It's impossible for me to talk about football and not get emotional. Especially when I have just finished travelling across England to attend football matches. I witnessed women excel in a sport we've always been told is only fit for men.
Growing up, I spent all my evenings playing football with my brother. It was the only time when it did not matter what your social status or gender was. We played with anyone who wanted to join - drivers, cleaners, guards, the neighbours, you name it.
These were the men who made me fall in love with the beautiful game. I was the only girl who would play, and I loved every second of it. Reality became much harsher: as I began to grow older, more people complained to Ma that it was odd to see a young girl play sports with the boys.
Ma never paid attention to those people and for that, I am eternally grateful. My father always encouraged me to play any sport I wanted to. Imagine if they had stopped me. Imagine if they did not support my dreams and my hobbies, I would not get to experience the joy and sorrow that football has given me. I would have missed out on a chance to witness history being made, be among record crowds, and, most importantly, I wouldn't have grown up to be me.
My earliest memory of football was playing with a tennis ball after I watched the Germany vs Brazil World Cup match in 2002. The buzz around the stadium gripped me. The noise rang through my ear and the football captivated me. It was then that I realised that this would be my dream, to one day be a professional footballer.
Through the years, I had the chance to represent my school. We went a year unbeaten, and I was the proudest captain. We then lost a home tournament on penalties. That broke me as a young girl, but it still spurred us on to stay unbeaten for two whole years. If you had met me in high school, you'd have known that I was very much in the mindset that I would become a footballer. But like I said, reality is harsh, and sometimes when it hits you, it changes your perspective.
At the age of 16, I got invited to play semi-professional football at the national level. I packed my bags to the tee. White socks, headbands that matched the club's jersey, a brand-new pair of Adidas Predators I borrowed from my guy friend, had my father buy me a new sports bag – I was prepared. As I was about to leave for my first training session, Ma sat me down.
“Ma, I hope you know what you are getting into. It will not be glittery or flashy. In fact, it will change your views. The life of a footballer in Bangladesh is not what you see on television. It's a lot harder.”
I left the house brushing her advice off and not taking much heed, but when I arrived at the training ground, I realised what she meant. None of the players had decent boots. Some of them were makeshifts. Some did not even have shin guards, and here I was with brand new adidas ones.
