How blind football is helping women overcome barriers in Mexico

Mexico City, Mexico – Paulina “Pau” Hernandez carefully folds her white cane into her backpack.

Moments later, she pulls out a solid-black eye mask and slides it over her face, tightening the straps to shut out the light. Around her, other members of the Chilangas FC football team do the same.

Some have partial sight, while others are completely blind. But once play begins, everyone is equal: No one has sight. Their movements are guided by the rattle of a ball filled with clanging metal, as well as teammates' instructions.

Hernandez, a 31-year-old mother from Mexico City, jogs onto the pitch. The game is five against five. A whistle sounds. Another practice session begins.

Every scrimmage between now and September will be key. The Chilangas FC are on the precipice of making history.

Never before has Mexico sent a team of blind female footballers to an international competition. But next month, the Chilangas FC will compete in their first-ever Women's Blind Football American Championship, known as the Copa America, in Brazil.

Among those selected to participate is Hernandez. She and other players hope their example will encourage other women to take up the sport.

A passion for the sport

Mexico boasts one of the most passionate football fanbases in the world.

The polling firm Mitofsky estimated this year that six out of 10 Mexicans consider themselves fans. The event company Ticketmaster released its own statistics, finding that, among Mexicans who follow sports, 81 percent prefer football above all else.

Coach Wendy del Rio knows that enthusiasm firsthand. She spent seven years working with Mexico City's blind men's football team, first as an assistant and later as a key member of the programme.

But she kept encountering an underrepresented demographic: female athletes. Time and time again, women would approach her after training sessions to ask the same question: Where could they play?

"They kept asking if there was a team they could join, but there wasn't one," del Rio said. "We realised there were women who wanted to play, but there was no space for them."

Blind football has existed for roughly a century, with the International Blind Sports Federation tracing its roots to 1920s Spain.

It first emerged in schools for children with visual impairment, but the international sporting community has been slow to adopt the game.

Only in 1996 was football folded into the International Blind Sports Federation. While men's teams have competed in the three decades since, the women's game remains in its infancy.

Even today, women's blind football is not yet part of the Paralympic Games, limiting its funding and development worldwide. The men's version made its debut at the Paralympics back in 2004.

Creating a space

In 2020, del Rio decided to take matters into her own hands. She founded Chilangas FC, creating one of Mexico's first dedicated women's blind football clubs.

While the COVID-19 pandemic delayed her plans, by 2023 she had brought together a handful of players for the inaugural team.

Currently, Mexico has only six blind football teams for women, including the Chilangas FC. Challenges remain in organising their matches and practices.

The Chilangas FC has no dedicated pitch, no institutional funding and no paid staff, del Rio explained.

"Even so, they were excited to have a space just for women," del Rio said of her team. "Somewhere they could feel safe, meet other women with disabilities and simply play football."

Still, del Rio has spent months negotiating with Mexico City's Women's Secretariat, a government office founded in 2019, for a suitable court.

Blind football requires an enclosed space, where balls cannot escape beyond the limits of the field. Having walls helps the players too, by creating sound when the ball ricochets off them.

Because noise is key in the sport, audience members must be silent during the match. Only one player on each team — the goalkeeper — is allowed to have sight, so they can guide their teammates.

The players on the pitch also shout instructions, signalling to one another when they're open for a pass or charging forward on attack.

Every movement depends on trust, communication and memory rather than sight.

Finding her game

As del Rio blows the whistle for another drill, Hernandez sprints towards the rattling ball.

"When I'm on the pitch, it's as if I can see," Hernandez explained. "I know where my teammates are. I know where the ball is. I'm not afraid."

A short, outgoing woman with close-cropped hair, Hernandez was diagnosed as a child with retinitis pigmentosa, a rare, irreversible disorder that causes the retina to break down.

She gradually lost her sight, becoming totally blind four years ago.

A sports aficionado, Hernandez remained active by playing goalball, a team sport designed for people with visual impairments.

But that game is played indoors on volleyball courts, and players are only allowed to use their hands. It wasn't the same as the football Hernandez had grown up with.

As a child, Hernandez loved playing football in the schoolyard, even if her limited vision made her an unlikely player. She jokes that she was terrible: Whenever the ball went into the air, she would lose sight of it and had no idea where it had gone. But the game stayed with her as a lifelong passion.

Efrain Mora Garcia, the president of the Mexican Federation of Sports for the Blind and Visually Impaired, encouraged Hernandez to try out for the Chilangas FC. He introduced her to del Rio.

Hernandez was quickly hooked. Joining the team left her feeling a new sense of fulfilment.

"I said to myself, 'This isn't a game any more. I want to dedicate myself to this,'" Hernandez said.

"I've pushed myself harder as an athlete, and the changes have all been for the better. I feel much more grown-up. I feel more fulfilled. I feel happier."

A city not built for the blind

But Mora Garcia warns that accessibility remains a challenge for women like Pau.

Sports programmes for athletes with visual impairment remain limited, and cultural expectations for women can be just as restrictive.

Families, he said, frequently discourage daughters from taking part in contact sports, for fear they might get hurt.

Women are also disproportionately expected to perform housework and domestic care. The Mexican government estimates women devote an average of 39.7 hours per week to such chores, more than double the time spent by men.

Those attitudes, according to Mora Garcia, help explain why women's blind football has developed more slowly than the men's game.

"Sometimes the biggest barriers aren't physical," he said. "They're created by society and even by families. What these women need is the opportunity to show what they're capable of."

One of the greatest difficulties for Hernandez is simply reaching the training sessions.

She relies on her white cane to navigate Mexico City, where broken pavements, crowded buses and other people often make even routine journeys unpredictable.

Strangers sometimes grab her arm without asking, convinced they are helping her, but it can feel "invasive", she said.

Hernandez insists the greatest obstacles she faces do not come from blindness itself, but from presumptions about what blind women can and cannot do.

She points out that she has built an independent life, working as a massage therapist while raising her six-year-old son, Noel.

"There are many things we can do as people with visual impairments," she said. "I cook, I look after my husband, and I've taken care of my son since the day he was born."

Hernandez acknowledged that travelling across Mexico City to reach football practice can be difficult. But she said she refuses to let fear dictate her life.

"Of course, there are dangers," she explained. "But we can't put ourselves in a little bubble and stay at home. If we don't push ourselves to go out and discover what we're capable of, we'll never do anything with our lives."

'Like having a family'

At practice, Alexandra Ramirez waits at the halfway line. Only 20 years old, she is one of the youngest players on the squad.

She studies at a residential school for people with visual impairments near the park and travels home to the outskirts of Mexico City whenever she can.

Growing up, she had never imagined blind football could become a serious path for her life. But she too has found a sense of belonging through the Chilangas FC.

"Right now, football is a huge dream for me," Ramirez said. "I want to keep growing as a player. I'm giving everything to training, to strategy, to being a good teammate. Being here feels like having a family. You feel a beautiful responsibility to stay and keep going."

Both she and Hernandez are looking forward to representing Mexico at the September tournament in Brazil.

But when Hernandez imagines what the experience will be like, her answer is less about football and more about recognition and family.

"One of my biggest dreams is for my son to see me play in the Copa America," Hernandez said. "I want to come off the field and have him hug me and say, 'Congratulations, Mum.'"

As dusk settles over the park, Hernandez unfolds her white cane and begins the journey home with Noel by her side.

Tomorrow, she will once again board crowded buses and make her way through the metropolis with her white cane. But a few days later, she will return to the pitch — a place where she feels she can finally see.

Reporting originally appeared via Al Jazeera. Read the full source for additional context.