Books
Trailblazing soccer legend Briana Scurry inspires with new book
‘My Greatest Save’ recounts highs and lows of her remarkable life
Black lesbian soccer icon Briana Scurry knew from the get-go that she would compete in the Olympics.
In February 1980, Scurry, then eight, was in the family room in her home in Dayton, Minn., watching the Winter Olympics, held that year in Lake Placid, N.Y. The United States was playing hockey against Russia. In what became known as “the Miracle on Ice,” the U.S. Olympic team won the gold medal.
Scurry cheered for the U.S. team. But Jim Craig, the team’s goaltender, especially, became a hero for her. “One day I am going to be an Olympian, too,” Scurry decided.
This sounds like a child’s daydream – with as much chance of becoming a reality as a happily-ever-after-Disney movie.
But trailblazing soccer legend Briana Scurry has proved that, with talent, hard work, support from family and friends, along with a sense of humor, dreams can come true.
The child who dreamed of being an Olympian grew up to find herself on the Wheaties box for her winning save as goalkeeper for the U.S. Women’s National Soccer Team in the 1999 FIFA World Cup championship game. (FIFA is world soccer’s governing body.)
“I believe I’m the only Black lesbian to be on a Wheaties box,” Scurry, who won the gold medal in the 1996 and 2004 Summer Olympics, said in a recent interview with the Blade.
Scurry’s life has had Olympian highs and hellish lows.
In 2010, her soccer career ended after she sustained a traumatic brain injury during a game. Scurry ran up against an insurance company that wouldn’t pay for the medical care she needed.
At one of her lowest points, she had to pawn her Olympic gold medals to pay for food.
In “My Greatest Save: The Brave, Barrier-Breaking Journey of a World-Champion Goalkeeper,” her revealing, moving, can’t-put-down book, (written with Wayne Coffey), coming out on June 21, Scurry tells her compelling story.
It is “more than the story of an all-time great goalkeeper,” tennis legend and LGBTQ icon Billie Jean King said of “My Greatest Save.” “It’s about a pioneering female athlete who made sure to honor those who came before her even as she worked hard to make things better for those who came after her.”
“It was time,” Scurry said when asked why she wrote the book, “I was in a good place to do it.”
When you’re in a tough situation it’s hard to see how to write about it, she added, “I had to go away from it to go back to it. We started in 2020 right before the pandemic.”
Scurry hopes the book will inspire readers. “I hope it will encourage people to blaze trails in their own lives,” she said.
Scurry wanted readers to see behind the veil of a professional athlete – to see how she overcame obstacles, kept going, and reached her goals.
Throughout her life and career, Scurry has encountered obstacles and barriers from a traumatic brain injury to racism and homophobia.
From early on, Scurry was aware that she was different. There were few people of color when she was in elementary, middle, or high school. The youth soccer teams that she played on were also predominantly white. During her 17 years with the U.S. Women’s Soccer National Team, “it was the same thing — at least among the core players,” she writes in “My Greatest Save.”
In 2017, Scurry became the first Black woman to be elected to the National Soccer Hall of Fame, and she is one of the first out LGBTQ soccer players.
Scurry was so supportive of other queer soccer players that she became known as the “welcome wagon.”
“When I played with the Atlanta Beat we’d compete fearlessly against the opposing team,” Scurry said. “But after the game, [the Atlanta and the opposing team] wanted to hang out.”
Scurry would take the LGBTQ home and opposing players to a fun, safe place — a bar where they could grab something to eat and dance. “Then we’d go back to competing ferociously in the next game,” she said.
Scurry thinks she has been discriminated against because of how she looks. “Because I’m Black and lesbian,” she said.
In 1999, after the World Cup win, Scurry kissed her then girlfriend. “When we kissed the TV cameras cut away because we were lesbians.”
She also believes that she’s received fewer offers for commercial endorsements than white, heterosexual athletes.
Scurry worries about the “Don’t Say Gay” and anti-trans laws that are being passed nationwide. “I worry that these [queer] kids will be bullied. That they might become suicidal,” she said.
“I wrote my book for LGBTQ kids,” Scurry said, “I want them to believe in themselves and to believe that they can be athletes.”
“We’re going backwards,” Scurry added. “It’s frustrating. It’s tiring but we’re going to have to keep fighting for our rights.”
Scurry was forced to engage in one of the toughest fights of her life after she had a traumatic brain injury while playing soccer in 2010. After she was injured, Scurry was labeled “temporarily totally disabled.” That label was a severe understatement.
Scurry’s head injury left her in unbearable pain. It was incredibly hard for her to concentrate on the simplest things — from reading more than a couple of paragraphs to following the plot of a TV show.
Scurry became so depressed that she came close to ending her life. (If you are having suicidal thoughts, contact the Trevor Project and/or the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline).
“The insurance company said I was faking it,” Scurry said. “I told them I was a professional athlete. There was nothing I wanted more in the world than to get back in the game.”
“Why in the world would I have wanted to fake not being able to work?” she said.
Thankfully, in this low period in her life, Scurry was connected, through friends to Chryssa Zizos, who works in public relations.
Zizos publicized Scurry’s struggle with the insurance company. The publicity was effective. The company agreed to pay for the physical therapy and surgery that Scurry needed.
Today, Scurry and Zizos are happily married. Scurry loves being step-mom to Zizos’s children, who call her “bonus mom.”
Scurry, now fully recovered, talks about her traumatic brain injury to educate soccer players, coaches, and parents about concussions.
“There’s more research now about ways to help protect players from concussions,” she said.
Headbands would help protect players against concussions, Scurry said. “Some of the players won’t wear headbands,” she added, “because it would be perceived as weakness.”
Shin guards used to be voluntary, and players didn’t wear them, Scurry said.
“But after FIFA mandated them, players wore them,” she said. “The same thing would happen if FIFA mandated headbands.”
Scurry was thrilled last month when news broke from The New York Times and other outlets that landmark contracts had been signed with the U.S. Soccer Federation. The contracts say that, for the first time, men and women soccer teams will be paid equally in international matches and competitions. The agreement says that in forthcoming World Cup tournaments men and women will be paid equally in money awarded by FIFA in prizes.
“I’m overjoyed about women getting equal pay,” Scurry said.
Fifty years ago this month, Title IX of the Education Amendments of 1972 became law. The legislation, which prohibits discrimination against women in education, has enabled thousands of women and girls to participate in sports in high schools, colleges and professionally.
“Title IX opened the door for millions of girls around the country to be able to participate in sports,” Scurry said.
“Without Title IX … there would have been no path for me to play soccer collegiately and professionally,” she added.
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Books
Pioneering gay journalist takes on Trump 2.0 in new book
Nick Benton’s essays appeared in Fall Church News-Press
Nicholas Benton is a well-known local LGBTQ advocate and journalist and the longtime owner and editor of the Falls Church News-Press, a weekly newspaper.
In his eighth book out now, Benton offers a new set of remarkable essays all crafted in the first eight months of Trump 2.0 and its wholesale effort at dismantling democracy and the rule of law. Most were published in the Falls Church News-Press, but he adds a new piece to this volume, as an addendum to his “Cult Century” series, revealing for the first time his experiences from decades ago in the political cult of Lyndon LaRouche, aimed at providing a clearer grasp of today’s Cult of Trump.
His “Please Don’t Eat Your Children” set takes off from the satire of Jonathan Swift to explore society’s critical role of drumming creativity out of the young.

Below is an excerpt from “Please Don’t Eat Your Children, Cult Century, and other 2025 Essays.”
Please Don’t Eat Your Children
In his famous short essay, “A Modest Proposal: For Preventing the Children of Poor People in Ireland From Being a Burden to Their Parents or Country and for Making Them Beneficial to the Public,” author and Anglican priest Jonathan Swift (1667-1745) uses cutting satire to suggest that cannibalism of the young might help solve a battery of social ills.
As we examine our broken society today, it seems to me that reflecting on Swift’s social critique can be quite useful. Now we face a nation filled with anger and division and there is little to suggest any real solutions other than insisting people “don’t do that!” We can start out with the observation that young children, left to their own, are neither hateful nor cruel. How do they get that way later on in their lives? What drives them toward such emotional states and behaviors? It is not a problem only for the margins of society, for the extreme misfits or troubled. It is defining the very center of our culture today. Our divisions are not the cause, but the result of something, and nobody is saying what that is.
Swift doesn’t say what it is in his biting little essay. But it is implied by a context of a lack of bounty, or poverty, on the one hand, and an approach to it characterized by obscenely cruel indifference, on the other. He coined the phrase “useless eaters” in defining his radical solution. In Hitler’s Germany, that term resonated through the death camps and some in our present situation are daring to evoke it again as the current administration pushes radical cuts in Medicaid funding.
But while that refers to the old and infirm, mostly, it is the young we are talking about here. The problem is that our society is structured to devour our young and as they begin to find that out, they rebel. Not in all cases is this the practice, of course. Where there is little or no lack, things are different. We nurture our young, as we should, and we love them. Lucky is the child who is born to parents who are of means, and in a community where nurture is possible and valued. But even such children are ultimately not immune from facing a destiny of pale conformity battered by tightly delimited social expectations and debt slavery. If they have enough ambition, education and doors opened for them, some can run the gauntlet with relative effectiveness. Otherwise, our young are raised to die on battlefields, or to struggle in myriad other painful social conflicts aimed at advancing the world of their elders. In the Bible, there is a great admonition against this process that comes at the very precondition for the tradition it represents that begins with Abraham.
It is in the book of Genesis at the beginning of the Biblical story when, as that story goes, God commanded Abraham to kill his son, Isaac, as a sacrifice. As Abraham is about to obey, God steps in and says no. The entire subsequent eons-long struggle to realize Abraham’s commission by God to make a great nation that would be a light to the world would have been cut short right then if Abraham had slain his own son. The message is that all of the Abrahamic traditions, Judaism, Islam and Christianity, owe their source, and in fact are rooted, in God’s command to reject the sacrifice of children to the whims of their elders. The last thousands of years can be best defined in these terms, where nurture is pitted against exploitation of our young with, at best, vastly mixed results. Scenes like that at the opening of “All Quiet on the Western Front,” the World War I novel and film where a teacher rallies a classroom full of boys to enlist in the war, is bone chilling. Or, the lyric in Pink Floyd’s iconic song, Comfortably Numb, “When I was a child, I caught a fleeting glimpse out of the corner of my eye. I turned to look but it was gone. I cannot put my finger on it now. The child is grown, the dream is gone.”
Nick Benton’s new book is available now at Amazon.
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Books
New book highlights long history of LGBTQ oppression
‘Queer Enlightenments’ a reminder that inequality is nothing new
‘Queer Enlightenments: A Hidden History of Lovers, Lawbreakers, and Homemakers’
By Anthony Delaney
c.2025, Atlantic Monthly Press
$30/352 pages
It had to start somewhere.
The discrimination, the persecution, the inequality, it had a launching point. Can you put your finger on that date? Was it DADT, the 1950s scare, the Kinsey report? Certainly not Stonewall, or the Marriage Act, so where did it come from? In “Queer Enlightenments: A Hidden History of Lovers, Lawbreakers, and Homemakers” by Anthony Delaney, the story of queer oppression goes back so much farther.

The first recorded instance of the word “homosexual” arrived loudly in the spring of 1868: Hungarian journalist Károly Mária Kerthbeny wrote a letter to German activist Karl Heinrich Ulrichs referring to “same-sex-attracted men” with that new term. Many people believe that this was the “invention” of homosexuality, but Delaney begs to differ.
“Queer histories run much deeper than this…” he says.
Take, for instance, the delightfully named Mrs. Clap, who ran a “House” in London in which men often met other men for “marriage.” On a February night in 1726, Mrs. Clap’s House was raided and 40 men were taken to jail, where they were put in filthy, dank confines until the courts could get to them. One of the men was ultimately hanged for the crime of sodomy. Mrs. Clap was pilloried, and then disappeared from history.
William Pulteney had a duel with John, Lord Hervey, over insults flung at the latter man. The truth: Hervey was, in fact, openly a “sodomite.” He and his companion, Ste Fox had even set up a home together.
Adopting your lover was common in 18th century London, in order to make him a legal heir. In about 1769, rumors spread that the lovely female spy, the Chevalier d’Éon, was actually Charles d’Éon de Beaumont, a man who had been dressing in feminine attire for much longer than his espionage career. Anne Lister’s masculine demeanor often left her an “outcast.” And as George Wilson brought his bride to North American in 1821, he confessed to loving men, thus becoming North America’s first official “female husband.”
Sometimes, history can be quite dry. So can author Anthony Delaney’s wit. Together, though, they work well inside “Queer Enlightenments.”
Undoubtedly, you well know that inequality and persecution aren’t new things – which Delaney underscores here – and queer ancestors faced them head-on, just as people do today. The twist, in this often-chilling narrative, is that punishments levied on 18th- and 19th-century queer folk was harsher and Delaney doesn’t soften those accounts for readers. Read this book, and you’re platform-side at a hanging, in jail with an ally, at a duel with a complicated basis, embedded in a King’s court, and on a ship with a man whose new wife generously ignored his secret. Most of these tales are set in Great Britain and Europe, but North America features some, and Delaney wraps up thing nicely for today’s relevance.
While there’s some amusing side-eyeing in this book, “Queer Enlightenments” is a bit on the heavy side, so give yourself time with it. Pick it up, though, and you’ll love it til the end.
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Books
A history of lesbian workarounds to build family
Fighting for the right to have and raise kids
‘Radical Family: Trailblazing Lesbian Moms Tell Their Stories’
Edited by Margaret Mooney
c.2025, Wisconsin Historical Society Press
$20/150 pages
You don’t have a white picket fence with an adorable gate.
The other parts of the American Dream – the house in the suburbs, a minivan, and a big backyard – may also be beyond your reach. You’ve never wanted the joyous husband-wife union, but the two-point-five kids? Yeah, maybe that’s possible. As in the new book “Radical Family,” edited by Margaret Mooney, it’s surely more so than it was in the past.

Once upon a time, if a lesbian wanted to raise a family, she had two basic options: pregnancy or adoption. That is, says Mooney, if she was willing to buck a hetero-centric society that said the former was “selfish, unnatural and radical” and the latter was often just simply not possible or even legal.
Undaunted, and very much wanting kids, many lesbians ignored the rules. They built “chains” of women who handed off sperm from donor to doctor to potential mother. They demanded that fertility clinics allow single women as customers. They wrote pamphlets and publications aimed to help others become pregnant by themselves or with partners. They carefully sought lesbian-friendly obstetricians and nurses.
Over time, lesbians who wanted kids were “emboldened by the feminist movement and the gay and lesbian rights movement” and did what they had to do, omitted facts when needed, traveled abroad when they could, and found workarounds to build a family.
This book tells nine stories of everyday lesbians who succeeded.
Denise Matyka and Margaret McMurray went to Russia to adopt. Martha Dixon Popp and Alix Olson raised their family, in part and for awhile in conjunction with Popp’s husband. Gail Hirn learned from an agriculture publication how to inseminate herself. MC Reisdorf literally stood on her head to get pregnant. Mooney says that, like most lesbian parents then, she became a mother “without any safety nets…”
Such “struggles likely will feel familiar as you read about [the] desire to become parents…” says Mooney. “In short, these families are ordinary and extraordinary all at once.”
In her introduction, editor Margaret Mooney points out that the stories in this book generally take place in the latter part of the last century, but that their relevance is in the struggles that could happen tomorrow. There’s urgency in those words, absolutely, and they’re tinged with fear, but don’t let them keep you from “Radical Family.”
What you’ll see inside these nine tales is mostly happy, mostly triumphant – and mostly Wisconsin-centric, though the variety in dream-fulfillment is wide enough that the book is appropriate anywhere. The determination leaps out of the pages here, and the storytellers don’t hide their struggles, not with former partners, bureaucracy, or with roadblocks. Reading this book is like attending a conference and hearing attendees tell their tales. Bonus: photos and advice for any lesbian thinking of parenthood, single or partnered.
If you’re in search of positive stories from lesbian mothers and the wall-busting they did, or if you’ve lived the same tales, this slim book is a joy to read. For you, “Radical Family” may open some gates.
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