One of things I’ve done a lot recently is transcribe
interviews and focus groups from some of Grassroot Soccer’s South African sites
concerning the all-girls SKILLZ Street program.
Considering those recordings alongside some conversations and focus
groups of my own, I began to think more critically about the role of soccer in Grassroot
Soccer’s model.
Soccer is truly at the core of Grassroot Soccer: it’s in the
name of the organization, after all.
Countless organizations out there are doing similar, stellar work in
terms of youth development and HIV awareness. Though there are many initiatives that
differentiate us from the pack, using soccer is what makes our model most
unique. The sport-for-development sphere that we occupy is our niche, and
integrating the cultural infatuation with soccer and the need for sexual health
education is what makes Grassroot Soccer novel.
In the past few months, there has been an organization-wide
structural focus on impact over output, meaning that we want to ensure
effectiveness of our programs amongst our participants instead of churning them
out like butter. In doing this, we
wanted to bring soccer back to the forefront of our programs. The power of soccer to educate young people
was the impetus for starting the organization, so it should be our priority to
keep it that way.
This begs me to question: is soccer truly effective at communicating our message?
A quick and dirty answer to this question is yes. Grassroot Soccer is a leader in ongoing
research on sport-for-development, and study after study shows that youth are
gaining knowledge and confidence throughout our entire spectrum of
specially-designed curricula. I could
also state the obvious that soccer is an effective hook for engaging young
people. Youth in South Africa, and in much of the world, are in love with the
game. Soccer’s biggest championship
isn’t called the World Cup for nothing.
If soccer weren’t an international powerhouse, our programming wouldn’t
be thriving in communities across the globe thanks to implementing partners the
Peace Corps, effectively bringing our curriculums to dozens of countries in 5
continents. Soccer works. But to what extent does soccer work? This question came up frequently in many of
the discussions I’ve had about our programs.
Many images of the developing world use this idea of soccer as a uniting force, as a tool for communication, as a universal language. I don’t refute that capability at all. In many of South Africa’s townships, you could see groups of kids kicking around a makeshift ball made of tied up plastic bags. If that isn’t dedication to the sport, I don’t know what is.
Many images of the developing world use this idea of soccer as a uniting force, as a tool for communication, as a universal language. I don’t refute that capability at all. In many of South Africa’s townships, you could see groups of kids kicking around a makeshift ball made of tied up plastic bags. If that isn’t dedication to the sport, I don’t know what is.
I recently finished an inspiring book, Outcasts United,
an account of female Iranian immigrant Luma Mufleh starting a refugee soccer
club in the sleepy Southern resettlement town of Clarkston, Georgia. Soccer became a way for her players, young
newcomers from over a dozen countries, to cope with their traumas and aid in
their process of assimilation. The team
bonded over their shared, but varied, histories. It also gave them a sense of refuge, the
thing they made the troublesome trek across the globe to obtain.
But this worked because those young boys, from countries
like Somalia, Ethiopia, South Sudan, Iraq, Kosovo were all deeply passionate
about soccer. News flash: not everyone
is crazy about soccer, even in countries and cultures where becoming a famous
soccer star is the pinnacle of success.
We can acknowledge the high regard that soccer has for many, but we have
to accept that soccer does not always reign supreme everywhere.
In a discussion about our all-girls curriculum, coaches
suggested that there should be less of a focus on soccer. This seems to be in direct opposition to what
the organization wants to do. However,
the reasoning was sound: girls didn’t want to play it.
If you refer to my previous post, it’s important to remember
that female soccer players are heavily stigmatized, and their participation in
soccer is a blatant reversal of gender norms.
If a girl plays a sport in South Africa, it’s netball, a hybrid
basketball-like game. If she were to
play soccer, there are often serious, potentially life-threatening
repercussions. Yes, our programs force
young people to question and challenge gender norms, but this is a perfect
example of where it’s hard to practice what you preach.
One of the biggest reasons girls didn’t want to play soccer
wasn’t even some kind of grand societal reason.
Since SKILLZ Street happens after school, the girls are wearing their
mandatory school uniforms that often consist of a matronly blazer, a crisp
white dress shirt, a pair of clunky Mary Janes, and the cincher – a skirt. This is definitely not the best sporting
attire.
Many coaches themselves are not in the slightest bit interested
in the sport. In one discussion, a coach
suggested, with the support of fellow co-workers, that the curriculum should be
altered to include alternatives that would interest the girls more. “Even a tea party,” she threw out, even
though I’m sure nobody past the age of 5 really cares for tea parties. The soccer aspect of the program often
deterred students from attending sessions.
When someone working on the front-lines tells us to lessen our emphasis
on the sport that provided our namesake, what does this feedback alert to
us?
It makes us weigh our priorities. Which is better: delivering our program with
less emphasis on soccer with the hopes of engaging a greater amount of youth or
keeping our focus on the sport to be the vehicle for our messaging, but risk
the possibility of lower attendance or decreased interest?
I’ve thought about this in reference to myself, as
well. I haven’t played soccer in my
life, unless you count one time I subbed in a pick-up game at the Football for
Hope Centre in Khayelitsha where I just ran up and down the pitch. I have no interest in soccer, nor do I have
any concept of how the sport works. When
I was the age of our target audience, 10 to 18, I was a thousand times more
interested in music than I was in anything remotely sport or athletics
related. In middle school, I somehow
worked the system and took choir instead of mandatory Physical Education.
If you told the young me that there was a singing program
that also managed to teach about HIV, I would have been the first to sign
up. If you told me there was a soccer
program that managed to teach about HIV, I would have tried to avoid it at all
costs. If I had to attend it, I may have
learned a thing or two, but I would have dread going to it. It wasn’t made for me. Don’t even bring up the fact that I would
have been sitting in a class discussing how boys should always respect a girl’s
decision when it comes to sex and how boys should avoid getting girls pregnant
when I knew very well when I was the same age as our participants that I didn’t
like girls and wasn’t going to get any of them pregnant. The default assumption of heterosexuality in Grassroot
Soccer’s curriculum is yet another reason why it would not have been the most
beneficial to me.
What this investigation has led me to conclude is the
reinforced notion that no single approach works for everyone. This is not only relevant to Grassroot Soccer
but to all non-profits. We have to come
to terms with that fact. There is no
such thing as a one-size-fits-all solution.
We can’t go on thinking that we can change everybody, regardless of how
much time and research goes into making our programs the most impactful. What we can
do is adapt: to identify those who would most benefit, and make a concerted
effort to change those specific people’s lives.
I think that Grassroot Soccer has realized this and is making changes to
their recruitment strategies and program implementation in order to make it
happen.
I wholeheartedly believe that soccer can be a powerful tool
in the fight against HIV, and we have evidence that has proven that many times
over. However, we need to be humble:
count our wins and accept our losses. Only
in learning from our downfalls can we focus on our strengths and implement
proper strategies in the places where we can truly make impact. Our model can’t fit everywhere, so instead,
we have to make our model fit where it can, and it’s in those spaces where we
can and must succeed.
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