How a Lifelong Dream Shattered for Male Synchronized Swimmers
Imagine diving into a swimming pool and, in that fleeting moment before the water envelops you and you enter weightlessness, somehow halting yourself: your body rigid, legs jutting out of the water like a column of rock. Not fully in, not entirely out; half wet, half dry; suspended in an impossible balance between two states.
In the 1990s, a boy from New York named Bill May perfected this trick, inspired by a female synchronized swimmer named Patti Rischard. At 15, May executed the move flawlessly at the national junior championships for synchronized swimming and won. Over the decades, he became the greatest male synchronized swimmer of all time. Now 45, he boasts six World Championship medals, the most recent earned in Doha six months ago.
Before achieving this success, May faced a significant struggle to establish men’s place in synchronized swimming. “We fought everything,” he said. “We fought parents, coaches, and everyone who said men didn’t belong in the sport. We were booed, excluded from competitions, and faced petitions against us.” Despite presenting a broad smile and the graceful, lyrical movements of a ballet dancer, he was working tirelessly beneath the surface.
At one point, May stepped away from the sport for ten years, believing his talents would never gain international recognition. However, when Fina (now World Aquatics) voted to include male synchronized swimmers at the World Championships in 2014, he made a comeback and found himself competing against a new generation of men and boys he had inspired. One of them, Belgium’s Renaud Barral, recalled that when he began, “there was no established path. There was one role model: Bill May. There was no social media, no way to follow athletes; there were about three photos of Bill May on Google, and that was it.”
In October 2022, Fina, emphasizing a “commitment to gender equality” and aiming to “maximize the global appeal” of the sport, voted to allow male synchronized swimmers to compete in the Olympics. It seemed their long fight for acceptance might culminate in a fairytale ending. In February, CNN reported that May was “set for a beautiful [Olympic] debut” in Paris, noting that “few athletes will be more deserving of their place there.” NBC’s website still lists him as one of the “top 100 athletes to watch” at the Games. Yet, May will not compete in these Olympics, nor will any male synchronized swimmers.
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Officially, synchronized swimming in Paris is a mixed event. In practice, however, the barriers for male swimmers proved insurmountable. This is the story of how May and his fellow pioneers, just as they were poised to achieve their lifelong dream, found themselves in limbo: neither included nor excluded, caught in an impossible state of suspense between two worlds.
With its array of nose clips, waterproof makeup, glittery costumes, and clipboard-wielding judges, synchronized swimming—officially known as artistic swimming and often called "synchro"—may appear genteel and polished. However, the sport demands immense physical prowess, shaping it into a rigorous test of athleticism. Competitors must propel themselves out of the water without touching the pool's bottom, execute gymnastic twists and tumbles, possess the endurance of distance runners, and perform with the grace and emotive skill of dancers.
Frithjof Seidel, a German who transitioned from a successful springboard diving career to synchronized swimming, noted that the conditioning required for synchro far exceeds that of diving. May has also suggested that synchro ranks among the world’s most challenging sports.
Male synchronized swimmers often face prejudice. Barral recounts facing hostility and derogatory remarks at competitions, but his passion for the sport kept him resilient despite the negativity.
The inclusion of men in the World Championships marked a significant breakthrough. French swimmer Quentin Rakotomalala, who was inspired by his sister's involvement, saw this as an opportunity to claim a place in a sport once considered exclusive to women.
Yet, the dream of competing at the Olympics remained elusive for many years. May, whose aspiration to compete in synchro was ignited by the 1992 Olympics, felt the dream was within reach when he coached at the 2004 Games, although it took another 18 years for men’s events to be introduced.
The decision to include men in the Olympics seemed to close one of the last gender gaps, leaving rhythmic gymnastics and Greco-Roman wrestling as the only remaining single-sex Olympic sports. The inclusion of women in boxing and ski jumping were celebrated milestones that boosted interest and recognition in those sports.
However, integrating men into Olympic synchronized swimming faced resistance. Synchronization demands uniformity, and men inherently challenge this paradigm. May’s coaches have adapted routines to showcase both male and female strengths, but some within the sport remain resistant to this change.
Men’s participation was initially limited to mixed duets at the World Championships, with team events opening only recently. When men were admitted to the Olympics in 2022, they were restricted to team events, leaving them with only 18 months to adapt to a new format. Barral noted that only a few men, including Bill May and Giorgio Minisini, had a realistic chance of qualifying.
Despite high expectations, neither May nor Minisini made it to the Olympic teams. May, who was part of a 12-person squad, felt unfairly excluded from the final team selection, attributing his disappointment to what he sees as a failure to capitalize on a historic opportunity. USA Artistic Swimming acknowledged the difficulty in selecting the best athletes from a highly competitive group, but the disappointment among male swimmers was palpable.
Minisini, considered a promising future star of the sport, has retired. He expressed frustration at the sport's reluctance to fully embrace men and its continued exclusivity.