing the fun fashion of young tennis players. Some aged as young as three can barely see over the net. When Coach Chessa Mehlman invites a child to demonstrate his forehand, he playfully sits on the racket. While not Wimbledon level, the class fosters love for the sport among mothers aiming to regain their athletic identities.

This year’s Wimbledon women’s singles draw included mothers like Serena Williams, Naomi Osaka, Elina Svitolina, Taylor Townsend, Belinda Bencic, and Tatjana Maria. Williams emphasized how motherhood motivated her return to Wimbledon in a personal essay. ‘Returning would be about sharing moments with my kids,’ she expressed.

Williams showed powerful serves in her first-round loss, cheered by daughters Olympia and Adira Ohanian. Though cut short by a knee injury, the 44-year-old hints at another potential comeback.

For many mothers, reclaiming athletic life faces obstacles beyond desire: childcare, time, finances, and bodily recovery factor into considerations. Finding a space to embrace being rusty is crucial. Kimberly Foon, 49, a Pasadena resident, returns to tennis in this class after a lengthy hiatus due to family and career demands. Participating with her son Ian, four, she delights in playing with colorful water balloons, combating the summer heat.

Impact from the balloons sparks joy as they burst upon contact, soaking mother and child alike. Their laughter fills the air as they await another turn. Lowering the barrier to entry is key—while Los Angeles offers numerous parent-child classes, Mehlman’s tennis class centers on mothers joining the game. Motivated by observing mothers sidelined during children’s lessons, Mehlman, a former Ithaca College athlete, simplifies access. She envisions the Burbank Mommy and Me class becoming a monthly staple.

‘Mothers are often more engaged than their kids,’ notes Mehlman. Caretakers can RSVP via Instagram when monthly schedules are posted. At last week’s class, high-fives and hairstyle tips are shared alongside tennis moments. Conversations about journeying from dance classes to kid-friendly eateries abound. Some mothers are tennis novices, others resume after a break like Foon. All echo the sentiment: moving and wielding a racket feels refreshing.

Though casual, the class addresses significant needs. Motherhood often shifts societal expectations, says Victoria L. Jackson, a sports historian and co-director of Arizona State University’s Great Game Lab. Historically, athletes view motherhood as an expiration date for athletic pursuits. Williams marked this challenge by announcing her evolution away from tennis to grow her family, spotlighting the disparities male athletes rarely face.

Williams framed this tension in 2022. Yet questions about mothers’ roles in sports trace back to the 1928 Amsterdam Olympics. The allowance of women in track was followed by false reports post-800-meter race, delaying this event’s inclusion until 1960, when Wilma Rudolph won three gold medals.

To Jackson, Mommy and Me tennis classes embody historical efforts by women carving their path into sports, awaiting formal acceptance. Local solutions often drive change, solving immediate challenges over time. Alysia Montaño, a seven-time national champion and Olympic bronze medalist in the 800-meter race, boldly confronts cultural ideas discounting motherhood in sport. She raced pregnant twice, challenging maternal undervaluation.

In 2019, Montaño confronted sponsor and sports cultures treating motherhood as a liability, not part of professional journeys. She founded For All Mothers+, empowering mothers with resources and childcare grants. On July 20, the next grant recipients will receive $2,000 for childcare, free training gear, and resources. 75 mothers had benefited from these grants or opportunities to be whole.

Research reveals women commonly bear childcare responsibilities sustaining family life. For a mother to engage in training and competition, assistance with childcare is necessary—acknowledging the ‘motherhood penalty’, the cost of perceiving mothers as less capable. This penalty influences workforce pay and promotion, extending to sport settings.

Stephanie Johannesmeyer, an Antelope Valley mother, manages balancing motherhood, social services, running clubs, and races, amid chronic illness challenges. Her husband’s government contracting role contributes to childcare importance. She competed in the Disney World Marathon, aided by a childcare grant from For All Mothers+.

Criticism over her choice to prioritize running—voiced online and by loved ones—drives early responses from Johannesmeyer, 35. Despite battling postural orthostatic tachycardia syndrome, she perseveres, crossing finish lines with Athena cheering. ‘Maintaining self and identity makes me a better mother,’ she affirms.

At the tennis class, similar sentiments resonate among mothers. Nicole LeVine records her son Roman, seven, enjoying swinging at a water balloon. Roman’s private tennis lessons might reveal his sport identity. LeVine strives to uncover her own athletic identity amid motherhood.

Weekly tennis games with a group strengthen LeVine’s engagement. Recently called an athlete by a tennis coach, reflecting adjustment from theater kid to sport enthusiast, she humorously accepts this new title.