The first time I ever played golf, it was at when my colleague and friend, Anastasia Bucsis, and her wife, Diana Matheson, organized an afternoon of connecting with really cool women in the sports space in Toronto.
Golfing was really hard. I remember thinking I have to swing accurately, look, and not move my body too wildly even though I need momentum. Despite having the bragging rights on family mini-putt tournaments, it was far more difficult than I expected. I was terrible. I ended up enjoying the golf cart with my friend who was as bad as me so we had fun driving around the course.
Golf was not necessarily a vibe I connected with. People playing golf always look so pristine. And I had never seen a South Asian woman on the greens. But an event this past weekend has me thinking about community, growth of sport, and about picking up a club again.
I first met Amaya Athill, who founded Black Women Golf in 2022, through a mutual friend. They told me Athill worked in golf. “Really?” I said, not masking my surprise. Athill is Black and I hadn’t known any Black women in golf and I know a lot of women in sport.
She smiled and laughed at my reply. “Yes! You should come out one day,” she said graciously. I finally made it out to an event with the group Black Women Golfers. It was an introductory session for racialized women who want to learn golf and sharpen their game.
Athill started playing golf at the age of five in Antigua, where she was born. She was introduced to it through her father. The sport was played by everyone who looked like her.
“In Antigua, a lot of the administrators, the leaders, the players, looked like me,” Athill said. “They came from my community. They were folks of colour. I felt there was no question about whether I belonged.”
She appreciated golf because she didn’t connect with traditional sports. “No other sport stuck,” she said. “I’m not a runner. Gosh, I think running is like death. I can’t do it. I’m sorry.” But golfing wasn’t available for her in university, where she attended school in the U.K and studied to become a lawyer. She moved back to Antigua, did her Masters in the U.S. and returned to the U.K.
And then COVID hit. She had just been married but her husband got stuck because of the policies and travel restrictions associated with COVID. Athill needed something to keep her sane. She joined a local municipal golf club and played with a number of predominantly Nepalese golfers in the area. Athill Googled “Black golfers” and got in touch with the African Caribbean Golf Association. She joined them and played once a month. They became her home and her community during her time in England. She began to put on events for Black women in golf. They were a success.
Athill later moved to Canada and instead of jumping right back into law, she applied for jobs in golf. She started working with the First Tee program in Ontario. She saw the need for people who look like her to be involved with the sport. She is now the regional director of Ontario for Golf Canada.
In Canada, there are about 4,000 members of PGA of Canada, the association that governs club pros and instructors, of which seven per cent identify as people of colour, and seven per cent are women. There are two Black women with PGA credentials and Athill is one of them. The other is Chloe Wells, who had a different experience with golf than Athill did. She grew up in Greater Toronto Area with a West African mom and a white dad from Windsor, Ont.. She was four when her dad got her into the game.
Unlike Athill, Wells was acutely aware that she looked different than others in the game, and found herself subjected to unkind microaggressions as a child. When she was registered in a golf camp at age nine, one of the instructors at the camp called her “Aunt Jemima” because she was wearing a bandana. That instructor was fired after she told her parents what happened.
Wells was talented and a coach named Carrie Vaughan saw her potential and helped her develop her skills. “She was willing to teach me longterm,” Wells said of Vaughan. Wells played golf at Georgian College where she received a Bachelor’s degree in golf management.
When Athill started working with community groups in 2023, she connected with Wells and both of them brought something special to Black Women Golfers. The impact of their presence while exposing new golfers to the sport is incredible.
“I’ve actually received a lot more support than I expected,” Athill said. “So I think overall, there’s been a lot of ‘Oh my gosh! This is amazing. I’m really happy for what you’re doing!'”
Other than one lady making snide remarks at an event, Athill nor the group have had no issues. They play soca music on the greens, wear the coolest fits and encourage women to be themselves.
“I just love seeing more people join this sport,” Wells said. “Golf will grow with you.” Wells teaches all ages and she finds that as the sport community broadens it renders the space more accepting. “It’s really about creating a judgment-free space.”
The purpose of Black Women Golfers is not only to create new and emboldened spaces in golf, but to fortify the work that has been done for racial equality in sport and society.
“With what’s happening now with the world taking a turn to the right, leaning to the right on the political spectrum, I have a lot of fear and anxieties that the remnants of what people saw to be racial injustice and decided to do something about, they’re now closing their doors to or closing their ears to,” Athill said.
One of the ways that Athill and Wells show up for community is to teach golf and remind women that they have a place swinging the club, working in the sport or growing to love it.
If anything, they convinced me to give it another go because of the sheer happiness and enjoyment of the women I saw. My lack of skill wouldn’t matter, but my heart and presence would. That’s a play I can get behind.