Golf Should Still Belong to Her

I learned golf, carrying my own bag across affordable public fairways in Delray Beach, Florida, between the ages of 8 and 15 — sunburned, mosquito-bitten, stubborn as can be, trying to understand why one shot flew beautifully, and the next one rolled 20 feet sideways.

And yes — I was a girl. That mattered.

Because anyone who grew up around golf knows women and girls were not always warmly welcomed on the course. For decades, the game often felt like a men’s club, whether anyone admitted it out loud or not.

But I was lucky. I had a “girl dad” before that phrase even existed. My father and grandfather loved golf, and somehow, they never made me feel like I did not belong there. In fact, every once in a while, they would quietly sneak me out of school so we could go play together.

Those afternoons remain some of the best memories of my life.

No phones. No noise. Just fairways, conversation, silence, and the strange emotional roller coaster that golf delivers to every human being willing to chase that tiny white ball around for four hours.

And golf followed me home.

I practiced pitches religiously in our front yard using two laundry baskets as targets, chipping ball after ball, running inside on occasion to say, “Dad, I got five in the basket in a row!”

I’d ride by bike to the range with three clubs clenched in my hands across the handbars. But that was golf. Hours alone. Repetition. Trying to make one shot just a little better than the last.

And I got pretty good. In my 20s and 30s, I carried a 4 handicap and once shot a 67 on a challenging 18-hole course — one of those magical rounds golfers spend the rest of their lives trying unsuccessfully to recreate.

Those days are gone now. These days, I’m a solid 13 handicap when everything comes together fairly well.

But the lessons stayed.

The experiences stayed.

The soul-searching stayed.

Anyone who truly loves golf knows exactly what I mean when I talk about those quiet walks up a hill alone toward your next shot — replaying the last swing in your mind, trying to calm yourself, hoping maybe this one lands softly and snuggles up against the stick.

Golf gives you those moments.

And those moments should not become reserved only for wealthy people.

Which is why the debate surrounding the proposed redesign of East Potomac Golf Links in Washington hits such a nerve for me.

For readers who have never played it, East Potomac sits at Hains Point on East Potomac Park, between the Potomac River and Washington Channel, just minutes from Alexandria and directly beneath one of the most iconic views in America — the Washington Monument rising above the fairways. The course address is 972 Ohio Drive SW, Washington, DC.

The Trump administration recently unveiled plans for a major overhaul of the historic municipal course, proposing a championship-style redesign by Fazio Design. Supporters see an opportunity to restore aging infrastructure, address chronic flooding issues, and elevate one of the nation’s most recognizable public golf settings. Critics worry about something else.

Does “championship golf” eventually become code for higher prices, fewer everyday players, environmental impacts, and a slow drift away from the public mission that made East Potomac special in the first place?

Maybe parts of that vision sound exciting.

East Potomac absolutely deserves investment. The course has struggled with flooding, deferred maintenance, and aging infrastructure for years.

But public golfers hear phrases like championship destination a little differently than developers do. We hear: How much will it cost?

To be fair, President Trump and Interior officials have repeatedly said East Potomac would remain a public course with discounted rates for local players from DC, Maryland, and Virginia. They have pointed to nationally known municipal courses such as Bethpage Black in New York and Torrey Pines in California as examples of what East Potomac could become.

And maybe that reassurance helps some people. But public and affordable are not always the same thing. Some of America’s most famous public courses remain technically open to everyone — but the greens fees tell another story.

Pebble Beach is public. Its greens fees have climbed above $600. Torrey Pines is public. Non-resident golfers can pay well over $300 during peak periods. TPC Sawgrass welcomes public play, too, but rounds can run several hundred dollars. Even Bethpage Black — often used as an example of affordable championship golf — keeps prices lower largely because New York residents receive preferred access and reduced rates.

Public access does not automatically mean everyday access. And that distinction matters.

Right now, East Potomac remains one of the more affordable places to learn the game.

An adult round on the Blue Course currently costs roughly $42 on weekdays and $48 on weekends.

Senior and military golfers can play for about $29–31.

Junior golfers can play for approximately $24–25.

And perhaps most important of all?

Kids can still walk onto the Red Course — East Potomac’s par-3 layout — for roughly nine dollars.

Nine dollars. That is the kind of number that creates golfers. That is the kind of number that lets a kid with a hand-me-down set of clubs fall in love with the game.

And while lawsuits, environmental concerns, preservation fights, and political arguments continue to swirl around the redesign proposal, I hope decision-makers remember what makes municipal golf special in the first place. It is opportunity and possibility. Public golf courses remain one of the last places where a kid with a used set of clubs, a pull cart, stubborn determination, and absolutely no pedigree can still show up and belong.

And while I’m ranting, let me say this too:

Bring back youth caddy programs at DMV golf courses.

Seriously. Kids learn far more than golf on a golf course.

They learn patience.

They learn manners.

They learn etiquette.

They learn honesty because golf is one of the few sports where integrity is built directly into the game. You count your own score. You call penalties on yourself. Nobody is hiding behind referees or replay booths.

You also learn self-defeat. That may sound harsh, but it is true.

Golf teaches you very quickly that nobody owes you success. You have to practice if you want to improve. And practice in golf is often lonely, repetitive, and frustrating. There are no participation trophies waiting at the driving range. You either put in the work or you do not.

And when you lose, you shake hands anyway. You praise your opponent’s great shots. You learn how to fail without falling apart.

Frankly, those are qualities many grown adults probably should have learned earlier in life.

That is the real gift of golf. Not luxury branding. Not exclusivity. Not elite image-building. The gift is character. The gift is discipline. The gift is humility.

And if publicly accessible golf slowly disappears behind rising green fees and “destination course” pricing, we are not just losing affordable recreation. We are losing one of the last accessible pathways into a sport that quietly teaches resilience, accountability, sportsmanship, respect, and perseverance.

Improve East Potomac?

Absolutely.

Restore it?

Yes.

Protect it from flooding and neglect?

Of course.

But do not turn it into something ordinary families can no longer afford to enjoy. Because golf should not belong only to people with privilege.

It should still belong to the little girl pulling her own bag down a public fairway — sunburned, mosquito-bitten, stubborn as ever — dreaming that maybe this next shot finally flies straight.