As of Wednesday night’s semi-final, England is one game away from potentially making history at this year’s UEFA European Football Championships (Euro 2024). The upcoming final follows England’s young Black players leading a flawless penalty shootout win against Switzerland last weekend, and Ollie Watkins’ late goal to win the match on Wednesday night. Watching the Euros this year has made me realise that I cannot think of a time in my life when I was not football-obsessed.
I grew up watching football with my dad, supporting Arsenal as a Black Londoner, and played football for my girls’ school team. When the school disbanded the team when I was 13 (stating that it was “distracting us from our education” despite allowing the boys’ team to play), football stopped being a source of exercise and entertainment and began to play a role in my political education.
While the sport formed such a huge part of my childhood, I’ve reached a place in my life where I have to engage with football selectively, which I find frustrating. As a very politically and socially aware Black woman, the culture and spaces that surround football (especially men’s football) make it harder to enjoy the sport and feel like I belong.
I am often envious of my friends (many of them men) who can be so passionate about football without seemingly being affected by the racism and sexism that is embedded within its culture. At a time when we are seeing domestic and international politics play out in football clubs around the world — see: the rise in anti-immigrant sentiment whenever England plays terribly — it feels like a privilege to watch football and remain apolitical.
Black football players make up a significant 43% of the English Premier League yet they face ongoing and blatant anti-Black racism and discrimination during matches. In the men’s game, both in England and overseas, players are frequently subjected to racist images and slurs from fans; they’ve had bananas thrown at them and had to endure monkey chants from taunting crowds. A recent, glaring example of this was when Vinícius Júnior, a Brazilian player for Real Madrid, admitted to “losing his desire” to play in the face of persistent and prolonged abuse from fans during his time at the Spanish club. During a press conference, Vinícius Júnior responded in the best way possible to questions about racism, stating he was “not a victim of racism but a tormentor of racists”. Despite the landmark conviction of three Valencia fans who racially abused him, I still believe the industry continues to let him and other Black players down.
Many Black players have spoken out in solidarity with Vinícius Júnior, including Real Madrid and England midfielder Jude Bellingham, who said in a recent press conference: “It is disgusting. It shouldn’t happen. The people in power need to do more.” While Black players speaking out is fantastic, addressing racism in football should not be their responsibility — the onus lies with football associations, executives, non-Black players, fans and the wider industry. In my opinion, players should mobilise beyond speaking out and use their power and social currency to organise direct action, even if that means taking the controversial step of refusing to play entirely. Footballers and clubs have previously used social media boycotts and strikes to send a clear message that racism will no longer be tolerated on or off the pitch. This sort of direct action must continue if it is to have a lasting impact. There are only so many times Black players can make anti-racist statements before it starts to take a toll on their health and wellbeing.
My valid critiques are met with scoffs from football fans who tell me to just ‘watch women’s football!’ but this does not solve the problems at hand.
Following England’s quarter-final win over Switzerland on 6th July, which featured a late equaliser from Bukayo Saka and subsequent penalty shootout involving Saka and other young Black players including Bellingham, Trent Alexander-Arnold and Ivan Toney, people quickly began to attribute the team’s success in the tournament to its Black players. This was only furthered by Ollie Watkins’ match-winning goal in the semi-final. It was a far cry from the final of Euro 2020, when three of England’s Black footballers missed penalties that would have secured victory and as a result were subjected to relentless racist abuse from so-called fans online. Many have since seized the opportunity to remind the British public that without immigration, the current England team wouldn’t exist. However, I would argue that it forces a lot of Black British people to reckon with the fact that these players have to guarantee a win if they are to avoid racial abuse. For me, this isn’t something to celebrate.
Despite this, it’s hard not to be drawn into the expectant atmosphere surrounding England’s Euro 2024 campaign. Like many Black women who are football fans, I have followed the buzz around Tolami Benson, Bukayo Saka’s new girlfriend, who Metro declared is “redefining the British WAG”. Benson is arguably one of the first Black British WAGs to capture national attention and for Black women, like me, she is a breath of fresh air. There is often unspoken tension between Black women and the Black football players we have been forced to defend for years. While it is not for us to tell anyone who to love, the resentment becomes clearer when we try to have open discussions with Black men online, asking why Black footballers seemingly do not date or go on to marry people who look like them. We are gaslighted to believe that we are making this up (although a quick scroll of Black players’ social media pages would reveal very quickly that this argument has substance). It would be disingenuous not to acknowledge that it can cause animosity among Black women who want to engage with premiership football. After all, how can Black women love football when they feel that the players don’t love them back?
My valid critiques are met with scoffs from football fans who tell me to just “watch women’s football!” but this does not solve the problems at hand. As much as we have seen the women’s game blossom, I’ve had to unlearn the internalised misogyny that prevented me from watching it as a young girl. These days I primarily watch women’s football yet the issues of misogyny and especially misogynoir have not disappeared.
Women’s football still experiences less funding and viewership compared to the men’s game, despite the Lionesses being the most successful national team in England’s football history. When England’s women won the 2022 Euros, it was the first time this country had won any silverware since the men’s team won the World Cup in 1966. However, my celebrations were interrupted when I noticed the lack of Black women on the field and in the stadium.
The realisation that women’s football isn’t a utopia for Black football fans and players became clear when Eniola Aluko, a Nigerian footballer and broadcaster, filed a report with an independent barrister against former England coach Mark Sampson for anti-Black discrimination. In October 2017, Aluko also accused the Football Association (FA) of not taking her concerns seriously and described its behaviour as “bordering on blackmail” to protect its reputation. When it was learned that Aluko accepted an £80,000 payout from the FA, some treated it as an admission of falsehood. Unlike Vinícius Júnior, however, Aluko faced the inevitable fate of all Black women — it would be mostly other Black women who came out to defend her. We saw Black male players such as ex-goalkeeper David James seemingly accuse Aluko of lying, and her mixed-race teammate Nikita Parris (along with other members of the England squad) embrace Sampson after scoring a goal, sending a clear message of betrayal to Aluko and Black women in the sport.
How much more powerful would that moment have been — not just for Black women but for women’s sport — had any of those footballers publicly stood up for her? Frustratingly, this is not just an issue of the past. Aluko still faces criticism and anti-Black racism as a pundit, and she’s not alone: Mixed-race broadcaster Alex Scott has previously shared that racist and misogynistic social media trolling left her “scared for [her] life”.
I am so tired of having to navigate watching football with weariness and unease. A big part of my interaction with football now is googling players and football clubs’ reputations for problematic histories. This is why I have never been to a match, and why many of my male friends refuse to take me to one because they want to protect me (and because they know I would call it out and probably get myself into a fight). As long as sexist and racist chants remain widespread among fans, I find it very difficult to support a team and its players.
These issues don’t just arise at football matches. Online spaces like “Football Twitter” are notorious for vicious trolling and varying forms of discriminatory abuse under the guise of “banter”, meanwhile the British tabloid media has its own role to play in upholding racist attitudes and discrimination towards players. It is particularly visceral for Black women who challenge the abuse online only to receive abusive private messages and racial harassment.
It is also hard to ignore the recurring news stories regarding premiership footballers and accusations of sexual assault. In 2022, Manchester United footballer Mason Greenwood was charged with attempted rape, assault and coercive control by his pregnant girlfriend, who had shared horrifying pictures of her bruises to Instagram. The charges were later dropped.
Despite widespread condemnation of Greenwood, Manchester United considered bringing him back into the team, even using the club’s women’s team to help make their decision for them. They eventually loaned him to Spanish football club Getafe and are still looking to sell him during this summer’s transfer window. Greenwood’s case is just the tip of the iceberg. Allegations of sexual assault against high-profile footballers frequently appear in the media, only to disappear as quickly as they surfaced.
And while watching the women’s game makes it easier, I fear that any football allegiance can foster within us a tolerance of greed, homophobia, racism, misogyny, discrimination and sexual violence against women.
For social and moral progress to continue in the footballing world, we must take stock of our own behaviours and make uncomfortable decisions about how we interact with the sport. For me personally, this includes refusing to watch club football and only engaging with it selectively at international tournaments.
I have reached a place where I can only watch the game with zero allegiance to a team; I am not supporting any club, I watch football purely out of love for the game. Happily, there are people like Anita and Bree, cofounders of Goal Diggers podcast, who have moulded safe spaces where Black women can engage with football without fear of being pushed out.
I still love football and I’m looking forward to the final on Sunday. I can only hope real change happens and the world of football steps up to meet us where we are.
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