Despite female contributions, Iditarod leadership remains a boys club

The Iditarod has a problem with women.

This problem isn’t with the female mushers themselves, who are among the most capable and popular in the sport. In fact, the number of female competitors continues to rise, with about a third of this year’s field made up of women-led teams. And the problem isn’t with their competitiveness, either — 88.5 percent of female entrants finished the race this year, a figure that’s superior to the 81.4 percent completion rate for men.

The problem is among those who organize, police and benefit from “The Last Great Race on Earth,” a small cadre of men who run the event like a 1950s country club.

Of the Iditarod’s nine-member board of directors (five of whom have never finished the race themselves), none are women. The board also includes a “member emeritus” in the personage of late Joe Redington Sr., yet neglects to grant that honor to Redington’s co-founder, Wasilla’s Dorothy Page.

Among the organization’s paid staff members, the race director, executive director, finance director, chief veterinarian and race logistics coordinator are men. The only woman with a “director” title is Diane Johnson, the race’s education director. There are just two other female staff members listed on the race’s website, Joanne Potts and Starre Szelag. Their titles are assistant to the executive director and assistant to the race director.

Yep, you read that right. Of the 19 people listed by Iditarod as either board or staff members, just three are women — and two of them serve as assistants to men.

The ironic part of all this is that a great deal of the race’s modern-day popularity and success is the direct result of women’s contributions. In the mid-80s, a run of female dominance vaulted the event into the national consciousness. Libby Riddles became the first woman to win the event in 1985, a victory followed by three consecutive wins by the late, great Susan Butcher. By the time Butcher won her fourth title in 1990, women had claimed five of the first 18 race titles and the saying Alaska was where “men are men and women win the Iditarod” had entered into the state’s vernacular.

It’s no coincidence the race surged in popularity during this era, as the success of those like Riddles, Butcher and Willow’s DeeDee Jonrowe helped draw countless new fans to the sport. Sponsors started jumping onboard, too, hoping to cash in on the race’s sudden popularity outside Alaska.

But these contributions seem to have been overlooked when it comes to the race’s internal hierarchy, which is hopelessly dominated by men. This has led to a culture of disrespect toward women racers that’s slowly beginning to surface publicly. During this year’s race, a fan allegedly groped a female musher along the trail, an incident that race officials did their best to keep out of the public spotlight. However, former Nome mayor Leo Rasmussen has said publicly that the harassment was far from an isolated incident and indicative of a problem race officials have known about for years and done little to address. If the race tried to cover up an allegation of harassment against one of its female competitors on the trail, what else might they be hiding?

Those in charge of the Iditarod need to choose respect. The Wasilla-based race should clean house and do away with the “good old boy” structure that for too long has ignored the needs of its women athletes and fans.

The Iditarod tries to portray itself as an all-inclusive and gender neutral sport that’s friendly and welcoming to women. It’s time to start acting like it.