Lucia Thomas | Staff Illustrator

On game day, my house buzzes with energy. My mom sits on the edge of her seat, yelling at the screen. My dad has a glass of wine and a hand over his eyes. 

Football is a microcosm of American culture — the good and the bad. In preparation for the Super Bowl, I reflected on my tumultuous relationship with sports and football. Over the past few years, the ritual of sitting on the couch with my friends and family, the game in the background and wings on the table, has become something I look forward to. 

Sports always felt like a “guy thing” growing up. However, the gender divide has seemingly faded with age; more of my female friends are interested in sports than ever. I interpret this as both a consequence of my aging out of stereotypes and a decrease in the prevalence of such generalizations in our generation.

Being interested in sports as a woman is more normalized than ever. Yet, the smaller prejudices toward female sports fans are more difficult to call out, and therefore respond to, than overt intolerance.

The constant discomfort of being a female sports fan is in no way a consequence of any individual’s behavior. Instead, years of gender-based discrepancies from the media and older generations have accumulated to make something about enjoying football as a woman feel off.

There’s an element of performance that sullies every conversation I have about sports. The “not-like-other-girls” phenomenon in popular culture — portraying girls who participate in traditionally masculine interests as purposefully acting “not like other girls” for male validation — has made me doubt the authenticity of my fanhood, even when I’m watching a game by myself. I feel like a fraud, and then feel a subsequent desire to prove my enthusiasm, which only feels more performative.

In fact, it seems like there’s no way to avoid conforming to some stereotype. Every month, there’s a new term coined used to put down women, from “not like other girls,” to “popular girl humor,” to “bridezilla.” Talking to men feels like walking on eggshells, attempting not to betray my gender in some meaningless way.

The confidence that comes with being a male sports fan is their birthright. I will always be less sure of myself discussing players, even if I spend weeks memorizing stats and analyzing games: gender norms tell me I don’t belong in the conversation. 

Before I discovered my love for football, I never felt jealous of traditionally masculine activities. I’d always loved traditionally feminine ones, but even more so, the ritual of spending that time with the women in my family: late-night tea and cookies, long car rides, and anecdotes while peeling potatoes. My female community is indispensable.

But recently, I’ve discovered a new community that I love. While watching football, I love yelling at the TV, game day snack plates, and hugging my dad during a touchdown. 

Sometimes, I feel like I can’t love both at the same time. I have a subconscious urge to separate and hide certain aspects of my personality in different environments and with different people. This experience is not unique, but instead, encapsulates the experiences of many women in the sports community. 

Football is built on masculinity. The sport itself is played by men, and the fandom has always been male-dominated. As an American male, being interested in football is proof of one’s manliness. Its existence as a symbol of masculinity makes it difficult for women to feel like they belong in the audience. 

The male domination of football has a larger effect than just making women feel like they don’t belong as fans: it also makes them unsafe. 

In the 2023 Super Bowl, an ad made it seem as if the channel had changed from the game. Many anecdotes surfaced of women describing the fear and abuse following the commercial. In fact, football is inextricably linked with gender-based violence. The NIH reports that upset losses lead to an increase by 10% in domestic violence against women. 

It’s difficult for women — myself included — to participate in a fanhood that actively contributes to violence against our gender. Of course, this culture of violence has larger detriments than just its effects on female sports fans, but it indicates the widespread effects of the hypermasculine culture in football. 

We need to combat the idea that sports are a male event. If we no longer define football by manliness, we could decrease the element of masculine performance that contributes to violence and make the environment more welcoming to possible female fans. 

I urge everyone, especially male sports fans, to discard their preexisting notions of what it means to be a fan. Open yourself up to a vision of a game day that looks more unconventional: I promise it’s just as exciting.