Getting To Know… Rae Wilde

Getting To Know… Rae Wilde, 29

By Roman Jimenez

For the past two months we have shared with you the stories of our leagues in Memphis (BCSA) and the Twin Cities (TCGSL). Next month we will continue that series. However, throughout the month of June, as we celebrate Pride Month, we’re doing something a little different. Instead of featuring a league in a specific city, this month we are going to be sharing with you the stories of some of our exciting younger players from around North America. These players, all of whom are under 30 and who have fallen in love with their softball community, have unique-yet-familiar stories to tell about how they came to queer and inclusive softball, and what it’s meant to them. We believe many of you will be able to relate to their stories and hopefully you’ll come away with hope and confidence that the future of our community is in good hands.

Rae Wilde is a 29-year-old nonbinary outfielder who plays in the Twin Cities Goodtime Softball League (TCGSL) out of Minneapolis.

Literally everything about that last sentence represents several steps of a long journey of progress, one that has involved not only their identity, but also location, and for the past seven years, learning to live with a disability.

In 2020 Rae packed up their car and moved from New Jersey to Denver. It was a pandemic-inspired move to live new experiences. It worked out. It was while in Colorado that Rae lived as a lesbian. “I made for a beautiful girl,” they said. “But that all felt so performative, and not really me.

“I was born in this female body, and have been identified as a female all my life,” Rae said. “But I’m definitely not female, and I’m definitely not male.”

The more Rae came to understand themself, the more they came to embrace their non-binary identity. Rae then slowly transitioned their identity to one that felt more natural, more “them.”

Then in 2024, the same thing happened to Rae that has happened to most of the people reading this article. Rae met someone they were attracted to who played softball.

This could have been a problem because it was the one sport Rae didn’t know about. They had been active in just about every sport but softball growing up. “I didn’t even know the rules.”

But soon Rae would start going to games, all the games.

Rae’s now partner was slaying in a straight, co-ed league in Denver and Rae would sit in the stands watching and, as it turns out, very quickly and very quietly learning the rules of the game.

“I would sit there and watch everything,” Rae said, “and then we would debrief in the car on the way home.”

While they enjoyed learning the rules and watching the joy softball brought, Rae was also a little envious. Rae could learn all they wanted but couldn’t see themselves ever playing.

In 2018, Rae suffered a series of medical setbacks. In addition to Crohn’s disease, Rae suffered significant tears in the connective tissues around their hips, limiting their ability to walk.

“I walk with a cane half the time,” Rae said.

But Rae was having plenty of fun watching their now partner play ball, that is, until it wasn’t fun anymore. Rae’s partner was going through their own transition, as a trans male. While Rae says the players in the straight co-ed league were mostly pretty cool in the beginning, when their partner started looking more male, the issues began.

Although Denver has a queer and inclusive league, River (that’s Rae’s partner) had grown up in the straight, co-ed leagues and didn’t want to leave behind so many longtime friends.

But those co-ed fields stopped being safe spaces for River and Rae. You see, in most softball associations, true “co-ed” leagues have very specific, very binary rules around how many men and how many women must be on the field at the same time, how many of both have to be in the batting order, even where outfielders can be when women are up to bat. Like the rest of the world, most softball associations haven’t yet evolved their rules to account for players who are transitioning or those who don’t fit a gender binary.

“There was a lot of confusion, and a lot of people would say some really unkind things,” Rae said.

After a little more than a year together, the couple decided to make the move to Minneapolis in the middle of February (obviously for the weather).

River was still keen to play softball, having grown up in the sport, and started doing some research. Eventually that research led to the TCGSL.

As luck would have it, a team called the Pancake Batters, which is almost entirely a trans-identifying team, would embrace River, and even though Rae wasn’t quite sure if they could play, the team embraced them as well.

“I hadn’t run, really, at least reliably since 2018. They’ve been so supportive of me getting my groove back.

“I’ve slowly started to run again,” Rae said, “and it’s felt amazing.” Initially the Pancake Batters had assigned Rae right field. “I didn’t have much experience and wasn’t sure of my mobility.” But any doubts were soon to put to rest as Rae was more nimble than even they were aware. “Eventually I was ‘promoted’ to left center and right center.”

While the journey to this new identity and a new city has proven successful, the icing on the cake has been the softball community Rae has now joined.

“It means so much for different reasons,” Rae said. “Not having to be scared that people are going to be unkind to me or grossly misgender me. When I’m going out to have fun, I don’t worry about being ridiculed or challenged in an unhealthy way.”

For Rae, the battles on the softball field aren’t measured in the wins and losses as much as they are in the progress towards normalcy.

“If I can’t control my physical health, I want to try to control my mental health. I crave connection and community and it’s a great way to do that. As hard as it is to go and do things like that, it’s harder to not have support around you.”

One thing’s for sure. Rae and River have tons of cheerleaders behind them.

“The Pancake Batters are always cheering me on,” Rae said. “They always are supportive and telling you good job — even when you absolutely fumble the play. It’s not a critical environment, which makes a safe space for everyone.”