By Jewelle Gomez —
The high schools in Boston during my formative years were mostly segregated by gender at that time, which meant our basketball team had three Barbaras, Georgette, Jeanette—and Gwen, who remains my best friend. These were my heroes; their athleticism and dedication thrilled me, although I only sliced up the oranges for them to eat at half-time. Even believing in them as I did, I couldn’t imagine a future in which they were professional ball players like my (then) beloved Celtics were, except maybe in fantasy fiction.
I’ve thought of them many times over the sixty years since then. Their smiles, sweat, and camaraderie were prime ingredients supporting my feminism as my social consciousness evolved through the progressive movements. The Girls High School team was once again by my side (metaphorically speaking) when I attended the pre-season game of the Golden State Valkyries, the first expansion team added to the WNBA in seventeen years. It further made history by hiring Natalie Nakase, who had earlier been the first Asian American coach to win a WNBA title.
I imagine there was a significant portion of the crowd that had never used the world Valkyrie in its life and wasn’t quite sure what Valhalla was, much less the announcer’s derivative rallying cry. Still, they were decked out in the team’s t-shirts, caps, and jackets (I’m still waiting for the earrings!), creating a sea of lavender.
Being in a women’s space has been increasingly rare and this was definitely that. A women’s space doesn’t mean there are no other genders present, only that the dominant energy is female and the cultural effect is slightly different from another space. And there were more children; some so young they needed to wear earmuffs.
When the cameras scanned the crowd, projecting faces on the jumbo screens, it was the ecstasy of the children that sent the crowd roaring. That was equaled by the cheers when the more elderly fans were featured on the screen, such as my spouse and I (in our 70s) with two former colleagues in their 80s.
Yes, it is odd to see the athletes racing down court wearing layers of make-up, fake eyelashes, and hair weaves. It was especially jarring because such camouflage was prescribed in the early days so people wouldn’t assume the players were lesbians. Maybe younger players today just like to leave their marketing options more open.
Yes, it’s discouraging to know that the WNBA #1 pick’s salary for the first year was $78K while the NBA #1 pick’s first year salary was $13.8 million. I know that, in a country where the median salary is under $40,000, nobody needs to make $13 million to survive. In 1983, women earned approximately 83% of what men earned, but today’s WNBA deficiency is by 175 times! All that said, the Chase Center was a fantasy fiction dream come true for those of us remembering how women’s sports have developed since Title Nine.
Many workers were deployed to help fans to our seats; I imagine the assumption being there would be a lot of first-time attendees. I heard a woman comment to a worker as she descended to her seat, “Wow, looks like I’m in the lesbian section.” He responded smiling, “It’s all the lesbian section tonight!”
I know a basketball game doesn’t disband DOGE, impeach a criminal president, refund desperately needy government agencies, re-educate Nazi sympathizers, or any of the “stranger things” that keep emanating from Washington. But maybe it gives some of us, like the kids who keep battling the Upside Down, the inspiration to stand up to Vecna.
Jewelle Gomez is a lesbian/feminist activist, novelist, poet, and playwright. She’s written for “The Advocate,” “Ms. Magazine,” “Black Scholar,” “The San Francisco Chronicle,” “The New York Times,” and “The Village Voice.” Follow her on Instagram and X @VampyreVamp
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Published on June 12, 2025
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