Given all the sounds of a game — the umpire’s announcements of balls and strikes, the cheering of friends and family, and the excitement from the dugouts — coming out of the McPherson fields, one could be forgiven for mistaking Stonewall Sports League’s doubleheader for a baseball game.
However, it’s an all-out kickball extravaganza as the season’s last regular season game concluded with a retro hurrah. 160 athletes who fill the Gainesville chapter’s rosters lined the two fields and the nearby grass. Some wore their regular t-shirts, color-coded based on the different teams. Others, however, sported bucket hats and 80s-themed aerobics leotards.
“Stonewall’s motto is: if you weren't comfortable playing sports or you couldn't be yourself while playing sports, this is the place for you,” said Scott Davis, the chapter’s commissioner.
The Gainesville chapter of Stonewall Sports League, a 21+ nonprofit sports organization, hosted kickball and trivia nights, providing a space for queer Gainesville residents to play sports in a noncompetitive fashion once a week during its seasons. It's a way for participants to exercise and bond in a state where athletes might be otherwise shunned in competitions.
Stonewall Sports first started in 2010 in Washington, DC, before expanding to the current 28 locations across the country. From Texas to Iowa and Michigan, about 40,000 players compete in athletic leagues with a yearly national conference to discuss how to prepare for the year.
The idea of a local chapter of Stonewall Sports seemed to fit well with the city, which was frequently described as a blue dot in a red ocean, according to Davis.
However, the safety of athletes and chapters is a common conversation. While Gainesville’s chapter has never had protests or threats, Harald Messer, the National Board Chapter Liaison, understands why fears persist.
“We play in public spaces,” Messer said. “We advertise on social media in public spaces. Anyone can access that information.”
During their last regular season game, though, there was nothing but cheers of excitement as teams inched closer to the postseason. With no clouds in the sky overhead, a warm breeze carried the smell of sunscreen. A crowd of about 20 cheered from beyond the chain-linked fences, drowning out a speaker blasting the top hits of the late 2000s.
Eight teams rotated between the two fields as latecomers hustled over from the overflow dirt lot about 100 feet away. From astrocytes to bunt cakes to bearfoot ballers – a play on the queer term “bear” denoting heavier, hairier men – the teams rotated between playing and the potluck set up.
TehQuin Forbes, 30, rested before one of his team’s games under a tent. The chapter is noncompetitive, and the importance was placed on trying, even if it resulted in a swing and a miss. However, it’s hard to maintain an unbiased composure, especially when the team is undefeated, he said.
“Some of the teams are more competitive than others,” he said. “... But it’s not like any one team is made of star athletes or D-I retirees.”
Unity can be hard to find even within the queer community. People can be judgmental and shallow, regardless of their gender identity. Combined with the competitive nature of sports, it seems like it could be a recipe for disaster.
So far, it’s been the opposite. The club draws in regulars from around Alachua County. The chapter’s vice president, Barbie Bernardini, drives more than 30 minutes from Interlachen. Similarly, Gainesville’s acceptance of LGBTQ people and the strong allyship were a much-needed change from the self-centeredness of Miami, according to Giancarlo Victorero, a 27-year-old player on the free-agent team.
“A lot of us are just kind of average, like me, but I enjoy the competitive aspect, the playing on a team aspect,” Charles “C.G.” Shields, the chapter’s communications director. “When your team does well, it's really fun doing well.”
Despite the welcoming atmosphere, it’s hard to ignore the elephant in the room. Sports rocketed to the forefront of LGBTQ+ issues, especially after President Donald Trump was elected.
The NCAA restricted women’s sports at the collegiate level to solely women assigned female at birth in February. The governing body did so in response to an executive order, allowing federal funding to be frozen from organizations that don’t follow Title IX, which, according to the administration, dictates “sex” as the gender at birth.
The ruling impacted less than 10 current athletes among the 500,000 current student-athletes in NCAA schools, according to NCAA President Charlie Baker’s estimation. However, it’s indicative of a larger trend of restricting trans-athletes in sports, an idea that has increased in popularity.
Across the political spectrum, more Americans believe trans-athletes should play on the team that matches the gender they were assigned at birth since 2022. Some fear that trans-athletes pose a risk on the court. Others point to parity. Still, others feel uncomfortable sharing a locker room.
There's seldom talk about how uncomfortable transgender Americans feel in locker rooms themselves. According to the GLSEN Research Institute, queer students avoid locker rooms and school athletic facilities at higher rates than their cisgender counterparts.
One thing is clear: Exercise is healthy. Sports provide a link between working out and community. So, in a world where queer people fear ostracization, Stonewall Sports has provided a way for Americans across the country to play ball.
“You can be yourself, and [athletes] can come together and talk about these things that are affecting us all even more so now,” Davis said. “Especially in a time which, like we said, the words inclusion and diversity and equity are now all these dirty words.”
