Emma Jaber | Staff Writer

When I was eleven, I joined my first football team. I was the only girl among twelve sixth grade boys, and the first thing most of them said was “I don’t want to have the girl on my team.” They saw me as a burden, a weight dragging the team down. Although I was able to shake the narrative they projected onto me by showcasing my ability and skill, their words clung to me like glue. This is the harsh reality for most female athletes today. They are forced to constantly fight and adjust to the stereotypes and standards they are defined by, because being a female athlete means constantly having to prove yourself. And for those living in war-torn countries, that battle doesn’t end when they are off the field. Training, competing, and growing as a player all become even harder when bombs echo in the background, airstrikes flash through windows, sirens add a heavy undertone to practice, and especially when survival itself becomes a daily struggle.

As captain of the AUB women’s football varsity team, Fadia Abou Saleh faces the ongoing challenge of scheduling games and securing field time. At AUB, she struggles to find available slots that aren’t already occupied by the men’s team. Outside the university, she must navigate an unspoken barrier: avoiding phone calls or direct messages when reserving a field, out of fear that revealing she’s a woman might lead to her request being denied. Ornella Frechero, a dedicated member of the AUB women’s football team with nearly seven years of experience, recounted a striking moment that underscored the stark disparity between men’s and women’s sports. On one occasion, the women’s team played a crucial match under the scorching sun, drenched in sweat, struggling to catch their breath, yet were met with silence. There were no spectators, no fanfare, no acknowledgement of their effort. Later that same day, as the sun set and a cool breeze replaced the stifling heat, the men’s team took to the field. Their game was a spectacle: cheerleaders on the sidelines, a commentator narrating every play, music blasting from loudspeakers, and even the president of AUB in attendance. This stark contrast reveals the persistent undervaluing of female athletes. Despite equal dedication, skill, and passion, their achievements are met with indifference, while their male counterparts are celebrated.

Naya Sonji, a member of the AUB women’s varsity football team, has been playing football since she was thirteen. She has competed with multiple clubs in both Kuwait and Lebanon and was the captain of her school team. Fadia Abou Saleh, the captain of AUB’s women’s varsity football team, started playing at the age of ten and currently trains with a club outside AUB alongside national team players, all while leading her university team with passion and determination. Thalia Zorkot, another key player, spent five years competing with a top club in Lebanon, three years with AUB, and a year with her school team. And yet, despite their talent and experience, these athletes still face the frustration of not being taken seriously. If skill, talent, and dedication are not enough to recognize a female athlete as equal to her male counterpart, then we must ask: are we judging women by their ability, or simply by their sex?

Proving themselves on the field wasn’t their only challenge. Throughout the war, these athletes had to discover ways to be able to continue to train, stay motivated, and push forward despite the instability around them. On the AUB women’s varsity football team, one question was asked almost daily: “Is everyone okay?” Rather than getting together and practicing, teammates were constantly messaging each other in the group chat, checking in to make sure everyone was safe. Naya was training with both a club in Beirut (Beirut Football Academy) and with the AUB women’s football team but left soon after the war began. She highlighted her struggle: “Even though I was still able to continue training in Kuwait, I felt like I missed out on creating many memories, and didn’t get to build as close a relationship with my teammates before the season started since we had such a short time together.” Similarly, forced to leave her home for safety, Fadia found herself unable to train with the teammates and community she once relied on. In an effort to stay connected to the game, she turned to her cousins, hoping to join their matches, but as the only girl, she was met with exclusion, left on the sidelines while they played. Amid the upheaval of constantly traveling between her village and temporary refuge, she faced not only the instability of war but also the frustration of being kept away from the sport she loved.

This is the reality of female athletes everywhere and it is time we stop treating women’s sports as secondary and start providing female athletes the respect, resources, and recognition they deserve. For the athletes who endured war, the challenges went beyond discrimination, and they had to fight just to keep playing at all. However, despite the odds, they continue to prove that their skill and determination are undeniable. If their talent, dedication, and resilience are still not enough to earn them the respect they deserve, then we must ask ourselves: what more will it take?