Home » Community » WNB: Hope on the Field

Andrea Gibson, the prophetic Olympian of the spoken word, once wrote, “Everyone knows what you’re against; show them what you’re for.” Their words have been pinned on my bedroom wall for years and are my personal litany for survival. The line comes near the end of their poem “Evolution,” which talks about managing and combating the horrors of the world by paying attention to and celebrating the good, the tiny, and the beautiful.

This, of course, brings me to my favorite Atlanta sanctuary: SOPFC’s Women’s and Non-Binary League on Wednesday nights.

Late in the fall of 2021, less than a year into my extracurricular love affair with SOPFC, and shortly after their post-pandemic re-opening, I had one of those life course–altering conversations at Maynard Jackson High School. The whistle blew one Thursday night to end my game with the Round Trip Brewing FC coed squad. A tall lanky guy with the startup charm of Adam Neumann and the corny welcome of Fred Rogers approached a group of us and chirped on about the brand-new, first-of-its-kind Women’s and Non-Binary league—the “WNB,” which was to start that winter—like some sort of he/him hero. While the intention was good, I knew a league of this kind was way overdue. “Y’all should have been doing this a long time ago,” I responded snarkily.

As a baby, I was a hyperactive fetus and a crib-escapist—a real steam engine, danger-to-myself type. I’ve been kicking a soccer ball as long as I’ve been walking, and I’ve been preaching the wisdom, power, and glory of soccer nearly as long.

Soccer lovers everywhere know this to be true: it’s the ultimate vehicle for All That is Good. It’s community, it’s confidence, it’s team things, it’s dedication, it’s learning about failure, it’s learning about winning gracefully, it’s constructive criticism, it’s thick skin, it’s commitment, it’s joy, it’s sorrow, it’s the agony of  defeat, it’s the glory of winning, it’s humility, it’s grief, it’s identity formation and destruction, it’s loss... soccer is everything! The good and bad of the game is never just about the soccer—it’s always kind of about the soccer, and it has always been something much bigger and more beautiful than my words can do justice.

At the same time, we can’t understand soccer without the politics of inclusion and exclusion, the fight to play, and the societal microcosmic question of who is allowed to enjoy the game and who isn’t. In a country at war with women’s bodies—constantly questioning trans and gender non-conforming folks’ right to exist, and obsessed with the policing, objectification, and degradation of bodies deemed less important—having a safe and welcoming space to play where folks can show up exactly as they are, without shame and without hiding, is not only a glimpse of hope, joy, and revolution, it is absolutely necessary for survival.

Growing up, I got to know soccer in every one of its masks: the commodification of the teenage girl for the elusive college scholarship, the political monopoly game that was youth club soccer, the crime of grown men preying on kids and calling it coaching, the poorly-funded and brief women’s professional league (WUSA), the even more brief and local Atlanta Beat, and every short-lived iteration of an adult women’s league given no support for success. That is all to say, I’d seen this thing before, and I’d seen it fail in the same way so many systems built for non-men fail. The idea is good, the intention is well-meaning, but it usually goes the same way: throw it out there, deprive it of resources, relegate it to the worst fields, spend no energy on organization or recruitment, then throw it to the soccer gods and hope for the best. Nothing lasts without commitment and investment.

Needless to say, I was suspicious of this tall man in the fall of 2021, but I readily jumped at the opportunity to build a team of my own: Brandi Chastain’s Sports Bra FC, aka “The Bras.” I missed being a captain, and I missed that human fabric feeling of being on a team—like really being on a team.

Not long after that, the first-of-its-kind WNB League began in January 2022. And it quickly became this wonderful break in time and space—a weeknight oasis led by a mission of inclusion. Here, still, every Wednesday night, the politics of play and of welcome reign supreme.

At WNB, we get to play soccer on a team with our friends and make new ones. We get to run around, sweat, and be our silliest soccer selves. For a lot of us, myself included, playing WNB has healed our relationship with soccer and, honestly, with ourselves and our identity as soccer players. It is not without conflict—soccer never is—but it is conflict with goodness at its core. Everyone belongs, and everyone is welcome as they are.

Now, nearly four years after that fateful conversation with the tall, suspicious man who turned out to be SOPFC co-founder Chris Wedge, I’m proud to still be a team captain in the WNB League (go Bras!), and SOPFC’s Operations Manager. SOPFC struck gold with WNB. Since the beginning, they—we—have invested time, energy, and money into this great thing. I am grateful the club has paid attention to the snowball of the women’s sports boom, which feels in many ways like the only light at the end of a dark tunnel. I am proud to work for and with folks who don’t just give lip service to inclusion, but who actually try to do the right thing week after week.

It regularly feels like hopelessness and cynicism are the easiest ways out. But as athletes, we know the power of a little hard work and elbow grease. The work that is WNB—the Wednesday culture, the grind, and the glory—gives me something green and growing to look forward to each week. To invoke Paul Cuadros, it’s a little something like home, or hope, on the field.

View more story photos on our Instagram post.

Want to join WNB? Find us on Wednesday nights wherever you get your WNB, or sign up as a Free Agent. Better yet, go ahead and shoot us a DM on Instagram @sonsofpitchesfc or @bcsbfc.