Under the Lights

When I agreed to play football with the Turkish students this weekend, I didn't really know what I was getting myself into. I was ready for something intense - even our casual games of ultimate frisbee at the dig house usually leave me drenched in sweat - but I was still surprised when a bus pulled up to our front steps and Bedri told me to get on. "Players first."

Everyone crammed in and soon the music was pumping while the Turkish students shouted chants at each other. Clara and I sat in the front, and I felt the nerves start to kick in. We were the only two American women playing, and I would be against Clara on a team of all Turkish men. Asserting dominance has been a big theme of my time in Turkey so far, and this game is no exception. While it comes from a place of tradition rather than malicious sexism, the gender roles are fairly rigid here. I have to make a point of hauling my own buckets and taking the wheelbarrow in order to show the Turkish workmen that I'm not incapable of doing things for myself. I can't even count the number of times people will ask John a question without even thinking that Clara, Leah, or I would be equally qualified to answer. Just like on site, this was an opportunity to prove myself as a capable entity, as part of the team.

We pulled up to the soccer club, and the flurry of pre-game activity began. The Turkish guys rushed inside to get cleats, our other American and Turkish friends grabbed spots on the bleachers, and I took some practice shots with John on goal, hoping that the muscle memory of my Laurelhurst Soccer Club days would kick in. Before kick-off I said a silent prayer to the goddesses of the US Women's World Cup team: Megan Rapinoe, Alex Morgan, Tobin Heath, be with me tonight!

I spent the first fifteen minutes of the game muttering swears under my breath. I found my place on the left wing but despite being wide open the majority of the time, my teammates refused to pass. I basically just ran wind sprints up and down the sideline until I saw Ferhat dribbling fast towards our goal and took off after him. We were playing on a turf field surrounded by a fence so there were no sideline outs, giving me the opportunity to shove my shoulder in and grapple for the ball against the fence. I successfully stole the ball and crossed it to Ismael in the box who tapped it in, scoring us our first goal of the night. As I jogged back to midfield, I got a nod and a congratulatory, "Hermes," from Çelal, our central defender.

As the game progressed I noticed how genuinely surprised the men were to see a woman playing so aggressively. Berkay apologized to me when I slammed into him, and I earned numerous confused looks from Ferhat to which I responded with a shrug and a smile. Women here are not expected to be dominant or physical on or off the sports field, and only one Turkish woman, Serap, played at all.

As I forced my way into getting more contact with the ball, my team slowly started seeing me on the field and our captain, Hassan, actually asked my name. I still had the ball taken from me more than a few times, but now I was getting high fives after shots on goal and called out by other teammates in order to receive a pass.

We lost the game by one point, but it didn't matter; I still got hand shakes and bro hugs from my opponents and team mates, accompanied by nods of newfound respect. Ferhat shook his head incredulously as he slapped my shoulder in congratulations and tossed his arm around me. The players sat down to shove watermelon into our mouths, the red juice dripping down our chins without a second thought.

Working within a patriarchal system is challenging back home, but it takes a different kind of combat when that system is part of a culture that isn't your own. It's a delicate balance between stepping back from myself and taking a place as a guest in this culture as well as subtly pushing back in order to prove that I'm just as capable as any of my male peers. I'm finding that the best method is to just do things without fear. Whether it's pushing a wheelbarrow, chopping down a stump with the big pick, or refusing to be shut down on the soccer field, none of those actions have to be translated. Simply put: I am just as strong, just as daring, and just as tough as anyone here.

While the validation I got from my male teammates was rewarding, what filled me with absolute joy was seeing the excitement of the female Turkish students when Clara, Serap, and I stepped off the field. They had been cheering our names throughout the game, and I think every single one of them gave me a high five. Exhibiting feminism through action often has the side effect of empowering others. Case in point? Emine asked me through her Google Translate app to play football with her this evening. Hopefully this means that I'll have another teammate for next weekend.

-GMH

Me and Ferhat.

Hell yeah we're strong.

Top: Ismael, Senan, Ferhat, Bedri, John, Berkay. Bottom: Çelal, Orbay, Hassan, Me, Ferhat, Clara, Serap, Omus.

Some sweaty post-game Americans.