On Friday evenings, a timeless scene unfolds beneath the majestic steeple of the Mount Olivet United Methodist Church on North Glebe Road. Young chess players scamper through the entrance to the church basement, usually trailed by a parent with a book or a laptop and the air of someone resigned to sitting on a hard cafeteria chair for several hours.
Men walk in determinedly at a fast pace, often with furrowed brows and a portable chess set slung over one shoulder. Spotting the women in the fray takes some effort.
Founded in 1954, the Arlington Chess Club (ACC) has organized more than 3,000 Friday night “ladder” games (in which ranked players are matched with opponents of like standing) over the course of its history. The $75 membership fee for adults is advertised as an auspicious opportunity to play chess for an entire year for a mere $1.50 per meetup.
But of the 70 or so contenders who arrive each week to play, few are women. Three on any given Friday would be considered above average. From September 2022 to August 2023, I was one of those women.
Play starts shortly after 8 p.m. with a time control of 90 minutes for the first 30 moves, plus additional time and increments. It’s not uncommon for some games to finish after midnight or even 2 a.m.
Restless players often stand up, walk around the room and observe other games during their opponent’s time. Some pace back and forth to stay mentally alert. For me, the feeling of entrapment could be overwhelming. The late nights didn’t help.
There were times I would envy the players who’d finished ahead of me, regardless of whether their faces were alight with victory, wan with defeat or hollowed by sheer exhaustion.
The words that Irish poet and playwright Oscar Wilde used to describe the passage of time in Dublin’s Kilmainham Gaol (jail) would come to mind: “Each day is like a year, / A year whose days are long…,” except that in my case, each move felt unbearably long.
I learned chess in the third grade at my grammar school in San Francisco and enjoyed playing through the years with family and friends. I never played competitively until 2021. Once I did, my rating remained below average.
I will say that almost all my rated games were either wins or losses. For many ranked players, the art of the draw is a strategy in and of itself. A draw (tie game) is worth more than a loss. Some players will even go so far as to retire from competitive play once they’ve achieved a certain rating, just to preserve that rating. One might reach 1,500 (very respectable) and then never play competitively again. All to be defined by a number!
Draws were unusual for me, even though my rating would have been helped by them. To me, a chess game that ends in a tie is unsatisfying. I play to learn and have fun. I would rather boldly pursue a win and lose badly than settle for an uninspired draw. To quote former New York Jets coach Herm Edwards, “You play to win the game!”
My happiest memories of ACC were the times I arrived early and chatted with other members or played spontaneous pickup games before official play began. My favorite opponent was a club legend: The-Man-Who-Drew-Against-Bobby-Fischer.
But Beth Harmon (the fictional prodigy in the Netflix series The Queen’s Gambit) I was not. Though the culture surrounding the game has progressed since the era depicted in the show, my own experience with the ACC underscored difficulties that women still face in male-dominated environments such as competitive chess.
Each time the ACC pairing sheet was posted, I’d hang back, not wanting to get trampled by the men who rushed forward to see who they were playing.
I still cringe at the memory of a patronizing and unwelcome pat on the shoulder from a male club member who once asked me, “Do you ever win?”
When the club’s president recommended beginner chess books to me even though I had been playing competitively for almost two years, I politely thanked him for his advice, even though inside I simmered with rage.
The gender disparities extend all the way to the game’s highest echelons. St. Louis, Missouri, is home to America’s most prestigious chess club and site of the annual U.S. Chess Championship and the U.S. Women’s Chess Championship. Last October, the national men’s champion, Fabiano Caruana, received $62,000 for his victory. By comparison, women’s champion Carissa Yip’s first place winnings were $40,000.
The men’s tournament divided $244,000 in prize money among the top 12 competitors, whereas the top 12 women split a $152,000 purse.
When the time came to renew my ACC membership in 2023, I declined, having realized that competitive chess was not the environment for me.
Today, whenever I drive by Mount Olivet Church, I feel a sense of freedom. I’m no longer attempting to climb the ladder, and I’m not losing sleep over it.
Another victory: The-Man-Who-Drew-Against-Bobby-Fischer has become a friend. He’s still my favorite opponent, and someone I continue to play regularly, albeit not on Friday nights. We’ve probably played at least 100 games. I’ve won three.
After each of those hard-earned victories, the sky has felt brighter. I’ve walked as if on air, my love of chess overflowing. Some of us simply play to win the game.
Bilingual writer Grazia Salvemini’s interests include art history, 19th-century literature, and Italian soccer and tennis. Her work is published in America and Italy.