The Discrimination
“So how did it go, honey?” Lebo’s mother asked later on, during dinner.
“At the practice? It was great. Definitely better than I had expected.”
“You are practising again tomorrow?”
“Yes, I am. Even though they only … kind of … accepted me.”
“What do you mean ‘kind of accepted’ you?” her father asked.
“Because I’m a girl, they think I can’t play. They think they are going to break me.”
“Why would they think that?” Her father looked at her with confusion.
“Pa, you know how boys are.”
“Lebo!” he exclaimed in realisation. “You are playing with boys!? Of course they are going to break you. What do you think?”
“But, Pa, I also want to play. Here girls don’t play soccer, so what choice do I have? At least in Germiston they did, unlike here.”
Her father fell quiet for a second.
“How come girls don’t have their own soccer division,” he asked, sincerely.
“I don’t know.”
“Then that’s wrong. That’s actually discrimination.”
“Yes, honey. It is. Each and every sport must be divided into two. One division for for boys and one for girls.”
“So what choice do I have?” she asked, but deep down she knew what she had to do.
“Challenge them. Fight this discrimination. If they don’t want to make another division for girls, then it is only fair they let you play with boys.”
“Papa, what’s disclination? I want disclination!” Masesi shouted joyfully, and all those around the table laughed.
Yes, I have to challenge them. One way or another I will play. Maybe I arrived in this place for a reason, Lebo said to herself.
The next day at the practice, Lebo approached T-Touch while they were warming up. “Hey.”
“Exe. You ready for today?” he asked, his voice filled with excitement.
“Ready for what?” Lebo was confused, wondering what was special about today.
“It’s ball work. Unlike yesterday, today we won’t be training excessively with hard exercises for fitness. We will be working on our ball strategies, counter attacks, and the like. It will be fun.”
Lebo concurred. “Yeah, yho! Phela yesterday Coach killed us with those hard exercises. My muscles hurt the whole night; even today.”
“Ha ha! We all share the pain.”
She decided to get right into it. “Thabo, why is it that there is no division for girls in Sonwabo?”
T-Touch showed no interest as he bent down to touch his toes, “I don’t know. Not all girls can play soccer, I guess.” He stood up straight. “Why do you ask?”
“Because I know I don’t have any future here; I can’t play with boys forever. In order for me to continue playing, I should be in a girl’s division where I would actually have a future. I am serious about my soccer.”
T-Touch looked at her with his hands on his hips. “So you want to challenge the Sonwabo Football Association to make another division?”
“Yeah.” She sounded unsure.
“Ah, good luck,” someone said, mockingly, behind Lebo’s back. It was Small. When they both looked at him, he said, “Hey, don’t take me for a bad guy. They once tried and failed, okay?”
“Who once tried what, Small?” T-Touch asked in annoyance.
“Mbali. Don’t you remember her? She used to play … from Section D?” When T-Touch shrugged, Small went on. “Well, Mbali tried to challenge the Sonwabo Football Association to make another division. They asked her to simply collect enough signatures from everyone around the township to see if they would want to see girls in their own division. Can you guess how many she managed to collect? Yep, nada. Zilch. Zero.” He laughed.
Lebo looked like she just got slapped in the face. She stood there, frozen like a statue.
***
Tell us: Do you think women’s soccer in South Africa is making progress? Or is it still being blocked by attitudes like this?