Every time Amira Mohamed stepped onto the pitch, it was never just a game. For her, and hundreds of Egyptian female footballers, the field was a battlefield – not one against opponents, but against generational scepticism.

“It wasn’t always normal for girls to play football,” she said. “It felt like no one took us seriously. But we kept going anyway. We played in silence, with no audience, just for the love of the game.”

Growing up, Mohamed dreamed of playing under stadium lights one day, wearing the jersey of either Al Ahly or Zamalek, Egypt’s two biggest teams, and hearing her name called out by commentators. Back then, it felt impossible, “a fantasy reserved only for boys”, as she put it.

But over the past decade, change came, although slow and gruelling.

“Things have changed,” she told Al Jazeera. “It’s now easier as big clubs are investing, matches are on TV, and dreams we used to hide are finally being seen.”

For as long as Egyptians have known football, it has been a man’s game, played in dusty alleyways, cheered from packed stadiums, and broadcast on television screens across the country. Most women, however, watched from the sidelines. That dynamic, for the most part, still holds. But in 2024, something shifted. For the first time, Egypt’s Women’s Premier League was broadcast on national television, and for players like Mohamed, it was a moment when their dreams finally felt achievable.

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Launched in 1998, the women’s league limped along in obscurity for years, with few clubs willing to support it, and as recently as 2021, it featured just 11 teams. But the past few years have brought unprecedented change. Five new clubs have joined, and youth teams for girls in the under-15 classification, and even at an under-13 level, have been introduced. Even mega clubs like Al Ahly and Zamalek have established women’s squads, driven not only by FIFA regulations but also by a growing awareness of the potential and power of women in sport.

And now, Egypt’s ON Sports satellite channel has done something unprecedented; women’s league matches are now on TV, particularly those featuring marquee clubs, and in an added surprise, some of these fixtures now include post-match analysis.

A cultural shift

According to the head coach of Egypt’s women’s national team, Abdel Fattah Abbas, the game has made significant strides, despite many roadblocks.

“Much of the momentum [goes] to Sahar el-Hawary, a former Egyptian Football Association member and longtime champion of the women’s game,” he said. “She was instrumental in persuading FIFA to withhold professional licensing from major clubs unless they field women’s teams.”

The burgeoning movement also saw Egyptian players like Eman Hassan and Laila El Behery sign professional contracts with international clubs, turning what was once seen as a hobby into a viable career path. Some parents are even now enrolling their daughters in residential football academies.

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Initiatives such as “1,000 Girls, 1,000 Dreams”, a collaboration between the British Council and Egypt’s Ministry of Youth and Sports, and the Dutch-funded KNVB WorldCoaches programme, are empowering women in local communities.

“Every coach returns to their hometown, spreading the game and opening doors for girls,” says Basant Tarek, a veteran player and trainer with KNVB. Though some of these programmes have concluded, their impact lingers. Girls’ football teams are now emerging in schools and youth centres across the country.

Far from over

For years, however, the progress of women in football was held back by societal stigma. Many parents refused to support their daughters’ ambitions, seeing football as a sport for boys. Families often feared for their daughters’ reputations, believing that playing a traditionally masculine sport would be a violation of traditional gender roles.

Aya Abdel Hady, a trailblazing coach with roots in Upper Egypt, knows firsthand the cultural resistance female footballers often face.

“It was hard to get full support at first,” she said. “There were so many obstacles: society, family, and even the clubs themselves. People just didn’t see the value in women’s football.”

But her love for the game never wavered. Injuries eventually curtailed her playing career, but they could not end her football journey.

“If anything, they [the injuries] pushed me into coaching,” she added. “It was a new challenge, and I embraced it.”

That transition led her from local academies to elite roles, including head coach at Al Ahly’s Sheikh Zayed Academy and technical director of City Club’s women’s division. Today, Abdel Hady coaches futsal – a type of football that is played indoors with five players on each side – in Saudi Arabia.

Yara Amir, another rising star in Egypt’s women’s football scene, echoed these sentiments of transformation.

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“The perception of women’s football has changed significantly in recent years,” she explained. “It’s more visible now. It still doesn’t match the popularity of the men’s game, but the interest is definitely growing.”

That shift did not come easily. Amir recalled the scepticism she encountered early on.

“A lot of people thought football wasn’t a sport for girls,” she told Al Jazeera. “They were genuinely surprised to see me play. I had to prove, not just my ability, but that I belonged.”

Her journey began in childhood, kicking a plastic ball alone, before gradually joining games with boys in her neighbourhood.

“That deepened my love for the game,” Amir added. “My family rallied behind me, and that made all the difference.”

A similar story belongs to Yasmin Yasser, a licensed coach and professional player who grew up in Mansoura, a city without a single women’s league team.

“People thought football was only for boys,” she told Al Jazeera. “Many believed a girl’s place was at home, not on the pitch.”

The pushback was relentless. But Yasser credits her late father, a former professional footballer himself, for being her steadfast champion. With few opportunities in her hometown, she honed her skills playing in the streets before joining academies and eventually working her way into Al Ahly’s ranks. Yasser then enrolled in coaching programmes, earning both D and C-standard licences, allowing her to work with players from beginner to advanced skill levels.

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“I want to be a role model,” she said, adding, “Not just for the girls, but for parents, so they understand the value of supporting young talent.”

More needs to be done

Today, with interest in women’s football surging across Egypt, advocates like Abbas argue that the sport’s visibility must translate into tangible investment.

“Without them, these promising talents risk being trapped in a cycle of underfunding and missed opportunities,” he said. “The steps taken were vital, but they’re far from enough. The resources allocated to women’s football are still dramatically lower than those for the men’s game. This lack of support affects everything: training quality, equipment, salaries, even transportation.”

For Abdel Hady, the televised matches are a sign of genuine progress, as “it opens doors for players to go professional, locally and internationally”.

But the growth, she insists, remains fragile. Support from top-tier clubs is still limited, and without long-term planning and real investment – technical, financial, and infrastructural – the momentum could easily stall.

“These televised matches give girls across the country the chance to be seen, to believe this path is possible,” Yasser agreed, but like Abdel Hady, she is keenly aware of the disparities.

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“There are lower-tier teams that barely have uniforms, let alone medical staff or travel funding.” At one point in her career, Yasser was paying out of pocket for transport and training costs.

“Societal doubt hasn’t fully faded,” Amir said, echoing the same sentiment. “Some people are still unsure whether women’s football is really ‘worth it’. But we keep pushing.”

Like many of her peers, she dreamed of playing professionally for leading clubs and one day donning the national team jersey.

“I also hope to be part of something larger,” she said. “There’s no limit to what we can do.”

This article is published in collaboration with Egab.