Maeve Chaplin is 167cm. She was born on the twenty-second day of August in 2002, and currently lives on Wurunderji Woi-wurrung Country. Maeve uses she/her pronouns. Named in the AFLW All-Australian team for 2025, she is a professional footballer. She has never eaten beef tartare.

Rhydian Cowley is 181cm. He was born on the fourth day of January in 1991 and lives on Wurundjeri Country. Rhydian uses he/him pronouns. A professional race walker, he has been to three Olympics. He has never eaten haggis.

Marissa Williamson Pohlman is 173cm. Born on the nineteenth day of February in 2002, she is a Ngarrindjeri woman raised on Wadawurrung Country and currently living on the unceded lands of the Wurundjeri Woiwurrung people. Marissa uses she/they pronouns. They are a professional boxer. They have never eaten a witchetty grub.

Geraldine Hakewill is 179cm. She was born in Paris, France, on the thirteenth day of July in 1987, grew up on Darramurragal / Guringai land and now lives on Dja Dja Wurrung country. Geraldine uses she/her pronouns. She has never eaten a Dagwood dog. She is an actor.

Joe Williams is 171cm. He was born on the fourth day of September in 19831. He is a Wiradjuri/Wolgalu man who lives on Wiradjuri country. Joe uses he/him pronouns. He was a professional NRL player who became a professional boxer and, now a PhD candidate, is an adjunct associate professor at the School of Psychology. He has never eaten a frog.

Megan Fitzsimon is 169cm. She was born on the tenth day of August in 2002, grew up on Gunaikurnai country and currently lives on Wurundjeri land. Megan uses she/her pronouns. She has never eaten blue cheese. She is a professional footballer.

Shelley Heath is 160cm. She was born on the sixth day of June in 2000 and currently lives on Bunurong land. Shelley uses she/her pronouns. She has never eaten a durian. She is a professional footballer.

The tiniest scrape exposes the fragility of it all: any of my ‘achievements’ are so complex they are sullied — each ‘success’ might be more accurately defined as a composite of failures.

Sport has given me a lot of things: diverse skills, support structures, a wider understanding of myself. It has not rid me of the self-consciousness attached to existing as a girl, then a woman.

Is the essay about lesbians* in sport finally arriving?

Is there a viable way for an athlete whose family is not in a position to afford the perpetual costs of high performance programs on top of their regular club fees to make the national league?

A man called me a skeezer on The Pick and Roll’s republishing of The Fallacy. I did not know what this word meant. I suspected by his tone, though, it was most likely unflattering, and that was correct.