Leaders of Unites #101 – Rabiya Ulkü
I told everyone I quit basketball because I just didn’t feel like playing anymore. In reality, it was because I wasn’t doing well mentally
I’m Rabiya Ulkü, 23 years old, and I’ve been living in Arnhem for about five years. I come from a Muslim family with a twin sister and two older brothers. We weren’t raised very strictly religious. For example, my sister and I didn’t have to wear a headscarf, and we were allowed to play sports. We prayed together on holy days and participated in Ramadan as a family. I had a wonderful childhood, with lots of cousins, friends, and neighbors who lived nearby, and I saw them often. One thing I struggled with as a kid was how boys and girls were treated differently in Muslim families. My sister and I always had to help a lot around the house, while my brothers had much more freedom. I noticed things were different at my Dutch friends' homes, so it felt very unfair.
I’ve always been passionate about sports and physical activity. After starting with gymnastics and a brief stint in soccer, I was around eight years old when I really wanted to play basketball, just like my older brother! I loved it right from the start, especially because we had such a fun team. When I was about 15, I quit basketball. I told everyone it was because I just didn’t feel like playing anymore, but the truth was that I wasn’t doing well mentally. I’ve known from a young age that I’m attracted to women, and at that time, I was struggling so much with my sexuality that I fell into depression. I was terrified that the girls on the basketball team would find out that I liked women and feel uncomfortable around me. On top of that, my depression expressed itself through cutting. You can’t hide those scars in a basketball uniform. Even though I had a lot of fun playing basketball, it felt like I couldn’t continue. So, I stopped.
It took me a while after that before I had the courage to come out to my Muslim family. My sister was the first person I told. At first, she found it really difficult, but later she told me she still loves me very much and accepts me completely for who I am. That meant a lot to me, and to this day, she’s my partner in crime in every part of my life.
When I was 17, I wanted to tell my mother too. I was really worried about that conversation because “honor” is so important in our household. If my father found out, she might have had to choose between her children and her husband. The painful reality is that she would definitely have chosen her husband. I hoped the conversation would go better than I expected, but unfortunately, it didn’t. It was very difficult and emotional, and I ended up running out of the house.
After that, my father was the only one in the family who didn’t know. I was terrified to tell him. My father is a dominant, proud man who was raised in a strict Islamic environment, and it was normalized in our home that if you were disobedient, you got hit. I postponed telling him for a while, but my mother suffered a lot because she knew. After talking with my brothers, we decided that I really had to tell him. It was to ease the burden on my mother. We agreed that my brothers would be there when I told him. I’m incredibly grateful to them for that. It was an extremely intense moment—at one point, I was even afraid the police would have to be called. To cope with this, I went through trauma therapy (EMDR), and so did my brothers. Now, I live with the feeling that I unintentionally hurt the people around me just because I’m attracted to women. That still brings me a lot of sadness.
I still see and talk to my parents every week, and I love them deeply! I know they want the best for me. My parents believe that, according to Islamic teachings, you go to hell if you’re homosexual, and that’s obviously the last thing they want for their child. While they don’t fully accept my sexuality, we just don’t talk about it, and beyond that, they accept me as a person. That’s more than I ever expected. I’m forever grateful to my brothers for being there for me. I feel like I wouldn’t have dared to come out without them, and I’d still be living with that secret. I feel the weight of that secret has been lifted from me, and now I can be free.
We didn’t come this far, to come this far
Basketball is now fully back in my life. When I feel like it, I go outside to a court and play with others. But it’s also become part of my work through 3X3 Unites. 3X3 Unites came into my life when I saw a video on Instagram from NOS about how kids had become less active during the pandemic, but basketball kept growing. In the comments, I saw 3X3 Unites mentioning places where you could play, so I ended up on their website. The website said, “You can be a role model for others, dream big, you can learn Life Skills,” and I got excited immediately. At that time, I was living in Bali, teaching kids with disabilities, which I enjoyed, but I didn’t have a clear picture of what I wanted to do with my life. Suddenly, everything fell into place. My goal became to offer basketball through 3X3 Unites to Muslim girls and help them develop in their own way.
I sent a huge amount of messages to 3X3 Unites through all kinds of channels, and that’s how my first meeting with Mark Schuurman happened. We were both enthusiastic, and I made the decision to return to the Netherlands.
I sent a bunch of messages to 3X3 Unites through all kinds of channels, and that’s how my first meeting with Mark Schuurman happened. We were both enthusiastic, and I made the decision to return to the Netherlands.
Since then, I’ve completed the 3X3 Leader Course, and I run the “Girls Only” activities in Amsterdam. I also recently started teaching Muslim girls at a nearby refugee center. I happened to walk by and found out that it was an AZC (Asylum Seekers Center) specifically for Muslim girls. I went in, spoke with the people there about how I wanted to help, and now I’m doing just that. I don’t speak their language at all, but we manage, and I love it!
One of the things that excites me most is seeing the girls grow when they realize they can do more than they thought. Ownership plays a big role in that. By helping these kids take ownership of something they believe in, you see their confidence grow, and that’s beautiful! You also discover in this work that basketball is a tool to truly connect with people. It opens the door to have genuine conversations with the girls, which is really special. I find it incredibly important to support these girls because I want them to feel seen and strong enough to choose their own path. Something as simple as throwing a ball can plant a small seed to show these girls what’s possible.
What I want to pass on to them is my personal motto: “We didn’t come this far, to come this far.” To me, that means always setting new goals. You should definitely celebrate your successes, but then you should see what more you can achieve. If you have a goal in mind, you need to keep believing in it. If you truly go for it, everything will work out.
I want to advocate for groups of people who don’t get enough visibility
I’m not entirely sure what the future holds for me. I’m really enjoying what I’m doing right now, but there are definitely some things I’m still trying to figure out for myself.
Religion is a good example of that. For a long time, I thought I couldn’t be both Muslim and homosexual. But I couldn’t deny either part of my life. Religion is too much a part of who I am. I’m now trying to find my own way of practicing my faith. I’m doing that by reading books written about homosexuality and Islam.
If I really dream big, I hope to still be teaching in the future, still advocating for Muslim girls or kids with disabilities. At the very least, I want to work with groups of people who deserve more visibility. I’d like to do that not just in the Netherlands, but really in other countries too. Starting something like this in places where it can truly make an impact seems incredibly exciting to me.
