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Maybe we’re ready, and maybe we’re not. Maybe you’re ready, and maybe you’re not. After the past couple of weeks, I’m hoping none of that really matters.
Who am I talking to? Well, you… the soon-to-be first openly gay AFL footballer.
Maybe you’re reading this in your local nail salon while getting your weekly mani-pedi, or listening to your Lady Gaga albums as you colour-code your ridiculously oversized wardrobe.
Or maybe stereotypes are rubbish and you’re just a young man who loves playing footy, is attracted to other men and hates The Real Housewives of Atlanta just as much as the rest of us self-appointed ‘normal’ blokes.
I want to talk to you about ignorance, about strength, about courage and about timing.
I’ve been lucky enough to meet Nicky Winmar on a few occasions and speak to him personally about the issue of racism in the AFL. Nicky, as you know, is the man who took a stand.
Before Nicky, decades of abuse went by with no more than a whimper. Cable, Jackson, Farmer, Krakouer, Rioli… the names are synonymous with football’s elite, but these men were treated like animals by many. Maybe they fought back every now and then, had a wrestle, pissed in a teammate’s shampoo bottle, fired back a retort to an opposition supporter.
But it wasn’t until 1993, when Winmar pulled up his jumper and pointed to his skin that things began to change.
It didn’t happen overnight. That moment was the first step in a sometimes painful, often slow process to outlawing racial vilification.
Just two years after Nicky’s stand, Damien Monkhorst was named and shamed by Michael Long, followed by one of the more awkward press conferences and forced handshakes you’ll ever see.
In 2011 Gold Coast Sun Joel Wilkinson was named to play his first game, only to have that memory ruined by Western Bulldog Justin Sherman.
Of course, it all came full circle two weeks ago.
A young girl uttered a few little words, and seconds later the football world came to a grinding halt.
Adam Goodes broke the fourth wall. The girl was evicted. Goodes left the ground, clearly distressed. Bruce McAvaney’s voice exhibited genuine concern. Eddie McGuire did the right thing at the right time, before completely screwing up a few days later.
In his post-match press conference John Longmire stood up for Goodes, maybe an easy option, but not the only option. 25 years ago there was no sign of support in such instances.
Twitter caught alight with tributes from the football fraternity – Matthew Pavlich, James Kelly, Joel Selwood, all stood tall for a man fighting a battle they could never truly understand.
I’m not Indigenous. I’m not gay. I’ve lived my life as a white male, average height, average weight, slotted somewhere in the lower middle class of Australia. Sure, there have been moments I’d rather forget, but it’s impossible for me to understand the impact such words can have on someone, pointed at their race – something Indigenous people are proud of, but expected to be ashamed of by many.
In hindsight, Goodes couldn’t have handled the situation any better. He halted the lynch mob which had already started gathering pitchforks and torches in pursuit of a 13 year old. He explained why it hurt, why it made him react with such disbelief. He spoke openly with the media, and he stood up for his people at a time when it would have been easier to just walk away.
The last part is the most important. The strength Goodes showed to take a stand that night took courage and pride. Had it been a young player in his position, that player may have just kept running. Instead he went public, and the football world stood alongside him.
Doing such a thing is not the norm. Be it race, religion, appearance, disability, or sexual orientation, there are people copping discrimination every day who find it easier to keep running.
The AFL Players’ Association recently launched a campaign against the use of homophobic language in football. Some big names spoke out: Jobe Watson, Lenny Hayes, Luke Ball. Some small names too, like Matt Spangher, the guy you’ve probably never heard of who wanted to take a stand for his gay sister, as did Carlton midfielder Brock McLean.
NBA basketball veteran Jason Collins came out in April. He sat down with an experienced, trustworthy journalist and opened his heart in a piece titled ‘I’m a 34 year old NBA center. I’m black and I’m gay’. He talked about fear of exclusion, personal denial, about waiting for the right time.
Collins is still alive. He hasn’t been struck by lightning, he’s likely to get another contract in the NBA. Kobe Bryant, Barack Obama, Bill Clinton, NBA Commissioner David Stern… none could have been more supportive of Collins after the announcement.
There will always be the idiots, the Neanderthals, or those who hide their prejudice behind religion. There will always be politicians too scared to do the right thing for fear of losing their position.
Those people aren’t going away, and neither should you.
Being gay is not a choice, it just is. Just like I didn’t choose to have bad knees or a hairy chest or a silky smooth jump shot. Just like you didn’t choose to be a redhead, or a great singer, or short, or have that birthmark under your left armpit.
Nor is it a negative thing. It’s just a thing.
There are footballers who do drugs, there are footballers who study computer science, some who love the NBA, others who will eventually be coaches. There are some from single-parent families and others from strong footballing backgrounds. There are also some AFL footballers who are homosexual, and plenty of those likely fit into more than one of the above groups as well.
So why do we need you to come out? Well, we don’t. But there are people out there who do.
There’s a 15 year old kid who just quit footy because he was confused about his feelings. There’s another who hates going to training because he hears the words ‘gay’ or ‘fag’ or ‘poofta’ thrown about in exchange for weak or soft.
Suicide in Australia is highest among young homosexual males and Indigenous youth, often struggling to come to terms with being different and the ridicule that ensures.
Maybe you can’t take a physical stand like Nicky Winmar or Adam Goodes.
I’m not sure I’d ever possess the amount of courage it will take for you to come forward, to ignore the Jason Akermanises of the world, to tune out the hate, to answer hundreds of questions about your private life, to deal with the media circus that will follow.
But I’m hoping you’ll take strength from Adam Goodes, John Longmire, Luke Ball, Nicky Winmar, maybe even this column, in realising that while there will always be those who would prefer we lived in a world where everybody looked, dressed, acted and danced the same, there are also those that want equality, fairness and the freedom to be unique.
Be the first, take the stand, show your strength and your pride. If we aren’t ready in a time of Will & Grace, Omar Little, the purple Teletubby, Bob Brown and Jason Collins… when will we be?
Maybe we’re not all ready. But I hope, and I think, that you’re ready enough for all of us.
Ryan Daniels writes and podcasts about AFL and Fantasy Football on his website Footy Rhino, where this column originally appeared. He’s on Twitter @FootyRhino.
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