My story began 22 years ago with two pigtails, a co-ord set from OshKosh B'gosh and my dad's old set of TaylorMade blades he cut down and spray-painted pink. Being the daughter of an avid golfer meant that I knew the rules of golf before knowing my ABCs properly and manning the wheel of a golf cart served as my driving lessons. At an early age, golf had an overwhelming presence in my life, and from my awkward pre-teen phase to teaching the next generation of junior golfers, the game has been there every step of the way.

My dad introduced me to golf at age two, and by age seven, I was spending countless Sunday afternoons on the course and driving range as he taught my brother and I the basic mechanics of the golf swing. Around age eight, I hit my driver 100 yards for the first time. This was also the first time I ever saw my dad jump five feet in the air. He was a big guy at 6'3 and 280 pounds, so getting airborne was not an easy feat. On the car ride home, I asked him how far he had ever hit his driver, and he jokingly responded, "About 100 yards.” After a few moments of silence, I responded, "Well, if I hit it 100 yards, and you hit it 100 yards, why am I learning from you?"

The next day my dad signed my brother and I up for classes at our local First Tee chapter. I don't recall saying this, but my father never let me live this down, telling this story constantly.

In the summer of 2007, my older brother Gavin and I had been badly bitten by the golf bug. We spent nearly every day at our local golf program, hitting drivers until we were blue in the face, spending our allowance money in the pro shop and making friends that we didn't realize would be in our lives over a decade later. I had fallen in love with golf, in all aspects. I'd graduated from my dad’s makeshift clubs and picked out the most special set of clubs in the world—pink and gray Top Flites with a matching bag! I felt like one-of-a-kind.

But that one-of-a-kind feeling got lonely, and I was tired of being forced to keep up with my brother and his golf friends. I wanted golf friends of my own.

Fortunately, there was an LPGA*USGA Girls Golf program at my First Tee chapter. I remember feeling seen for the first time in my young golfing career feeling seen. I couldn't believe that other girls had the same interest as me and the same clubs – which I soon learned were a huge hit at Dicks Sporting Goods.

As if I hadn't already fallen head over heels in love with the game, LPGA*USGA Girls Golf was the cherry on top. It was a safe space for girls to play golf, but also to talk about music, clothes, and of course, boys. My time in Girls Golf taught me about goal-setting, how to introduce myself in a room full of strangers and how to feel confident being in that room. But maybe most importantly, these programs taught me that my space in this game is important – that I matter – and I can't begin to describe that feeling as a young Black girl in a predominantly white male sport.

LPGA*USGA Girls Golf empowered me to be myself and to embrace my love for the game because we all shared that connection. It didn't matter who we were or what we looked like; we were all lovers of golf and therefore we loved each other (friendships were so uncomplicated as a kid). We called our clinics pow-wows, and we could be whoever we wanted to be at that moment. Our coach, Meredith Roberts, instilled joy and enthusiasm into all of us through affirmations and endless learning activities. She fostered a loving environment and allowed us to flourish as young girls. We'd go from having dance parties in our clubhouse to playing in fierce scramble competitions on the short course because she believed in nurturing our competitive spirits just as much as encouraging us to have fun.

One of my fondest memories from my time as a Girls Golf member was going with our chapter to Kingsmill in Williamsburg, Va., for the Pure Silk Championship, to see my favorite player of all time – Lorena Ochoa – before she retired. The course was only a 30-minute drive from our chapter, so we caravaned down to the tournament for a Girls Golf clinic with the pros and of course, snagged those priceless autographs and pictures.

I had never been more excited in my life. You would have thought I was meeting Santa Claus. Lorena's presence was gentle and kind, and I admired her for being so gracious towards all of us. Her on-course demeanor was enchanting, and she was even more magical in person. Lorena was also different, one of very few players from Mexico at the time. She was like me in a way and was relatable, not just because she was also a woman of color, but because she had created her own avenue in golf and excelled at it – something I wanted to emulate.

Split Screen

The deeper in love with golf I fell, the more I wanted to compete. My summers on the driving range eventually morphed into spending my summers traveling from tournament to tournament across different states. From middle school and throughout high school, I dedicated every second of my free time to golf. All I did was eat, sleep and breathe golf. And I wouldn't have it any other way.

A few of my fellow Girls Golf alumna had gone on to play Division I golf in college, and I wanted to follow in their footsteps. But venturing into the junior golf circuit on a national level meant leaving my bubble of protection. I was often one of few girls and the only person of color at many of these tournaments.

The empowerment and reassurance that my Girls Golf community gave me was essential during this time in my life. Being the only one of something is daunting, especially as a teenager. Golf can sometimes be an isolating experience as an individual sport, and when you're 16 years old, you want nothing more than to belong. But the comradery built into my junior programs proved to be unwavering. I wasn't always around my Girls Golf friends and coaches, but they were only a phone call away, and always picked up when I needed them.

But the fatigue eventually set in. By my senior year of high school, golf had been in my life for nearly 15 years, and I had gone beyond the burnout phase. I hated golf.

I had forgone all other sports once I got to high school, and my life lacked balance. It was all golf, all the time – especially once my brother went off to study Professional Golf Management, kickstarting his journey as a teaching professional. It was like golf was seeping out of my pores, and I needed a reset.

I walked away from the game after my senior year in 2017 and gave up on my dream of playing collegiate golf. I had decided to figure out who I was without the game. Navigating life sans golf was scary, and II often questioned if I made the right choice. But it was a necessary time. I stowed away my clubs in the garage and went to college. I didn’t think about golf at all. I quit cold turkey.

I finally felt like I was beginning to understand who I was without golf. But life has a funny yet cruel way of teaching you lessons.

Two years after I walked away from the game, the man who kickstarted my relationship with it was taken away from me. My dad passed away the day before Father's Day in 2019 on the golf course, before teeing it up in a fundraising tournament. My world stopped, and for anyone who knows that pain, you forget to breathe. After a day of chaos, my brother and I went to the one place that would bring us calm: the driving range.

Split screen

Golf was the connector and foundational anchor in my family. My dad and brother created a junior golf academy a couple of years prior that was the culmination of everything we learned from our days at the First Tee and Girls Golf. We wanted the next generation of junior golfers and their families to experience the same love of and joy for the game that we did growing up. We wanted them to understand the importance of integrity and respect, while also building a community that cares about each other beyond the greens.

After college, I joined my brother at his academy. I found purpose in instilling the same passion and enthusiasm that my instructors bestowed upon me. I found my own gaggle of young girls to empower, and that became the most important thing to me. I was able to heal parts of myself and once again fell in love with the game while watching the next generation of young girls begin their golf journeys – pink clubs and all.

I was fortunate to have been a member of the first million girls touched by LPGA*USGA Girls Golf, and I can honestly say it changed my life. The biggest lesson we were taught was to always take a risk on yourself, whether you're going for it in two on a par 5 or chasing after your dreams. Always bet on yourself and don't blink.

My journey is far from simple or linear. In fact, it's quite cyclical. Golf has been the vehicle driving my dreams my entire life. It's allowed me to travel the world, meet my lifelong best friends and given me purpose.

Although I no longer play competitively, I'm still developing my own path in life that is fueled by golf.

The game and those who came before me in the sport paved the way for me to make my own footprint in golf, and I'm excited for the next one million girls to make their mark and have their stories play out in ways we've yet to see. We’re ready for you!

Addie Parker with student

For more information on LPGA*USGA Girls Golf and the LPGA Foundation, please click here.

One In A Million: The Addie Parker Story

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