Across many of the stories of abuse from women’s players, a few consistent themes emerged. One was the players’ feelings of powerlessness, or of a responsibility to accept inappropriate behavior rather than report it for fear of causing public problems for nascent pro leagues that often exist on precarious financial foundations. While many members of the World Cup champion United States women’s national team are household names and earn hundreds of thousands of dollars annually, about three-quarters of the players in the N.W.S.L. earn $31,000 or less each season, according to its players’ union.
“This isn’t just something that has happened at one club,” Meghan Klingenberg, a longtime member of the Thorns and a World Cup winner, wrote on Twitter last month after earlier reports of a coach who had been accused of abusing his players verbally and emotionally. “This is systemic and we need accountability.”
On Friday morning, Nadia Nadim, an Afghan-Danish striker who plays for Racing Louisville, wrote that she had not been harassed, but that the league had done nothing “when a certain club forged my signature to fake an extended option, to gain benefits from a trade.” She added: “N.W.S.L. is such a joke.”
While issues of abuse and corporate governance in women’s soccer have intensified in recent months, they fit a longstanding pattern. The predecessor league to the N.W.S.L., Women’s Professional Soccer, folded in 2012 in part because of legal fight between the league and the owner of the magicJack team, Dan Borislow, after players accused Borislow of bullying and threatening players.
Last year, Major League Soccer forced Dell Loy Hansen, who owns Real Salt Lake and who also owned the Utah Royals in N.W.S.L., to sell his teams after former players and employees detailed his history of racist and sexist comments. And earlier this season, the N.W.S.L.’s New York-area club, Gotham F.C., fired its general manager, Alyssa LaHue, for what it said were unspecified violations of league policy.