Vamos Spirit: The Force Behind the Washington Spirit
The first thing you hear isn’t the whistle, or even the players’ cleats biting into the turf. It’s the drums, low and relentless, rolling through the standing room only rows of Audi Field’s supporter section like thunder echoing off concrete. A sea of scarves and banners sway in time, and voices of both young and old in unison—joyful and unpolished—rise in Spanish and English alike to sing “Vamos Spirit.” This isn’t just a soccer match; it’s a block party, a protest, and a found family reunion rolled into ninety minutes of noise and pride.
Half-full cans of beer slosh to the beat of the anthems that feel both like they were slapped together on the fly, and like they've been sung hundreds of times before. Hand-painted signs held up by fans in homemade jerseys add to the chaos of color and visible excitement as the team takes the field. Cheers are swelling every time a player's name is called out. Love for these women is never in short supply; supporters gladly going hoarse and fried before the first kick if it means the team knows DC is proud of them.
You don’t join the Spirit Squadron so much as you get absorbed into it little by little. It is almost like being pulled into a tide of yellow, green, and black. One night, you’re standing on the edge of section 136, clapping quietly to the rhythm—the next, you’re painting banners in someone’s garage at midnight and debating whether the drumline should add a cowbell. You don't add it this time, but more drums never hurt.
Outside the stadium, the Rose Room Collective sets up tables stacked with pride flags and sign-up sheets. It’s half tailgate, half outreach, and a reminder that women’s soccer in DC has never been just about the sport. It is about being seen, together, in a city that often prefers to look past you. Pride runs deeper on the field than just team colors or named jerseys. It stands by the community that supports their team with every ounce of energy they have. Trans and lesbian flags fly alongside DC banners and posters stating “Kingsbury for President”, all saying the quiet part out loud. Visibility is just politics—it’s survival.
The Washington Spirit isn't just a team to this community. The spirit you feel, and one you see, is truly a home. Wayward, downtrodden, or marginalized, the fans don't care what your background is—just that you're there to scream and sing along with them as the newest member of the chorus. You will be accepted if you follow the three simple rules: a good attitude, a love for women's soccer, and a willingness to sing off-key with everyone else.
Members of the Spirit don’t just play like they're going to win alone. They play with their fans strapped to their backs, carried on a wave of smoke, rowdy song, and the stubborn and righteous insistence that a women’s team deserves a wall of sound with every goal. The Spirit’s soul isn't found in brand deals, sponsorships, or fancy halftime shows, but it’s found in the men, women, and everyone in between who come out for them and cheer like they're the greatest team in the league. Even when they’re not the best, they’re still everything to their fans.
