Breaking Barriers

Every evening, five neighborhood boys congregate two houses away from our Montana House home stay. Through inquiry and observation, I have learned that they range in age from three to six years of age, and that the purpose of their nightly meetings is to play Hide and Seek, wrestling, and soccer.

Tonight was soccer night. As I turned onto our block and saw the pitch, I ran down the street to insert myself in their play. Though my every teammate and opponent stood at half my size or smaller, I could not hide my competitive spirit: I made them work hard, and we all loved it.

"You kick pretty good for a girl," one of my pint-sized adversaries informed me after the game. For a moment, I felt sad that sexism had been ingrained in him so young - but I am in another country, where girls in primary school don't play soccer, a decidedly male game. That is the reality here, so I accepted it ... and felt grateful that I'd beaten some highly skilled miniature people in their own front yard. I doubt they'll soon forget the day a "girl" showed them up.

This neighborhood is fun. Supposedly, it's one where colored people live - "colored" being a politically correct, racially categorical term in South Africa, to describe a mixed-race person - but other than Sara, Mona, and my own reflection, I've only seen black people around.

Whatever the demographic, we stick out when we walk home with our black housemates. We were told this was a potentially dangerous situation, but it does not feel that way to me. People just seem sort of curious as we pass - and, much like simultaneously being female and having soccer skills, walking around my neighborhood while white lets me surprise people who expect rigid roles.

But now that I've shattered the glass ceiling on women's soccer in this neighborhood, the stakes are raised. I must prepare to play a mean game of Hide and Seek tomorrow.