Inside Lesbian Garros: How Lesbians Are Transforming Madrid’s Tennis Culture

Over the past year, I’ve found myself deep in a rabbit hole of ‘90s lesbian sports culture. It started innocently enough—after watching Battle of the Sexes about Billie Jean King—but quickly turned into a full-blown obsession. I was struck by how difficult it was, and still is, to be openly queer in professional sports. Sponsorship deals could be lost. Homophobia wasn’t just common—it was expected. And yet, queer women found ways to thrive. Often, sports were one of the few arenas where they could.

As I dove deeper, I discovered that sports tournaments were among the few spaces where lesbians could be visibly out. That visibility didn’t come without a fight; homophobia was ever-present. But still, these events were some of the only non-bar spaces where lesbian cruising could happen. The Ladies Professional Golf Association (LPGA), for example, was once mockingly dubbed a haven for “dykes with spikes” or “androgynous feminists with lob wedges and attitudes.” Then there’s Dana from The L Word—our fictional pro tennis lesbian—who famously landed a Subaru sponsorship, a wink to real-world queer marketing. 

Meanwhile, the professional tennis circuit was flooded with lesbian gossip. Conchita Martínez, for instance, never officially came out, but it was widely known she dated fellow tennis legend Gigi Fernández in the ’90s. Their relationship may have cost Fernández her spot on the 1996 U.S. Federation Cup team, which was set to face Spain. “If it was France and not Spain that we were playing, I’d be on the team,” Fernández said. “I’m half of the best doubles team of the ’90s, how can I not be a team player?” Team captain Billie Jean King reportedly feared Fernández might prioritize her “friendship” with Martínez over her loyalty to the U.S.

Related: Get To Know Madrid’s First Queer And Trans Soccer Team: DragonQueer

While we want to believe that the days of hiding queer relationships are behind us, queerphobia in tennis—and across sports—remains. Today, few players are openly out. Those who are, often face backlash. And many still choose to remain closeted. As recently as a few years ago, Ukrainian player Sergiy Stakhovsky notoriously said, “On the WTA tour, almost every other player is a lesbian. So I for sure won’t send my daughter to play tennis.” His comment was widely condemned, but it reflected a still-hostile environment for queer athletes.

To that kind of homophobia, we say: Dykes in spikes? Half the women are lesbians? Sounds like our kind of place.

And that’s exactly the spirit behind Lesbian Garros—Madrid’s proudly queer, inclusive tennis tournament (and now, thriving league). Founded in 2023 by Ana Leal and Ana Gordillo—girlfriends who met on the tennis court—Lesbian Garros was born out of a desire to create a joyful, competitive space where queer people could reclaim the game on their own terms. What began with just 16 players has grown into a community of more than 250 people across its tennis and padel leagues. All are welcome—regardless of gender or sexuality—but the roots of the project lie in creating a safer, celebratory space for queer women to play, compete, and connect.

GO Magazine sat down with Ana Leal to talk about building community through sport, reclaiming space, and designing a league that’s transformed Madrid’s racquet sport landscape. 

GO: How did Lesbian Garros start? 

Ana Leal: The first tournament took place in May 2023, and turnout was surprisingly strong. It all started because, post-COVID, I began taking tennis lessons with my best friend just to spend more time outdoors. We’d post the occasional Instagram story, and people started messaging me saying that they used to play or had friends who did. I hadn’t realized how many people around me were into tennis.

The first edition of the tournament was casual—just 16 of us, mostly friends of friends. I made an Instagram account, posted some memes to build hype, and thought of it as more of a fun picnic than a real event. But on tournament day, the energy shifted. By the final match, 30 friends were fully locked in. At one point, the crowd went silent for a crucial point, then exploded in celebration. That’s when I realized—this felt like a real tournament.

GO: What did you see in other “traditional” sports spaces that forced you to build Lesbian Garros instead? 

AL: I realized there’s a real lack of explicitly queer spaces in sports. My relationship with sports has always been complicated—more hate than love. At school, playing felt like being exposed. Sports have long reinforced rigid gender norms, punishing anyone who doesn’t conform. For me, being tall made me hyper-aware of my movements. I wasn’t great at sports, but that wasn’t the issue. Any movement could be judged as too masculine, too awkward. I think many people, not just in the queer community but also straight people, can relate to this fear of being mocked in sports contexts.

Over time, I made peace with sports. I began to see them differently. We started Lesbian Garros as a recreational and fun project, something we did just to enjoy ourselves. The project has taken on a deeper meaning. After the first edition of the tournament, we realized there was a real need. People were craving spaces like this.

GO: I can imagine that people are drawn to a queer space that isn’t centered around the club scene or drinking. Do you think those aspects have contributed to people being attracted to the league?

AL: Yes, definitely. We’ve realized that many queer people live in isolation. I’ve had friends or coworkers tell me, “I’m bringing my friend because she’s a lesbian and doesn’t know anyone.” There’s a real need to connect with others, and social spaces aren’t always accessible to everyone. Not everyone wants or is able to meet people in a nightclub.

The other day, we were talking to two women who told us, “We wish this had existed when we were 30; it would have helped us so much.” They were older women who, in their time, only had the option of going out to parties. Now, even though they’re in relationships and not looking to meet anyone, they enjoy an event where they can bring their friends. What they loved about Lesbian Garros was that they could include their gay male friends—something that’s not always possible in other lesbian spaces, where they don’t always feel as welcome.

GO: What surprised you about building these events? What needs in the community did you uncover that you weren’t necessarily expecting? 

AL: We know that lesbians have always occupied a marginal place in culture, but at the last Lesbian Garros, 96 people played, and we had 400 spectators. The most incredible part was the diversity of the audience—groups of hip friends, work colleagues, and even families with children. I was really surprised to see kids at the event. 

In fact, I heard something really beautiful: there were lesbian couples with children who, for the first time, saw other kids who also had lesbian parents. It’s incredible to think that, until that moment, they hadn’t had that kind of reference. This just shows how few spaces exist for the community.

GO: How are the tennis and padel leagues organized? 

AL: In January 2025, we launched the first Lesbian Garros tennis and padel leagues. Currently, there are 80 people playing tennis and around 150 playing padel.

When we created the league, we wanted to steer away from the typical impersonal ranking system, like “Group 35.” Instead, we aimed to cultivate a friendly, fun environment. That’s why we decided to give each level creative names. For example, the beginner level is called “Jenny from The L Word Level,” because Jenny represents “the new lesbian” in the community, just like these players are new to tennis. We think this approach is fun, honors lesbians who came before us, and helps make everyone feel more included.

It’s a lot of work to coordinate, but at least you can’t deny how in demand queer sports spaces are. What we’ve realized is that as we come together, we stop being just a small group and begin to recognize the real power we have.

GO: How has this project been personally enriching for you? What were some unexpected positive aspects that you found? 

AL: The merchandising aspect excites me because, as a graphic designer, it’s another creative outlet. It’s especially intriguing because so many tennis and tennis fashion brands focus on selling something “exclusive.” I was shocked and frustrated, questioning what exactly we’re buying into with these brands.

When thinking about our own merchandising, I didn’t want the typical “lesbian” designs with flags and obvious symbols. Instead, I envisioned something with a high-status aesthetic, but with a twist. It’d look high fashion, but as you leaned in close, instead of reading “Sporty and Rich,” it would say “Bollera y Precaria” (Dyke and Precarious). It’s absurd that we invest in brands that sell us status, while what we really need is to recognize our own precariousness and act accordingly. It’s like sneaking a Trojan horse into the system.

GO: What does the future hold for Lesbian Garros? 

AL: Looking ahead, I’d love for this project to evolve into a platform for others. The community we’ve built is full of strong connections, and I believe we can use this space to give visibility to new ideas and projects. For example, Oreiana wrote a song about the project and performed it at the last tournament. And we’ve been lucky to have so much support from other queer women in the community. The Vogue article about Lesbian Garros came about thanks to María Caparrós, who took the photos. 

In the future, we’d love to keep expanding the project. Now that social media gives us so much visibility, a lot of people reach out saying they wish they had something like this in their city. So, the next step might be to take this initiative beyond Madrid and bring it to even more places.

Many people message us saying things like, “Let me know in advance because I want to go to Madrid.” There are people coming from other cities to play, and one girl mentioned that they would be coming in a group of eight friends. That’s why we’d like to organize an edition in Barcelona this year.

And with that, Lesbian Garros carries on the proud legacy of tennis trailblazers—from Billie Jean King to Daria Kasatkina—breaking barriers with every serve and creating inclusive spaces for queer women in sport. If you’d like to learn more about their work, check out their Instagram and don’t forget to snag some of their merch!