Members of the Brazucats, play futsal, a Brazilian version of soccer played on an indoor court, at the Brazilian Soccer Academy in Etobicoke on Nov. 27.Tijana Martin/The Globe and Mail
At first glance, a drab, grey industrial unit in Etobicoke seems an unlikely cradle for the preservation of Brazil’s most famous export.
But those first impressions dissipate once inside the front door, as swatches of bright blue, yellow and green offer subtle hints at what lies beyond, opening onto a blue-floored room under a ceiling covered predominantly with Brazilian flags, but also featuring the standards of every other country competing at this year’s World Cup.
Far from the glitz, glamour – and prejudices – of Qatar, however, a group of soccer-loving women and non-binary people have found a home here, at the Brazilian Soccer Academy.
“We are workers, we are students, we are mothers and I think it’s kinda we feel safe here,” says Katherine Di Pace, who founded her own soccer club, called Brazucats, two years ago.
Di Pace came to Canada from the Brazilian city of Recife in 2017 to study, but after applying for her permanent residency, decided that she missed soccer too much to give it up. So she tracked down a group of like-minded women on Facebook, and after getting together to kick a ball around a few times, they eventually formalized the arrangement in 2020.
Mariana Peixoto wraps Camila Bariani with the Brazilian flag after displaying her Argentinian flag to Brazucats teammates.Tijana Martin/The Globe and Mail
Now, Brazucats has more than 100 members from Brazil, Argentina, Trinidad & Tobago and beyond. They meet every Sunday during the winter to play futsal, a five-a-side indoor version of soccer that has helped develop the likes of current Brazil star Neymar, as well as legends of past World Cup wins such as Ronaldinho.
But beyond the soccer, or futebol, as Di Pace and her teammates call it, the social side of the sport is every bit as important to the Brazucat players.
“It’s our village,” says Fabricia Monteiro, who plays for the team along with her wife, Carolina D’Agostini. Both are part of the team’s executive, with Monteiro in charge of operations, while D’Agostini looks after the club’s finances.
“When you leave your home and you go to another country, you start from zero. Here we find a lot of different resources, people who can help you in your professional life, who can help people enjoy a lot of things beyond sports.”
Of principal concern right now to this soccer-loving tribe, many of whom identify as LGBTQ, is what’s happening over in Qatar at the World Cup.
Unlike global icons such as England captain Harry Kane, who declared he was going to wear a special rainbow-coloured OneLove captain’s armband until soccer’s governing body FIFA threatened disciplinary action, Di Pace really wanted to wear one, but had to make do with a rainbow flag tied around her bicep instead.
“I tried to find the OneLove [armband],” she says. “I couldn’t find [it], but I found a way that I can show what we represent because I think 80 per cent of the team are queer.”
One of her teammates, Ana Oliveira, calls FIFA’s armband ban an act of suppression. Whether that originated from FIFA, or the host country Qatar, where being gay is illegal, it sets an ugly precedent, she adds.
“It’s a little scary to be honest that we’re in 2022,” she says. “And for me, being a woman and being queer, as much as I love the World Cup, I would not want to go to Qatar, because for me it’s a safety issue. And I really wouldn’t want to be somewhere that doesn’t welcome me.”
Members of the Brazucats react as they watch the Canada and Croatia match.Tijana Martin/The Globe and Mail
Originally born in the Azores, Portugal, Oliveira moved to Canada in 1990 and has since become a citizen. While she was happy to cheer for the Canadian men at the World Cup, she says that Portugal will always be No. 1 in her heart. However, cheering for anyone at this year’s World Cup definitely leaves her torn.
“I’m divided because I feel like kind of a hypocrite in some way because you know these things are happening and it’s not right, you don’t agree with it,” she says. “But then you’re watching it because you love the sport.”
That affinity for soccer brought her to Brazucats, but in addition to playing futsal, Oliveira also plays outdoor soccer in the Pink Turf Soccer League, which started in 1985 as a safe space for gay women. That league, which plays at Withrow Park in Toronto’s east end, has now grown to more than 250 members from across the LGBTQ spectrum.
However, she says that the indoor “tic-tac-toe” version of the game is her favourite, and is “the more beautiful way of playing than outdoors.”
More important than that, though, is finding a safe space to play, she says, and being able to do it free of judgment is priceless.
“That means so much to be able to be queer, be able to play soccer, to do the thing that you love so much, and be able to come here and feel safe and know that you’re not going to be turned down or feel like you don’t belong,” she says.
While the Brazilian Soccer Academy opened in 2010, it has only recently branched out from boys’ and men’s teams in the past couple of years. Now, in addition to Brazucats, the BSA also plays host to an under-14 girl’s team.
The pandemic played a big role in that decision.
“We felt the need, especially after COVID, that we promote more female engagement through sports because the number is crazy high when we talk about girls dropping sports after the age of 12,” says Raphael Da Silva, the facility’s founder and co-owner.
Brazucats has more than 100 members from Brazil, Argentina, Trinidad & Tobago and beyond, many of whom identify as LGBTQ+.Tijana Martin/The Globe and Mail
In Brazucats, whose members are all between the ages of 28 and 43, Da Silva says the younger players can see the benefits, both from health and social standpoints, of a lifelong involvement of sports such as soccer.
The need for role models doesn’t necessarily decrease as you get older, either. For the Brazucats founder, looking up to Brazilian soccer legends is just part of what makes her who she is.
“I think Brazil is special, right?” Di Pace says. “We have our own way to play. We are different. I think we grow while watching games, watching soccer, playing soccer.
“And we have important names in Brazil, and I’m talking about the women, we have [World Cup legend] Marta, right? And that’s a big example for us as a person, as a player.”
Many of the Brazucats players talk about the unfortunate circumstances surrounding the past two World Cups, in Russia four years ago and Qatar today. In both, members of the LGBTQ community have been made to feel anything but welcome. Four years ago, a diversity house that was supposed to provide a safe space was forcibly closed down in St. Petersburg, while in the leadup to this year’s tournament, a Qatari World Cup ambassador condemned homosexuality as “damage in the mind.”
But with the 2026 World Cup coming to North America, with Canada as a co-host alongside the United States and Mexico, the opportunity to show the world what a tournament of true inclusion looks like is now less than four years away.
Brazucats will be ready, and some are already counting down the days.
“Soccer is the world’s sport and then we’re going to have the chance to pay back in 2026,” Monteiro says. “I am pretty sure that’s going to be the happiest, gayest World Cup that you’re ever going to see.”