The people’s game

By: Isabel Brush-Mindell

The author enjoying the beautiful game.

I watch the game from the sidelines, waiting to replace a set of tired legs. As my eyes follow the flow of play, taking note of the standout players on the opposing team, I catch myself looking from one opponent to the next. Man, man, man, man… I do the assessment twice and feel a surge of frustration. My buzz of excitement and adrenaline sours. A teammate calls for a sub and I jog back onto the field, waiting for the next pause to turn to the ref. “Hey, I just want to point out that the other team has not one woman. This is a co-ed soccer league.” 

This is yet another potentially pleasurable Sunday afternoon that has been stained with the fingerprints of institutional sexism. A co-ed rec league, meant to combine the best part of social and competitive soccer—for BOTH men and women—turns into another search for allies, another moment to educate. The moments of advocacy for gender justice are both frustrating and necessary, this advocacy is part of who I am, but my reasons for playing soccer are much more simple: I truly love it. It is a pure and demanding type of fun. It is one of those things that is unlike anything else; a unique state of mind and body. It is a battle of abilities: how does your speed, skill, strategy, and teamwork stack up against that of your opponent. Each time I step onto the field, I feel integral pieces of myself spilling out, unleashed in the thrill of the game. I live for the fight, the command of the field, the tactics, the teamwork. I am a quick player, intense with a ferocity that often surprises opponents and new teammates alike. As a defender, I love the game for the tactics. Through effective shifts in positioning, a good defender can force an attacker into certain decisions. It is about waiting and identifying the right moment to strike, about directing the game from the back of the field. I help create connections between players by telling them where to look, communicating my runs, and identifying and verbalizing the best opportunity to have a shot on goal. There is nothing more satisfying than being a part of a team that flows together—a recipe created through knowledge of each other’s playing styles, experience, and effective communication. The bonds and connections created between teammates are unparalleled. I have developed many of my most important and special relationships through the sport of soccer.

I also love sports because I find great satisfaction in pushing myself to my physical limits. My body is strong and quick and agile these days. In addition to soccer, I have been running, biking, climbing, and doing environmental conservation work for eight to nine hours a day, carrying a 50 pound pack. I feel capable and powerful in my body. This is a feeling to savor, as I recognize that as the years go by, your body, like a machine, begins to wear out — a wake-up call that I got as I have struggled to recover from a torn ankle ligament. Pushing your body should be done safely, and women, due to our physiology and institutional barriers are statistically more injury prone, we need to exercise smarter. This moment of athletic prime is fleeting, and the joy of being powerful and capable is something I intend to enjoy to its fullest. 

I view myself as a great soccer player, but every time I play, I am reminded that my opponents and teammates view me as a great soccer player who is a woman. I constantly feel men project their societally-constructed ideas about women and female athletes onto me. I have been apologized to by a player on the opposing team after he loudly celebrated a goal their team had scored. Can women not roar in celebration like men do? I have played pickup where I wasn’t passed the ball for over 70% of the game. Would a woman opt for a poor play over passing to a man? I have played against a pickup team who, upon removing their shirts to divide into teams of shirts and skins, was told I should “take my pants off” to even the playing field. Is there any space or time where women aren’t humiliated, sexualized, objectified? I have been fortunate enough to grow up with parents and brothers who deeply respected me and never treated me differently for being a girl. Over the years, I have cultivated a fierce sense of self-assurance. I demand the respect of everyone on the pitch. I know I deserve to be on that field, and I know other women deserve to be on that field. But, despite my luck being educated in such a positive and encouraging environment, I have also been chipped away at by the constant comments, loaded looks, and belittlement that often defines something that I love, something I should have the right to enjoy without barriers.

I have thought about and talked to my friends extensively about ways to bring the change that will allow women to walk onto a pickup or recreational sports pitch without their existence being questioned or dismissed. Individual resistance, like my public addressing of the lack of women on the other team, is a piece of the puzzle. However, to bring about a societal shift, the change we need is institutional, created through collective action. Institutions build the culture and norms that determine participants' behavior. Individuals need to collectively demand action from the institutions. In recent years, we have seen discussions of these inequities at the elite level. The occasional equity wins, like the U.S. women’s soccer team finally securing equal pay and benefits, are only spurred by a heavy push and ardent advocacy from team members themselves. And, this high-level change, despite being important, doesn’t trickle down to the millions of people who play sports for fun. Women athletes should not only be granted legitimacy if adorned by a gold medal or D1 title.

I think about my mother, Lisa Brush, who was an avid athlete and observed, in her undergraduate years, women come out to play ultimate frisbee, only to leave in frustration. When she moved to Ann Arbor, Michigan and started an ultimate summer league, she “built a level playing field” into the culture. They played on teams of seven people, requiring a minimum of three women per team at all times. These rules were emphasized to the captains (intentionally both men and women) and teams were disqualified if they didn’t play by the rules. They then went out and recruited women — posting signs in women’s locker rooms and bathrooms, talking to women at sports venues around town, and hosting a women’s only “learn ultimate” session before the start of the league. Their efforts worked. The Ann Arbor summer league had lots of women play and lots occupy leadership positions. Lisa heard from both men and women that they loved the league culture.

 The sports center I played at has let their culture slip. They lazily enforced their rules, and the self-created teams, in turn, have lazily attempted to recruit women. Unfortunately, I will not be around Ann Arbor for much longer, otherwise I would pitch that the center should hire me part-time to work on women’s recruiting. But, taking inspiration from my mother, I intend to speak with them and give them recommendations for ways to prioritize increasing the number of women registered for their teams, which starts with keeping yearly statistics on male and female registration. The fight for equity is a long, hard battle. I hope each one of you reflects on small ways you can make a difference in this space, whether that be leading an initiative, finding moments to call people out on their prejudice, or inviting your daughter, sister, partner, or friend out to play. Let us collectively create a future where we see more women on the sports field, carefree, and having an absolute blast.