This week marked my fifth week in Spain. I have shed very few tears here and only on two occasions.
One, after my awful first day of school and only then it was just a few tears rolling down my face on the metro. The other occasion happened this morning when I woke up.
I was so frustrated about soccer and the sexism that occurs a few hot tears escaped. I am so sick of people telling me girls don’t play soccer. Soccer is a man’s sport. I am sick of the inequality. Sick of the sexism. Sick of playing on dirt. Sick of the street boys not wanting a girl on their team when its obvious I am better than them. Sick of the boys teams having 20 times more players. Sick of the boys teams having the good practice times. Sick of it. No, fucking fed up. (Sorry mom for the language. But I'm making a point).
I don’t understand how Spain can be so advanced liberally with things like gay marriage and then so unfair and unjust to half their population. I don’t know what to do but these feelings have left an anxious knot in the pit of my stomach and I can’t shake it.
This morning I went to the park to go juggle some more. I want to learn more moves. It has officially become a goal of mine. I want to become better so I can show them. So it will be so blatant that they have to admit it. Girls can play soccer.