Chileshe Chitulangoma did not grow up expecting soccer to define his life. In fact, it wasn’t even his first choice. As a little kid, football was the dream, until his parents decided the risk was too high. That single decision quietly redirected his path, one that would eventually lead him to Clemson and the United States National Paralympic stage.
His journey to this point was anything but straightforward.
Chitulangoma’s relationship with soccer began in third grade, when he started playing recreationally. The game was introduced to him through his father, who is from Zambia, where soccer is deeply knitted into everyday life. While the sport was always around him, it wasn’t his first choice. Football initially caught his attention, until his parents stepped in and decided the risks were too high. That decision, small at the time, quietly redirected the course of his life.
Chitulangoma’s introduction to Paralympic soccer was anything but ordinary. “I saw the team in an Instagram advertisement, but I didn’t think much of it,” he said. “Then I saw a second one, a year later, again on Instagram, and that’s when I actually looked into what it took to qualify.”
After seeing that second advertisement, the Rochester native sent his film to the coaching staff. They told him he was exactly the type of defensive player they were looking for and invited him to his first national team camp in 2022, when he was just 18 years old.
That early call-up brought an immediate reality check, one that still shapes how he approaches the game.
“There’s good players all over the place,” Chitulangoma said. “You just have to focus on improving yourself as much as possible.”
With that level of experience already behind him, arriving at the country’s only collegiate Paralympic soccer program felt like a natural next step. Being coached by Felipe Tobar only strengthened that fit. When asked why Clemson stood out, Chitulangoma pointed to more than just soccer.
“Being able to go down south is great,” he said. “I’ve always wanted a new experience and warmer weather. Ever since I came here, I felt like I was meant to be here. I found my people quickly, and I think I found the right fit.”
Balancing soccer with academics has required just as much discipline as anything Chitulangoma has faced on the field. As a mechanical engineering major, time management isn’t optional, it’s survival.
“A lot of it comes down to discipline,” he said. “You have to advocate for yourself. Not everyone immediately understands your situation.”
That reality is compounded by the fact that Clemson’s Paralympic soccer program exists in a gray area. While many professors have been supportive on an individual level, the program does not receive the same institutional recognition as a Division I varsity sport.
“In some aspects we’re recognized, and in others we’re not,” Chitulangoma explained. “Technically, they don’t have to accommodate us the way they would a Division I athlete.”
Still, navigating those challenges has shaped how he views setbacks, especially for those watching from the outside. When asked what he would want a kid dealing with their own obstacles to take away from his story, Chitulangoma kept it simple.
“Don’t let anyone define what you can and can’t do,” he said. “If no one else believes in you, believe in yourself. And find at least one other person who believes in you too.”
Being a Paralympic athlete, for Chitulangoma, extends far beyond simply playing the game. What separates the experience is the connection, one built on shared realities that aren’t always evident to the public.
“It’s about the unspoken things,” he said. “The fact that we’re all connected by an uncommon struggle is special. There’s a relatability factor that other people don’t have with us.”
That shared understanding creates a bond that goes beyond tactics or results, grounding the team in something deeper than soccer alone.
That shared bond is also what many people misunderstand when they think about Paralympic athletes. For Chitulangoma, the disconnect often comes from how performance is judged from the outside.
“Fundamentally, our sports are different,” he said. “If you gave a top athlete a disability, how would they perform? Would they perform the same way? How would their disability affect them? It’s something you can’t really measure.”
Rather than fitting into a single definition, Paralympic soccer exists across a spectrum, one that challenges the simplified images many people carry with them.
For Chitulangoma and the Paralympic community, the definition of a Paralympic athlete is far broader than it is often stereotyped to be.
“There’s a direct image in people’s minds of what someone with cerebral palsy looks like, maybe someone who’s wheelchair-bound, but that’s not necessarily correct,” he said. “It’s a disability that exists on a spectrum. Some people might never even know, and some people do need extra assistance. Most people just categorize it into a box, and that’s not the case.”
Looking ahead, his goals remain both personal and collective. Graduating comes first. Beyond that, he hopes to help solidify Clemson’s Paralympic program into something sustainable and internationally recognized as a place where athletes from around the world can come to train, compete, and belong. On a personal level, he wants to win trophies, travel, and continue expanding the reach of disability soccer wherever the game takes him.
For Chitulangoma, success has little to do with titles or recognition. He wants to be remembered as a leader, someone who showed up, worked hard, and helped move the sport forward.
“Whether or not I ever become a captain doesn’t matter,” he said. “I just want to be remembered as a leader or a pioneer. There’s still so much room for this sport to grow.”
Soccer is no longer just a game for Chitulangoma. It is opportunity, responsibility, and proof that the path forward doesn’t need to look like anyone else’s to be meaningful.
