Fatima Mursal Sadat

I began my journey as a sprinter in high school before joining the volleyball team. When the football team was looking for players, my sports teacher, Halima Sangar, encouraged me to try out, noting my speed and the fact that my friends were already playing. That sparked my interest in football.  

I vividly remember the first time I donned my sports uniform, feeling embarrassed as I stepped onto the field. Thanks to my friends, I gradually gained confidence and fell in love with the game. While I could only play for the school team, I occasionally participated in women’s league matches without my family’s knowledge. One day, I confided in my mom about my involvement, and to my surprise, she was incredibly supportive, acting as a shield against any negative comments from relatives. 

Eventually, my father and the rest of my family came to understand my passion for football, attending my games and cheering me on, even instructing my sisters and sister-in-laws to support me from the sidelines as he could not do that due to his disability and until today my father never witnessed me playing football.  

I recall my first season with Sangar FC. As a sprinter, I often found myself sidelined; the captain didn’t believe I was good enough. One game, when my coach asked her to let me play due to another player's illness, she responded, “If Mursal plays, I won’t.” That comment stung, filling me with frustration and doubt. But I vowed to prove myself and make a day come when the team couldn't afford to leave me out.  

During the finals, I finally got my chance due to a lack of players. I played well, impressing the U17 national coach who invited me to trials. That moment was exhilarating. After five months of hard work, I was selected for the U17 nationals, a memory I cherish. I stood along the white lines, my heart racing, as the team manager called my name and handed me the number 15 jersey. Later, I was given the number 4 jersey, just like Ramos.  

My first trip was to India, and I eagerly packed a week in advance. On the day of departure, I tearfully said goodbye to my parents—funny, considering I was only 15.  

In our first match, dressed in our red jerseys, we stood in line with our hands over our hearts, listening to the Afghan national anthem. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I felt immense pride representing my country and its 34 million people, especially the women suffering in silence. I thought of the women facing horrific injustices, and it ignited a fire within me. I realized that regardless of winning or losing, I was there to amplify their voices, showcasing the strength and resilience of Afghan women and advocating for change.  

In 2018, I joined the national team, driven by a mission to create change—no matter how small. At that time, we had only two teams, the U17 and the national team, but we worked hard to pave the way for young girls to pursue their passion for football. By 2021, we had expanded to U15, U17, U19, U21, and a national team, along with three women’s leagues. I even started my own team, United Lions, but everything changed when the Taliban took control of Afghanistan in 2021. In an instant, the dreams I had built felt shattered, and I was left hiding at home, feeling like a butterfly whose wings had been clipped. 

I never forget those days and the pain I felt witnessing the Afghanistan flag being taken off by the Taliban and they stepped on it as if that flag meant nothing, the flag that I proudly represented in international competitions and tried my best to raise it as high as possible was removed and I couldn’t do anything but to cry for a whole week.

When the Taliban took control of Afghanistan, I was at a café with a friend, working on an art project for my Graphic Design diploma. Suddenly, my mother called, panicking, urging me to come home quickly. "The Taliban have taken the country and entered Kabul," she said. I was shocked and terrified. I rushed home, only to learn that the president had fled and the Taliban were now in power. 

That night, I buried my medals and any evidence of my football career, knowing the danger that awaited me and my brother, who worked with the military. From my balcony, I watched him burn his military uniform, tears streaming down his face. Football was my passion, but serving in the army had been his lifelong dream.  

We formed a WhatsApp group with our team, and our captain, Nilab, added Khalida Popal, who helped us secure visas to Australia with the support of many others, including Craig Foster. A week after this WhatsApp group, one morning I received a call from a friend who was heading to the airport. "We got our visas!" she exclaimed. I hadn’t checked the group because I had no internet and was asleep. She urged me to grab my things and come.  

Khalida warned us to take only backpacks and no evidence of football or anything that could put our lives in danger. With a borrowed Wi-Fi connection, I saw the messages about the visas. It was a tough decision, knowing it was only for us, not our families, but still, I took my dad, mom, and sister with me, packed only my certificates, and went toward the airport. I didn’t have time to say goodbye to the rest of my family.  

As my brother drove us to the airport, the sound of gunfire grew louder, and I was gripped by panic. Arriving at the airport, we searched for our team in the chaos. We spent the entire day behind the gates. Despite our efforts, we couldn’t get through, and I got separated from my family because of the crowd my father was disabled and couldn’t get into the airport through that crowd and the Taliban throwing tear gas. The last thing I remember from that day is seeing my dad crying, the hero of my life, who always did his best for us despite his limitations, and he told me to be safe and that he was sorry he could not accompany me due to his disability.  

After a sleepless night, my mom came to the airport with milk and a blanket for me. She tried to comfort me as we approached the Taliban checkpoint. One member pressed a gun to my forehead and ordered me to sit down. Fear froze me, but my mom urged me to obey. She had faced these men before during their first era and knew their brutality.  

After what felt like an eternity, we learned of another gate where American and Australian soldiers were helping people. As we moved toward that entrance, I felt the panic and confusion around us. I got separated from my mom in the crowd, struggling to breathe in the heat and chaos. I stood in knee-deep water for nearly six hours with a few teammates, waiting for the soldiers to take us through.  

Finally, two players were taken in, and just when it seemed hopeless, one of our team members with an Australian soldier appeared and led us inside the airport. There, we found a small space to rest, but the nights were cold, and we had little food. We relied on army rations, unsure of what we could eat.  

After two nights and three days, we boarded a military plane to Dubai, and after 9 days in a refugee camp in Dubai, we boarded the plane to Australia. In Melbourne, I suddenly found myself responsible for two under-18 teammates, becoming their carer without knowing what that entailed. But helping my team was my priority.  

After two months in a hotel, a case manager helped me find a shared house with teammates. I was devastated to learn that my brother had been kidnapped by the Taliban. My mother’s words haunted me: "If you had taken him with you, this wouldn’t have happened." I knew she was just expressing her pain, but those words weighed heavily on my heart. Luckily my brother managed to escape and with my financial support, they left the country within 2 days.  

I struggled to adapt to my new life in Australia, working long hours in a restaurant for low pay. After realizing I deserved better, I found a job in a factory and later one as a graphic designer for one of the sponsors of our football club (AWT Melbourne Victory). Despite my career progress, guilt consumed me—I felt I was doing nothing for my people back home. 

I battled mental health challenges, undergoing treatment for depression and anxiety. After some time, I took leadership courses and trained in public speaking to give back to my community and advocate for women and refugees. I found a mentor who showed me I could balance multiple responsibilities: studying, playing football, and community involvement.  

As I learned English within the community and by watching cartoons and movies and adapted to my new environment, I started speaking publicly and facilitating workshops for young immigrants facing similar challenges. Now, as a soccer coach and community leader, I juggle various responsibilities while dedicating my time to making a difference and fighting for change.

I have been playing for AWT Melbourne Victory since 2022. Football is indescribable, but I can say that it embodies love, bravery, unity, and everything in between. It's a sport that brings people from diverse backgrounds and cultures together.