She just watched.
Nestory Irankunda has taken the A-League Men by storm – but there are barely a handful of African-Australian players in the A-League Women.Credit: Getty
“I’ve always been the girl that shows up to every training session with my brothers,” she said. “There’s a park near our house, all the boys in the community would go play, and I would just go with my brothers, and sit there to watch them, and then if the ball goes over the fence or something, I’ll quickly run and go get it.”
Kabia loves the game, too, but never really got the chance to play it herself. Since 2014, she’s been helping run the Burkina Faso team at the African Cup NSW, an annual tournament showcasing the incredible talent within African-Australian communities which has become a highlight of the local football calendar. But it’s pretty much a ‘boys only’ affair – and even in the last couple of years, when a pan-African women’s side has been assembled for exhibition matches, they’ve been scheduled so early in the day that there’s never much of a crowd.
She puts this all down to outdated cultural stereotypes and gender roles – not just for fathers, but mothers too, for whom the idea of football as a hobby for their daughters, let alone as a possible career, would never enter their imaginations.
“We were told, ‘Nup. You’re a cheerleader.’ I was taught I was a cheerleader,” Kabia said. “Being African, you are told that … when you’re young to when you turn 18, your focus is school. You graduate high school, it’s uni. You finish uni, you’re going straight to marriage. Marriage is the next step to being a woman.
“Imagine a 23-year-old coming to your parents and saying, ‘Hey, Mum and Dad, I want to go play for a state-league team.’ They will look at you and laugh, and they will tell you no. And you can’t argue because it’s just in our blood – we can’t argue with our parents. We have no choices.”
Princess Ibini is one of only two Matildas in history with African heritage.Credit: Getty
She remembers once pointing out Princess Ibini to her grandmother. “I said to her, ‘She’s killing it, she’s amazing. Maybe one day I’ll be like that.’ And then my grandma said, ‘Oh, it’s just luck.’ But it’s not luck,” Kabia said. “It’s the same energy, the same participation and the same commitment and dedication that one puts in is what they get out.”
Perspectives, thankfully, are changing. The global explosion of popularity in women’s football is playing a part in that, as did last year’s Women’s World Cup and the strong performances of nations like Nigeria, Jamaica, Morocco and South Africa, who all reached the round of 16.
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The inaugural Kama Umoja Women’s Cup, to be played at the Western Sydney Wanderers’ headquarters from October 25 to November 9, will hopefully play a key role, too.
Launched on Thursday, it will involve eight teams from around the country, made up of women and girls from the African diaspora and CALD (cultural and linguistically diverse) communities. If it’s anything like the African Cups for men, the talent on display will be out of control. It may even help unearth a future Matilda.
Indeed, Kabia can’t see any reason why the wave of African talent in the men’s game can’t soon be replicated in women’s football – apart from what she describes as the ingrained “ignorance” that is blinding some people’s vision within her community.
“There’s so many hidden gems,” she said. “We’re also trying to bring men to come in and just support us and be like, ‘Hey, we’re beyond just being your wives. We’re beyond just being your daughters in the household, cooking for you when you finish work. We also have talent.’ Hopefully with the launch of this competition, we are able to get all those girls come out of their shell.”
