A Letter to Men Coaching Our Daughters

Dear Coach,

Please stop yelling at my daughter. She is bright, capable, and confident. When she makes a mistake, talk to her. Teach her. Remind her that she is all of those things and that you trust her to learn with you. Because when you choose to yell, the lesson she learns is not the one you intend.

When you yell at her instead of talking, you teach her that it’s appropriate to yell when you are frustrated, when you don’t know how to handle your emotions, or when you don’t know how to teach.

Your presence can be a comfort or a threat. Choose wisely. These young women must know a man’s power is meant to be shared, not used against them.

As a man and a coach, you have much to teach my daughter. You can teach her to play the game with grace regardless of the outcome. You can teach her to use her body and channel her strength to perform incredible feats. You can build her up when she fails and celebrate her when she succeeds.

You can remind her that this game is all about life. And in life, if you screamed at my daughter, would you be teaching her leadership or aggression? Your behavior makes me defensive and protective. Parents like me pick up the pieces, helping our daughters rebuild confidence after your impact. But healing alone isn’t enough. She deserves to stand with agency over her life, free from the men who mistake control for power.

If you yell at my daughter, shame, embarrass, berate, or break her confidence, you have failed her. You have chosen to relieve your emotions at her expense, and that is not okay. As a man and a coach, you have a responsibility to her well-being. Not just her athletic potential, but her human potential.

Coach, I know you are human, fallible, and imperfect. But you need to do the work before you step on the court so you don’t project your trauma onto my daughter. As a young woman, she will face enough challenges in her life. You don’t need to be one of them.

She is doing her best. I see her pushing her body, embracing her teammates, and sacrificing time and time again. The tears you do see are the tip of the iceberg. The tears you don’t see are held by her friends and her family. Your words, your choices, and your behavior have an impact on these young women. It is a remarkable power and responsibility, and I am asking you to do better.

When you make a mistake—and you will—clean it up. Acknowledge it. Apologize. Show her that a real leader models accountability.

There is no game or sport worth my daughter’s well-being. Sport has always been a place for her to feel good about her body and learn about life. Please don’t take that away from her or teach her that sport is a place where she disappears, doesn’t matter, or can be degraded.

For my daughter and every girl on your team: do better.

Respectfully,
A concerned dad