This is the transcript of a keynote address I gave as part of ‘One Book One Leman Book Day’ at Leman Manhattan Preparatory School. The topic of the day was Inclusion.
Good morning everyone.
I’m going to tell you two quick stories, both of which are true.
When I was nine, I had the dream of becoming a professional soccer player. I would watch videos of the University of North Carolina Tar Heels and the U.S. Women’s National Team and hoped that one day - if I worked hard - I could play for those teams.
I ended up going to UNC for college, where I was fortunate enough to be part of 2 NCAA Championship Teams. At the end of my time at UNC, my jersey - number 17 - was retired at halftime of a UNC/Duke basketball game in front of thousands of people.
Directly following my college career, I was drafted in the first round to play in the pro league for Sky Blue FC, my hometown team. Since that point, I’ve played 10 seasons of professional soccer, including time spent living and traveling all around the country and the world.
In 2007 I also achieved my childhood dream of representing our country for the U.S. Women’s National Team. I’ve made 26 appearances for that team, which I’m very proud of. I’ve been teammates with Alex Morgan, Megan Rapinoe, and all the women’s soccer stars you may know.
Today, as I stand before you, I’m also the proud owner of my own business, a soccer app for players to follow the same training routines that allowed me to play at the highest level. Additionally, I lead the players association for the women’s pro league, which I helped to form.
What started as a dream and simple goal written in my journal when I was a kid has become my life and reality, allowed me to travel the world, reach the top 1% in my field, make lifelong friends, and is the basis of my ongoing work.
If you do what you love, you’ll never work a day in your life.
That is all very true.
This story is also true:
As a kid, I was very serious about my soccer career and so singularly focused, that I often felt very isolated from my peers. I didn’t think that anyone could possibly understand me.
I was tall and gangly (often taller than the boys my age), I have a name that people have trouble pronouncing, I was the only Jewish player on many of my teams, and very often I found myself in situations far outside my comfort zone because I knew they would help me improve as a soccer player.
For a number of years I was the only girl on an all boys team and got used to the weird looks and remarks under my opponents’ breath. I knew they didn’t want to play with me or against me. To this day, those games made me the most nervous of any I’ve been part of - including for the U.S. National Team.
It wasn’t until college that I felt I had friends who truly understood and appreciated me for who I am.
My first professional season was probably the most difficult playing experience of my career. My first pro coach was emotionally abusive. Family members and former coaches all traveled to watch my first pro game, in which I didn’t even play one minute.
Soccer has made me cry far more times than I’d like to admit, and that night was certainly one of them.
I had the dream of playing in an Olympics and World Cup, both of which I fell short of. I was always part of the training and preparation for these events but when it came time for the final roster to be selected, I never quite made the cut.
Never knowing where I’d be playing next and the stress of relentlessly trying to be better than I was took a huge toll on my health.
I have an illness called Ulcerative Colitis, which causes me constant discomfort and to very urgently need to use the bathroom - and for a lack of a better explanation, I’m not talking about going #1.
Over the last three years I’ve been hospitalized and/or bedridden more than once.
Because of this urgent need to use the bathroom, I started to develop extreme anxiety to leave home (as I’m sure you can imagine). Think: adult having accidents like a three-year-old.
I now see a therapist and am medicated for my anxiety, which has helped a bit but even to get here today was very stressful for me. I’ve had to step away from playing professionally because of this illness’s effects on my health and lifestyle.
My point in telling you this - which by the way is very personal and makes me feel incredibly vulnerable standing up here - is to show you firsthand that you never know what a person is going through.
Everyone. And I mean EVERYONE is fighting their own battle. Sometimes more than one.
I’ve been reminded of this many times when I’ve envied someone and then later learned about a situation they were going through that was absolutely shocking to me.
The invisible battles are just as tough as those we can see, sometimes tougher.
And that brings us to the topic of INCLUSION.
I read the book “Simon vs. The Homosapien Agenda” that you all read.
Although my battles are different than Simon’s, I think we can all identify with how he feels in one way or another.
Thinking about inclusion brought to mind three messages that I’d like to share with you today:
First: Inclusion is about finding common ground.
At the end of the day - despite our differences - we’re all human beings. And a common trait among all humans is struggle.
If you’ve experienced your own struggles, you know firsthand how humbling they can be.
If you haven’t experienced your own struggles, I hate to break it to you, but at some point in life you will.
We may all be very different. But we’re all human and we all struggle. Sometimes even alongside one another in unknowing silence.
To me, that understanding is the most important factor that can bring us all together.
I’ve had the opportunity to have teammates of all different backgrounds, races, religions, sexual orientations, and political beliefs. I’ve lived in other countries and been one of the only English-speakers on my team.
Through our common passion and goals, soccer has allowed us to bond, ask questions, and share information about ourselves. Despite any differences, when we showed up in the locker room, we had the same objectives and shared a lot of the same experiences, even if we weren’t able to fully communicate in the same language. I’ve shared laughs and frustrations with teammates I can barely exchange a sentence with.
I’ve found through my experiences that many of us have much more in common than we do that differs. But it takes a bit of effort to find that common ground.
Second: We must recognize the difference between accepting someone FOR who they are vs. DESPITE it.
I knew very well what it was like to show up as the new girl - or sometimes the only girl - at a soccer practice. So now if I’m ever in a group and a new person shows up, I always introduce myself and make them feel not just included, but WELCOME.
When I was in high school, I traveled with a soccer team to Europe over Easter. When everyone went to church that day, I snuck off and killed time in a McDonald’s in Belgium because I was too shy to tell them I was Jewish and too nervous to come along and admit that I had never been to church and didn’t know what to wear or what to do.
I was scared to be myself because while I knew my teammates wouldn’t have any PROBLEM with me being different, I wasn’t sure if they’d be welcoming.
If you’ve ever been in a situation and felt like an outsider, you can appreciate how a small gesture of welcoming can go a long way.
Inclusion is just the first step. We must make one another feel loved and welcome FOR who we are not DESPITE it.
Lastly, we must be allies.
When I heard this poem by German Lutheran pastor Martin Niemöller, it really struck me.
First they came for the socialists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a socialist.
Then they came for the trade unionists, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a trade unionist.
Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out—
Because I was not a Jew.
Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.
We’ve all been guilty of the “not my problem” mindset.
It’s a privilege to not have to worry about being ostracized, persecuted, face abuse, or be in danger because of who you are.
To be an ally is to use your position of privilege to help others who don’t have that same privilege.
So we are all in this together.
By expressing our own vulnerability, we allow others to feel comfortable doing the same. That’s one reason I talk so openly about my health struggles.
Inclusion is not someone else’s issue to deal with.
It is my responsibility and it is yours.
Thank you.