A Story of Women (Fans) in Sports

Growing up, I never questioned my place as a sports fan, but over time, I realized that women’s voices are often sidelined in sports spaces—especially in football. For every woman who’s faced doubts in sports fandom, I’m here to say: We belong. More women in sports make the community stronger, louder, and more connected. Check out my latest blog, where I dive deeper into my journey as a fan and why representation matters.

Growing up, I never quite grasped that women were often sidelined as sports fans, especially in male-dominated spaces like football. I’ve always been outspoken at games—cheering at the top of my lungs, wearing my team’s colors with pride, and refusing to hold back my passion. I was a cheerleader in middle and high school, proudly the loudest one, determined to make sure our players felt supported.

Loving sports felt natural to me. I never saw myself as “lesser” for being a devoted fan. In 2015, when I was in 7th grade, my all-time favorite team, the Carolina Panthers, was having an unforgettable season. That year, we were undefeated until the Falcons broke our streak. It stung to lose, especially to a division rival, but somehow, it only solidified my loyalty.

I was there for those defining moments, like when Josh Norman went toe-to-toe with Odell Beckham Jr. in a memorable clash with the New York Giants. Seeing that fiery rivalry immortalized on TikTok and Instagram brings back so much pride—I stood behind Norman then, and I still do, even if the brawling was a bit much.

And who could forget Thanksgiving Day? Our whole family, decked out in Panthers jerseys, gathered around the TV to watch us crush the Dallas Cowboys, my most despised team, advancing to 11-0. We yelled, screamed, and celebrated every play, believing in a win before it was certain. We might have even headbutted the walls in excitement, but that’s a story for another day.

These moments weren’t just fun; they were formative. Being a fan has always given me a profound sense of belonging, a feeling of being part of something bigger than myself. Football connects me to my family and friends, and it gives us this shared passion, something that unites us even when our team is struggling. I stayed up late to watch us win the NFC Championship, hosted in Charlotte and dragged my mom to Academy Sports afterward to get the Championship shirt. I remember us staying up past bedtime, buzzing with excitement. These memories are a testament to the kind of fan I’ve always been—committed, passionate, and hopeful.

But being a fan is as much about heartache as it is about joy. We lost that Super Bowl to the Denver Broncos, a loss that stung, especially given how close we were to glory. We were quiet on the drive home, the weight of a season’s worth of hope settling into silence. Even now, as the Panthers sit at 2-7, seemingly stripped of our best players (goodbye Christian McCaffrey, DJ Moore, Brian Burns, Frankie Luvu… and more), I keep cheering. It’s tough to hold onto optimism, but it’s the price of being a loyal fan.

Yet, what’s harder to stomach than losses is the dismissiveness that comes with being a female fan of football. For years, I've felt the unspoken judgment—the assumption that I don’t know the game, that my love for it is superficial or borrowed. I used to argue to prove my knowledge, but it felt futile against stereotypes cemented in people’s minds.

This disdain flared up even more when Taylor Swift started dating Travis Kelce. It’s as if her presence in the stadium became an excuse for some fans to undermine women’s place in the sport. Suddenly, the same people who mocked us for not caring about football were irritated because they thought we cared only because of Taylor. It felt like a double standard, a loud dismissal of the women who have been here all along. Seeing comments like, “She doesn’t even know what she’s clapping at,” is disheartening. This isn’t just criticism of Taylor; it’s an entire community of women fans being told they don’t belong.

As someone who’s been playing (and winning) fantasy football, who tunes into NFL RedZone religiously every Sunday, and who unapologetically yells for my team from the stands, Taylor’s presence feels like a beacon. She represents women like me who love this sport as much as anyone. Seeing her face criticism only reminds me of the resilience required to be here.

Since I was little, Erin Andrews has been one of my heroes—a woman who broke into sports media and thrived in it. She’s shown me that women can excel in this industry and that our voices matter and deserve to be heard. Watching her on the sidelines, calling games, and navigating challenges gracefully has always inspired me. I hope that one day, more girls see women like Erin and even Taylor and feel the same sense of belonging and representation they’ve given me.

Even as the world tries to sideline us, I’ll keep watching. Football is my passion, and I’m here to stay. I cheer for the women working in sports, for every female fan who knows this struggle, and for a future where we’re welcomed in this space, not questioned. Because we deserve to be here, just as much as anyone else. More women in sports media would strengthen the community, bringing new perspectives and deepening fans' connections with the game. It’s not just about seeing ourselves on the screen; it’s about ensuring every young girl who loves this sport knows that she, too, belongs.

Football, Family and the Feeling of Fall

Today, I am writing my blog for UNC Hussman School of Journalism and Media and Gary Kayye’s ‘MEJO 577: The Branding of Me’ class about the game of American football. From Panthers touchdowns to family fun, join me as I share the stories and warmth of fall weekends that bring us all together.

Sundays in the fall have always been more than just a day of rest for me—they’re a ritual. Every Sunday afternoon, I curl up on the couch, remote in hand, ready for a full day of the National Football League. This routine, this love for football, has been with me since childhood, a small tradition passed down from my dad. Even as a little girl, I knew the start of fall by the unmistakable sound of roaring fans on the TV, a signal that football season had arrived.

In our house in Hickory, North Carolina, surrounded by a family full of girls, my dad was on a mission: make us Panthers fans, through and through. And it worked. We had no other option, actually. The Carolina Panthers were in our blood. Every Sunday, my sisters and I would put on our pink Jake Delhomme jerseys—if you’re a Panthers fan, you know that’s a throwback—and we’d run around the house, belting out the Sunday Night Football theme song. There was a certain magic in the air, especially when the Panthers secured a win.

Sundays weren’t just about football, though. They were about family. My mom’s cornbread, my dad’s chili (strictly reserved for post-kickoff), and the collective excitement that filled our living room made each Sunday feel like the best day of the week. Football Sundays were cozy, like a warm hug, your grandma’s cookies, or the first sip of a perfect pumpkin spice latte. They were the bouquet of fresh flowers on the kitchen table that signaled the start of fall—my favorite season.

Now, as a college student, Sundays bring a different energy. There’s the looming cloud of Monday and the inevitable stress it carries. Homework to finish. Papers to submit. Projects to coordinate. But this past Sunday marked the first NFL Sunday of the year, and with it, all the magic of those childhood weekends came rushing back.

I woke up to the rarest of things in my poorly air-conditioned apartment this past Sunday—a cool breeze. The weather app confirmed it was the coolest day of the year yet. It was as if the weight of summer had lifted, and fall was just within reach. With that crisp air came memories. I could feel my dad’s cheers echoing in my ears, the warmth of my family crowded around the TV, and the smile that always spread across my face.

Though I’m now 130 miles from home, football Sundays still tether me to those memories. The moment NFL RedZone hums through my TV, I’m transported back to my parents’ couch, where all the best Sundays live.

So, here’s to Sundays filled with football, couch lounging, and the sweet taste of nostalgia. And yes, we can all agree, that NFL RedZone should definitely be cheaper.