There is only one way to achieve true immortality in Welsh life. Forget the Gorsedd, the Queen’s Jubilee Birthday Honours List or even getting your signed picture on the wall of Giovanni’s in Cardiff. You only now you’ve really made it in Wales when you’re a Grogg.
So it feels like a moment in Welsh cultural history to see the first FEMALE player captured in clay by the Michelangelo of rugby Richard Hughes. His figurine of Jasmine “Jaz” Joyce was unveiled this week, complete with “braids of heaven”, silver boots and the fabulously determined game face which has already inspired a generation of young girls to pick up a rugby ball.
The speedster from St David’s - whose try-scoring exploits for Wales and the GB Sevens team have lit up stadia and social media alike - more than deserves her place in the Grogg pantheon of the game.
After winning a cap, a limited edition nine-inch replica is the ultimate seal of Welsh sporting success. In the days of private commissions, one player even managed to reverse this order. Or at least his Mam did. Neil Jenkins’ mother was so convinced of her 18-year-old Ponty boy’s potential she had a Grogg made of him with “Neily, Neily” inscribed on the base. It was the first of many. The rest was indeed history.
The Hughes dynasty of Pontypridd has helped create that history. Like his father John before him, Richard has carved out a very special place in rugby, contributing to its heritage as much as anyone who has donned the red jersey. But from the first ruggedly crafted Gareth Edwards to the recent Louis Rees-Zammit, until now that story has been sculpted in male terms only.
And until very recently the same thing could have been said for the story of Wales itself. Professor Deirdre Beddoe, the godmother of Welsh women’s history, wrote a seminal essay back in the 1980s stating Welsh women were “culturally invisible”.
When it came to celebrating their achievements in the same way male accomplishment was lauded, Welsh women were still largely unseen for the next three decades.
Wales’ desperate ignorance of notable women was twice illustrated by polls of the Welsh public. In 2004 we had 100 Welsh Heroes - a vote operated by Culturenet Cymru, a Welsh Assembly-funded body. At the time the results were announced, the organisers claimed it was the largest online poll ever conducted in Wales. In these early days of digital engagement more than 80,000 votes were cast.
So how many women made it into our 100 Welsh Heroes? NINE. And, by the time I'd stopped ranting that of those nine only Catherine Zeta Jones made it into the top 20, they did it again. In 2008 the National Assembly for Wales launched a vote asking the Welsh public to shortlist the top ten Welsh idols. Only one woman made the cut - Katherine Jenkins.
But why couldn’t they think of any other significant Welsh women? Granted it was a celebrity-tinged list but Hywel Dda was on there and it’s not as if he had ever been on telly. Voters were knowledgeable enough to vote for a chap whose celebrity rests on ruling Deheubarth, minting his own coinage and developing the Welsh legal system in the 10th Century, but they could only come up with one famous female from the past 2,000 years.
That same year, cyclist Nicole Cooke became both Olympic and World Champion yet still didn’t attract enough public votes to become 2008 Welsh Sports Personality of the Year – an unthinkable scenario for a male double gold medallist.
But could the Welsh people be blamed for ignoring female achievement with so little practice of celebrating it? After all, from Groggs to plaques, from street names to statues, the default subject has always been male success.
The feats of Welsh women were - and in many ways still are – invisible. Take a stroll around our capital city, however, and our male heritage is everywhere. Cardiff is populated by men on plinths including Aneurin Bevan, Ivor Novello, Lloyd George, Sir Gareth Edwards, Sir Tasker Watkins, Fred Keenor and John Batchelor.
But until the magnificent bronze sculpture of Wales’ first black head teacher Betty Campbell was unveiled last September there was not a single figurine of a female who actually lived - as opposed to a generic statue of womanhood - apart from Boudicca in City Hall.
It was a picture replicated across Wales. The zeal and graft of the campaign group Monumentual Welsh Women - and the community groups they have inspired – have done much to improve this state of affairs. Committed to their mission of Five Statues in Five Years, they are on track, with Elaine Morgan’s sculpture unveiled in Mountain Ash this year and monuments to Llangrannog’s Cranogwen; Newport’s Lady Rhondda and valleys heroine Elizabeth Andrews in the pipeline.
Helen Molyneux – founder of the Monumental Welsh Women group – has always been guided by the principle “you can’t be what you can’t see”. And as she says: “We certainly know that girls in particular will emulate what they see. Just look at the reaction they have to pictures in magazines, online - not always for the good. Advertisers call the vloggers and instagrammers that our daughters follow ‘influencers’ because they see it and they want to be it.
She adds: “But where are the everyday images of the women who have achieved so much in Wales over the centuries? We have statues of plenty of men - some of whom actually deserve them. But how can we normalise female success and achievement if we don’t get the same everyday recognition as our male counterparts?”
My heart sings when I see how small girls and indeed entire classes of children gather around the Betty Campbell monument and explore its every detail. And I got the same buzz this week scrolling through the social media reaction to Jaz Joyce’s Grogg.
There were former female players expressing their delight – with perhaps a wry smile thinking of how their own generation had missed out on such precious recognition. There were collectors eager to add this special item to their male-dominated display cabinets. But most of all there were parents saying how much their daughters were going to love this Grogg.
And that’s why I’m attaching such symbolic weight to a small clay figurine. The Jaz Joyce Grogg really does mark a moment in Welsh cultural history. She may be only nine inches tall but she’ll help generations of girls stand shoulder to shoulder with their male counterparts.
