Reclaiming Confidence Through Grassroots Women’s Football

A few miles from Wembley, under blooming cherry blossoms, I step onto a grassroots football pitch, not far from where the Lionesses did what the men haven’t done since 1966: bring it home. I watched that historic moment live two years ago, overwhelmed by tears, excitement, and hope. I immediately thought of my then nine-year-old niece, who’s been playing the game since she was five and how that win might shape her future.

It felt like the start of a new era in which women’s football wasn’t niche, a novelty, or reserved for the “tomboys” but simply part of the norm. That moment reignited something across the country, especially among the so-called "lost generation" of women in their 30s and 40s, who are now reclaiming the sport for themselves.

It’s a stark contrast to my school days, when PE was dominated by netball and rounders, sports deemed more ‘suitable’ for girls. Football felt like a closed club. My three older brothers tried to involve me, but it never felt like a space I belonged in. That changed recently.

In March, I joined the Play for Your Mind programme, an eight-week initiative blending mental health education and football, run by Beyond the Ball in North London. I’d already been training with a local team since October 2023, but this was something different: a fusion of self-reflection and physical movement.

Each week, we explored topics like anxiety, resilience, and women’s health with a qualified mental health professional—before taking it to the pitch. Even as a regular player, I felt the familiar nerves creep in:
Am I good enough? Will I let the team down? Will they hate me if I mess up?
Old doubts resurfaced, shaped by a PE teacher who couldn’t mask her frustration at my lack of hand-eye coordination.

But from the first session, that weight began to lift. I was met by a group of women from all walks of life and levels of football experience. We talked, listened, related. Despite our differences, there was a shared understanding—of burnout, anxiety, the kind of mental fog that lingers.

The programme wasn’t framed as therapy, but it created a space for connection and growth. Unlike the millionaires heading to space lately, we were learning to take up space here on Earth. No competition. No judgment. Just shared joy in learning, laughing, moving.

One thing that kept coming up? We all kept apologising.
Sorry for the missed pass. Sorry for the bad shot. Sorry, sorry, sorry.
Our coach stopped us: “Why are we always apologising? Would a man say sorry for missing the ball?” Probably not. That moment marked a shift. Football was teaching me to make mistakes and not shrink from them—to show up, unapologetically.

And it’s changed my life.

Before this, hobbies never stuck. But football did. It’s the highlight of my week. It’s reshaped my relationship with my body and mind after years of anxiety, disordered eating, and a PCOS diagnosis. Through sport, I’ve found joy, confidence, and community.

But initiatives like Beyond the Ball depend on funding and that remains precarious. It’s unclear how much of the Department for Culture, Media and Sport’s budget goes to grassroots football for women and girls, but it’s unlikely it’s much. Advocacy groups like Women in Sport are calling for gender impact assessments from publicly funded organisations, until that’s standard, disparities will remain hidden.

Chloe Morfey-Greenberg, founder of Beyond the Ball, confirms the challenges: “There’s a fair amount of funding for girls’ football,” she says, “but very little for older generations only now being encouraged to get involved.” And finding space to play is just as tough. “Affordable pitches are hard to come by, but even more pressingly, they’re rarely available,” she adds.

Having the space to play football has done wonders for my mental health. But in a landscape where both women’s sport and mental health are underfunded, the need for these spaces is urgent. Women aged 16–24 are nearly three times more likely than men to experience common mental health conditions, and hospital admissions for eating disorders are nine times higher among girls. And that’s just the younger girls, many older women continue to fall through the cracks of an overstretched and under-resourced system.

Organisations like Beyond the Ball are a quiet, radical response. They create connection, promote movement, and help women rewrite the story that told us football wasn’t for us.

The FA predicts that by 2030, one in five football teams in the UK will be female. But that progress isn’t guaranteed without protected, long-term investment. Women and girls can’t be what they can’t see, and they can’t play if there’s nowhere to show up.

I work in international affairs because I believe in collective action. But some of the most powerful change happens closer to home on local pitches, in community halls, through grassroots movements. When you're passing the ball to a teammate, lifting someone up, or just showing up for yourself, what matters is that you’re there.

We owe it to the next generation of women and girls to ensure they have a place to play, support their mental health, and grow into themselves. Because football is for all of us (even if my niece, now eleven, describes my football ability as ‘mid’).