We get wrapped up in the sounds of our own voices. Nineteen girls, three coaches and many different personalities come together to fight for victory, every inning of every game for the entire season. A confusingly crucial part of softball is the cheering and verbal support from the dugout. At our best, we are a flowing symphony of noises, Quasimodo ringing the bells of Notre Dame, vibrant with life and confidence.

This weekend, playing our rival, the University of Massachusetts Minutewomen, we were just that: a harmony of support and competitive spirit. Winning all four games split between Friday and Saturday, we showed up and showed out as we visualized and squeezed out every last bit of our energy into a sweep with particular gusto. 

After a three-ish -hour bus ride back to the Bronx, we flirted with the idea of ringing the famous victory bell in front of the Rose Hill Gymnasium, like we had seen so many teams do before. One of our captains reminded us that we only do such an act when we bring home a conference championship, even though we have done that seven times in a row leading up to this season. A trix-yogurt mix of devastation and motivation, I sat in my seat and really thought about what she was saying.  

The whole weekend, we fueled our own fires, a feat that was not foreign. In softball especially, we add a particular flair to the game by chanting, singing and yelling for our teammates. We make up fun songs (even a remix to Juvenile’s hit Slow Motion) and become lyrical masters as we clap and customize our creations for the particular person at-bat. Although we need to rely on ourselves now more than ever for energy since no fans are allowed, that lack of support is something we are sadly accustomed to as female student-athletes. We have been forced to find ways to be our biggest cheerleaders since women’s sports continue to be under-represented, underpaid and under-appreciated. As my teammate and best friend Kelly Bright noted last week, we do not even have our own t-shirts in the bookstore. 

This may seem like a small qualm compared to other, bigger, more pressing social justice issues.  The lack of a purchasable commodity in a place designed for prospective students, parents and alumni represents larger-scale problems for women in sports. Representation and respect go hand-in-hand, and the feeling of a need to prove our worthiness is hard to shake when we constantly feel disrespected. If the bookstore, administration and even our own peers at Fordham won’t be our supporters, we are forced to keep advocating for ourselves, by ourselves.

Victory will not be won by focusing only on Fordham Softball. It requires intersectionality and aligning with the hopes and wishes of many fights for equality for all people. This is the only way to achieve long-term progress. We can continue to be our own cheerleaders, but our voices are only amplified through the addition of another, a lesson from the dugout that will always stick with me. The overwhelming sound of a Victory Bell for all will be the loudest and most harmonic of all. 

We would love to ring the Victory Bell after these clutch wins, yet we will wait until we secure our eighth title. After which, we hope the tintinnabulation of allies and recognition would ring true, and hey, a shirt or two in the bookstore wouldn’t hurt.