When Nzingha Prescod was 9, she learned how to fence. Prescod immediately took to fencing and displayed athleticism and a skill set beyond her years. After graduating from Stuyvesant High School, Prescod attended Columbia University, where she led the fencing team and participated in her first Olympic Games in 2012. One of the most decorated athletes in U.S. fencing history as a two-time Olympian, world champion and four-time senior world medalist, Prescod retired in 2020 after a hip injury sidelined her career. In the face of adversity, Prescod created Fencing in the Park, an NYC-based community program teaching fencing at no cost in underserved neighborhoods. Additionally, in 2021, she created the Prescod Institute for Sport, Teamwork and Education (PISTE), which provides students with pathways to become champions, leaders and scholars through fencing.
Currently a consultant with EY, where PISTE is her full-time client under their corporate responsibility portfolio, Prescod wants to make all sports more accessible for the children of New York City. At the 2022 espnW: Women + Sports Summit, Prescod was awarded an Everyday Hero award for her efforts to create more opportunities in the world of sports. In her own words, she describes how access to fencing helped her achieve her dreams.
"UUUUUtica," my sister, Tekeya, and I used to shout as we zoomed down Utica Avenue in a dollar van when we were little. Dollar vans are community shuttle buses that drive down the main streets and are mostly managed by local entrepreneurs. We grew up in a working-class neighborhood dominated almost exclusively by Caribbean households. It was homey, with many aunties and uncles surrounding us with love and encouragement. My mom was a single mother and defense attorney for Brooklyn Family Court after transitioning from her career as a registered nurse.
My mom helped me discover the sport that soon became my world -- fencing. Growing up in the Flatlands section of Brooklyn, this was an unlikely path. There were limited options and opportunities for education, sports and sometimes even quality groceries. The way NYC is segregated and designed, the most quality experiences are offered in Manhattan or even Park Slope and downtown Brooklyn. As a child, that meant leaving my community to have access to certain resources.
I realized it at a young age, but my mom had a vision for me when she signed me up for the Peter Westbrook Foundation (PWF), the Black mecca of Olympic fencing. She wanted to expose me to the best. At the age of 9, I started at PWF. Its mission is to provide underrepresented youth with the tools to excel in life through the sport of fencing. It was the first time I witnessed legends who looked like me in their element, dominating the sport on the world stage. It was inspiring.
I started practicing ballet at a local studio when I was a toddler. I did karate, gymnastics, T-ball, swimming and tennis, all recreationally. These were formative experiences that taught me to be coachable. However, fencing at PWF offered something different. I was provided the tools to reach the highest levels because of the expert coaching I received. No other sport offered me that opportunity in the Flatlands. I didn't fully grasp the discrepancies at my young age, but my mom did, and that's why I ended up fencing in Manhattan five times a week -- an hour and 15 minutes away.
In the fourth grade, my teacher asked the class, "Where do you want to be in 10 years?" And then she followed up with, "And how will you get there? What are your five-, 10- and 15-year plans?" At 9, I didn't even hesitate in my response. "I want to go to Stuyvesant High School. I want to go to Columbia University. I want to go to the Olympics for fencing."
I accomplished all those things. And then I accomplished more.
No one else in my neighborhood fenced. Not because there was no interest, but because there was no visibility, and the opportunities were not there. I was the only one in my classes competing at the elite level in any sport. That's a testament to the lack of access to organized, competitive sports in pockets of NYC where Black and brown communities are concentrated, especially for nontraditional sports.
At an early age, it was clear that I was made for this sport. It fit my personality, even while my personality was still forming. I'm a technical person. I like math. I'm athletic. I'm brave. Fencing is very calculated and precise. It's an intellectual sport and forces you to make smart split-second decisions. The pieces of the puzzle clicked, and I became successful at the sport very quickly. One year into training, I won the under-10 nationals and knew I had realistic Olympic aspirations.
My Olympic dreams started during the Saturday classes at the foundation. But my dreams became a reality when I was handpicked to receive a scholarship to train at the Fencers Club in the heart of Manhattan. I had access to the best coaches at this private, prestigious, expensive fencing club -- such as the late coach and legend Buckie Leach. It's where my fencing career really took off. And it wouldn't have been possible without my scholarship. I still attended the foundation and taught fencing lessons every weekend when I wasn't training or competing.
By the time I was in middle school, I started to see how the opportunities I was given were different than other kids in my community. I didn't really tell everyone that I was a fencer. It felt like there was always too much to explain. The teachers didn't understand why I was leaving school to go to another country for competition. I was training all the time, and when I wasn't training, I was studying. My friends were all fencers. When I was 15, while a student at Stuyvesant High School, I almost made the 2008 Olympic team. My dreams started to take shape, and I became a Cadet World Champion twice. I felt like I still had so much space to mature in the sport, but I was at a place where I was contending for a spot on the Olympic team.
In 2012, I went to my first Olympic Games in London. Three years later, I won a bronze medal at the World Championships. The next year, I went to the 2016 Rio Games. I was living out my dreams. There was so much that I still wanted to accomplish for my fencing career. I checked off Stuyvesant. I checked off Columbia, where I claimed the Ivy League Rookie of the Year in 2011 and first-team All-Ivy League two years in my freshman and sophomore years. I checked off the Olympics, the first of which I competed in while in college. I was ready for the next five-, 10- and 15-year plans. I was just getting started.
But in late 2019, my hip condition escalated intensely. My right hip collapsed because of dysplasia and an abnormal joint socket alignment. I struggled to walk and had to get hip replacement surgery before the pandemic shut down everything. It was a tough loss to have such an abrupt departure from my fencing career, and I was forced to move on from competition. I felt disconnected from my past life, and I was exploring what my life was going to look like in the future.
I come from a family of Black activists and those fighting for community empowerment. My mom, who is from the island country of St. Vincent and the Grenadines, always emphasized the importance of education. No matter how successful I was in fencing, education always came first. Sport was a form of education and provided discipline, character-building and more. My mother named me after Queen Nzinga of modern-day Angola, who fought off Portuguese colonizers in the 16th century. Giving up was never an option.
After my retirement, in the summer of 2020, my mom and I were at an East Flatbush park, and we saw kids playing football and running drills for fun. And then I thought, "Oh, I could do this with fencing in the park. I can get equipment easily and start teaching." Within 1½ weeks, in the same park, I started Fencing in the Park. My mom showed me what access to resources and opportunities could do for a child's academic and athletic success. I wanted to create those same opportunities for other children.
The first summer, for six weeks, we had dozens of children show up in the park, from elementary to high school ages, and learn how to fence. This past summer, we had 65 sign-ups. And now we have the Park Program in the summer, the academy for 32 students, six school programs and a community program starting soon. Thanks to donors and fundraising efforts, I am proud to say that the program is free. There's no required costs for families.
I've developed mental endurance through fencing. I've developed resilience. Fourth-grade me knew what she wanted, and 30-year-old me still knows what she wants. And I'm accomplishing my goals.
I feel powerful. I feel capable.