“When faith enters the game, does inclusion walk off the field?”
For as long as I can remember, football has held a special place in my heart. My passion for football began early childhood, shaped by countless moments that sparked something deeper in me. I first started playing around the age of six — just casually at lunchtime. But soon, it became after-school clubs, weekend kick-abouts, and before long I even joined my primary schools first team.
Growing up in the UK, where football culture is woven into everyday life, it was impossible not to be swept up in it. What drew me in most was the way the game brought people together. On the pitch, there were no boundaries — everyone was equal. Whether you were quiet kid with the loudest in the room, once the ball is at your feet, nothing else mattered. It was that shared love for the game, that collective energy, that made me fall in love with football.
I still remember rushing home from school to catch the Monday night kick-off, especially If Liverpool were playing, then ending the week curled up on the sofa with my dad, eagerly watching Match of the Day on Saturday nights. Without even realising it, this routine shaped the next fourteen years of my life.
This love for playing and watching the beautiful game carried me through from primary all the way to the end of secondary school.
Fast forward some years later, at around age 18, I started wearing the hijab — and with that, things began to shift. Until then, football had always felt like an inclusive space, one where passion was the only entry requirement. But once I visibly expressed my faith, I realised inclusivity wasn’t as universal as I once believed.
“Doesn’t each persons’ kick symbolise the breaking of chains, proving that Football know no boundaries”
It wasn’t until 2022, my first year at university I truly felt this disconnect. Trying to find a space where I could comfortably play became unexpectedly challenging. I tried out for a women’s team I’d found on campus. I enjoyed my short time there, as I was glad to be playing again after a long break from playing since sixth form 2020 —I couldn’t ignore this growing sense of social disconnection. Growing up, football is about pure love for the game — but now, it was more than that. I came to realise off-the-pitch chemistry mattered as much as on field performance. A social culture was now attached — Team bonding, shared experiences, casual Hangouts —where I felt like an outsider to. I often battled quiet impostor syndrome. I remember after training, the girls would invite me to the pub. They respected my beliefs, and knew I don’t drink, but I still questioned: Should I have gone anyways? Maybe I’d have connected more, built friendships that could improve team cohesion. Was I too harsh to decline?
Being the only visibly Muslim player meant there were, small but significant moments where I felt apart. I’d sometimes excuse myself to pray, will be last leaving the changing rooms, so I could adjust my hijab. These weren’t major interruptions, but reminders my experience was different. There was team spirit, but I still felt a divide.
“In chasing a space to belong, had I outgrown the one I once thought was mine?”
Two months later, December 2022, I made the difficult decision to leave. That experience revealed what “coming of age” really looked like — how adulthood reshaped my relationship with the sport I love. Football wasn’t just football anymore; it came with a new social layer I wasn’t prepared for, and that shift changed everything.
“Can passion for football and faith truly coexist in the same space?”
Still, I was determined to keep my spirits high and find a space where I don’t have to compromise — where I could honour my faith while playing football. I knew it had to be possible. And thankfully, it was.
I came across a page Goldsmiths women’s football team were following — Sisterhood FC. I was immediately intrigued and clicked. Their ethos perfectly reflected the kind of community I’d been searching for — a place where I could truly belong, while playing football. After a few back-and-forth DMs and being added to their WhatsApp group. I went to my first training session and was immediately drawn in. This group held a strong foundation in faith — something I deeply resonated with and had been hoping to find.
Super 5 League: One Nation 5-a-side Tournament, 2024
Surrounded by these inspiring girls, I finally found a space where I could share my passion and love for football while staying connected to my faith. This new experience motivated me in ways I hadn’t expected, with my faith, studies and in general — especially at a time when I was struggling with that balance in my life. My journey with football has been different from most — it’s required a strong presence of faith. I’ve learned it’s vital not to force yourself into spaces that aren’t right for you, even if they seem perfect for others. Surrounding yourself with people who reflect your values is essential, and it’s okay not to compromise those beliefs just to fit in. Just because a space is available doesn’t mean it’s meant for you.
Through Finding Sisterhood — In this community, and through my journey with hijab and football — I’ve discovered that who I am — and how I appear to others — can be genuinely represented on the pitch. Spaces like this do exist, and it’s all about finding them.
