Every kid has their heroes. Some look up to the usual comic book icons like Spiderman or the Hulk, whilst others might take inspiration from historical figures like Nelson Mandela or Malcom X. For me, I had many heroes growing up - musicians, book characters, TV stars, you name it - but as I got older the fascination would fade, and those who I once saw as heroic in my childish eyes became mundane in my matured brain. One exception to the rule however was Megan Rapinoe.

As a young girl growing up in Maryland, I was lucky enough to experience the USWNT’s golden era. I had just missed out on Mia Hamm and April Heinrichs’ career peaks, but I had a front row seat to witness the rise of some of US Soccer’s biggest icons. The likes of Abby Wambach and Alex Morgan became royalty for all of us soccer-obsessed pre-teen American girls, but something about Rapinoe was always different for me.

I’ll never forget watching the 2011 Women’s World Cup and seeing her sing ‘Born in the USA’ into a microphone mid-goal celebration – to this day, I still don’t know how she got her hands on one during a match. She was bold, outspoken, a menace on the pitch – everything I wanted to be. That was the day I, along with thousands of others, became a fan.

Rapinoe’s legacy is one that means more to me than most other players’ contribution to the sport, mainly because she did so much off the pitch. Her prowess on the field is well documented, with two World Cups and an Olympic gold medal to her name — more international hardware than most players could ever dream of. Rather than churning out phenomenal performances week in and week out and leaving it at that, she has always used her platform to fight for causes far bigger than the sport itself.

The summer of 2016 saw a major cultural shift in American politics, sports and the intersection of the two. Three Black men – Philando Castile, Alton Sterling and Delrawn Small – were murdered by the police within a span of three days. The Black Lives Matter Movement was still largely an American social phenomenon, starting in 2013 as a response to the disproportionate killings of Black men and children at the hands of those meant to serve and protect. I was a young, Black girl in a predominantly white school, struggling to get my non-Black peers to understand the significance of the moment. And then Colin Kaepernick refused to stand during the National Anthem.

The image of this NFL player kneeling with his head down as ‘The Star-Spangled Banner’ played in the background is unforgettable. Taking the knee was – and still is, depending on who you speak to – the most disrespectful thing any American could possibly do. Nationalism is woven into the very fabric of the American identity, and Kaepernick had gone against that with a solemn act of protest. He quickly became the nation’s punching bag, with patriotic football fanatics and media outlets calling for him to be dropped by the San Francisco 49ers, arguing that he should lose endorsement deals, and generally throwing abuse his way.

Despite the negative backlash Kaepernick received from the American public, Rapinoe took it upon herself to take the knee in September of 2016, and what was once an isolated act of protest swiftly turned into a movement of its own. For a white woman to use her global platform in order to draw attention to a problem that has plagued America since the country’s inception – police brutality and the systemic oppression of Black people – was a game-changer. This was the beginning of Rapinoe becoming one of the most polarising players in football – often hated by those who rarely engage with the sport. But it was also the moment my admiration for her evolved from being a girlhood inspiration to someone I had a deep level of respect for as a young Black woman.

The respect only increased when she, along with four of her teammates, paved the way for equal pay in US Soccer. The fight for equal pay was battled out over six years, as Rapinoe led the charge with a federal complaint accusing US Soccer of gender discrimination in 2016, followed by a lawsuit in 2019. Despite politicians reacting in favour of equal pay, with President Joe Biden encouraging the federation to pay up, the usual misogynists and Fox News crowd used it as an opportunity to spew even more hate on a player that has never backed down from a challenge.

Winning equal pay in 2022 is probably one of her biggest contributions to the sport, leaving women’s soccer in a better state than when she started her professional career. In the last decade, she has become one of the most recognisable faces on the national team, and a revered leader on and off the pitch. She had already solidified her place in the history books of US Soccer and women’s sport as a whole, years before her retirement.

Her last few months on the pitch didn’t prove to be the fairytale ending everyone would’ve wished for one of women’s soccer’s biggest icons. A generally underwhelming USWNT World Cup performance over the summer, including a missed penalty from the sharpshooter herself, handed the Americans their earliest World Cup exit ever. The post-match pile-on, prompted by Carli Lloyd, Alexi Lalas and Donald Trump of all people, only added insult to injury, as people rushed to the internet in attempts to damage a legacy that had already been set in stone.

Rapinoe’s last dance was cut short by an Achilles injury in the first few minutes of the NWSL Championship final, and though it wasn’t ideal, her impact on the sport was apparent from the outpouring of love from players and fans alike after she left the field. What she means to women’s soccer as an activist, a queer icon and an exceptional athlete transcends even the biggest of matches.

Megan Rapinoe is an American legend that stands for everything America doesn’t. People call her arrogant and unpatriotic. They mistake her confidence and candour for cockiness. Her activism is viewed as traitorous. Yet, in my opinion, she’s up there with some of our nation’s biggest changemakers. Needless to say, Rapinoe’s retirement was my ‘Avengers: Endgame.’ The sport won’t be the same without that pastel-coloured haircut running the show. ‘Pinoe, you will always be my Captain America. Thank you for your service.