When the Dharavi girls’ football team took to the field for
their daily practice earlier this week, two of the players hauled a giant bag
in between them. The other girls sprinted ahead to the designated practice
area, some bouncing up and down with excitement once they reached their
destination. I met them there, curious about the reason for the extra
enthusiasm today.
It was Mahalaxmi who answered my question before I had asked it. Grinning broadly, she nodded to the large bag she was helping to carry: “SHOES!”
The next forty minutes or so were spent sorting out sizes,
passing out knee-length socks, undoing and redoing laces, and trying to
convince the youngest girls that yes, cleated shoes are supposed to feel tight around their feet. The older girls were
unanimously thrilled with the acquisition of true footballers’ gear, and
immediately began dribbling, kicking, and passing with new fervor. The younger
ones, accustomed to playing barefoot, were a more skeptical—they squirmed and
made faces upon first feeling the sensation of athletic shoes. The practice
turned out to be more of an introduction to football shoes than a real
practice, but the girls left the field with the same joyful, chaotic energy
with which they had arrived.
I’ve been attending the Dharavi girls’ practices about five
times a week since I arrived in Mumbai on June 20th. And in fact, these girls
are the very reason I came to Mumbai. I am a recent graduate of Hendrix College
(Arkansas, USA), and I am conducting an independent project on the use of team
sports to empower girls. My project is being funded by a grant called the
Walker Odyssey Fellowship. Over the next six months, I will be meeting and
volunteering with different organizations that specifically use sport as a
foundation for girls’ development throughout India and Cambodia.
When I first encountered the Dharavi team, it was difficult
to see beyond the obvious challenges that the group faces. The players are
bold, curious, and occasionally unruly girls (plus two boys) ranging from ages
7 to 19. The Yuwa coaches, who have come all the way from their rural homes in
Jharkhand to help found the Dharavi team, do a truly admirable job of leading
exercises and drills every single day—but it can be challenging to channel the
girls’ energy into a structured practice. Additionally, the monsoon has created
an extra obstacle by turning their playing field into a wide expanse of muddy
puddles. There’s not much open space, and practice matches are usually cramped.
As I got to know the girls, however, I’ve come to understand
how significant this team really is for each of them. Before the team existed,
the girls would stay in their houses (which usually consist of either one or
two rooms) after school and help their mothers with the chores or watch television.
They didn’t go out, many of them didn’t have a group of friends, and their
parents didn’t like them to wander around the neighborhood for fear of them
straying too far. The Dharavi team has created a safe space for these girls. It
is an outlet in which they can run, play, have fun with their friends, and act
as leaders during drills or stretches. It is something consistent that they can
look forward to every day.
It is bittersweet for me to say goodbye to the team, but I’m
grateful that I’ve had this opportunity to befriend such a welcoming and
spirited group of kids. Each one of them is testament to the potential of sport
to enrich and empower lives. I’m happy, too, that I was here to see the
distribution of the shoes—I know that they’ll be put to good use, and I hope
that the players’ mothers are forgiving of the mud that’s certain to cling to
this new footwear.
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