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Una Mullally: Why it’s easier for female footballers to come out

Men’s game – and men’s sport in general – is ignoring an obvious example to learn from

I’m sure Jake Daniels, the teenage footballer for Blackpool who came out as gay last week, didn’t envisage his career as being one of an accidental activist. I would imagine he just wanted to play. But activism, so often, comes to people, rather than them gravitating towards it.

Being the lone openly gay professional footballer in Britain right now creates the perception that Daniels is carrying the weight of his sport on his shoulders. But he pointed to the weight that lifted when he made the decision to live authentically and truthfully. Daniels said that the day after he came out to his family, he scored four goals in a match against Accrington Stanley, “so it just shows how much of a weight off the shoulders it was”.

Men's football remains culturally homophobic. If it wasn't, then what are probably thousands of male gay and bisexual professional footballers worldwide wouldn't feel the need to hide their authentic selves

“I am hoping that by coming out I can be a role model, to help others come out if they want to,” Daniels said, “I am only 17 but I am clear that this is what I want to do and if, by me coming out, other people look at me and feel maybe they can do it as well, that would be brilliant. If they think: ‘This kid is brave enough do this, I will be able to do it too’.”

Good on him. Saying things like “why should it matter?” often equates to “I don’t want to hear it.” It would be great if these things didn’t matter, but they do, because men’s football remains culturally homophobic. If it wasn’t, then what are probably thousands of male gay and bisexual professional footballers worldwide wouldn’t feel the need to hide their authentic selves.

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In Ireland – a very different social context to Britain when it comes to equality – Bohemians FC will become the first League of Ireland club to march in Pride in June. This is not a gimmick; the club has partnered with the group ShoutOut to hold workshops for coaches and staff on LGBTQ+ inclusion. Fair play.

Role models in football have a huge impact. For example, in a study funded by Stanford and the Immigration Policy Lab, titled “Can Exposure to Celebrities Reduce Prejudice? The Effect of Mohamed Salah on Islamophobic Behaviours and Attitudes”, the authors studied the impact of Mo Salah, a footballer with Liverpool, on fans of that club, and on the city more generally. After Salah joined Liverpool, hate crimes in the Liverpool area dropped by 19 per cent.

In analysing 15 million tweets from British soccer fans, the study found that Liverpool fans halved their rates of posting anti-Muslim tweets relative to fans of other top-flight clubs. “An original survey experiment suggests that the salience of Salah’s Muslim identity enabled positive feelings towards Salah to generalise to Muslims more broadly,” the study says.

An LGBT activist in the United States once gave me a great piece of advice when I was asking for insight on how to move progress beyond activism and protest to change in the political arena, where those with power were dawdling on LGBT rights issues. He said: show them what’s working well, and where, and how can we do more of that? It’s such a simple piece of advice. Focusing on positive, tangible examples doesn’t just give policymakers and gatekeepers a motivation to achieve success. Observing where things are functioning well offers proven methods, tactics and lessons, so people don’t waste time reinventing the wheel trying to replicate the results.

We're told 'football is so homophobic'. But it's not. Not for women. The same goes for rugby. The same goes for boxing. The same goes for countless sports

So why then is the glaring example of successfully tackling homophobia in football – or, more accurately, the existence of a footballing environment that is not homophobic by default – rarely referenced when it comes to kicking homophobia out of football? I’m talking, of course, about women’s football. Because when people discuss the “problem” or “issue” of homophobia in football, what they’re really talking about is the issue of male homophobia in men’s football. Of course there is homophobia in women’s football too, but it is much less widespread, and there are countless out queer female professional and amateur footballers (and plenty of other athletes) operating at the highest level, including some of the most famous female footballers ever, such as Megan Rapinoe.

What if the homophobic culture Daniels is shattering by coming out, isn’t about football, or even sexuality, but is actually about gender? Or more specifically, about an insecure strand of performative male masculinity that constantly tries to assert itself as macho while ironically demonstrating fragility? What if the broader “issue” is actually distorted gender norms and expectations, not sexual identities?

We’re told “football is so homophobic”. But it’s not. Not for women. The same goes for rugby. The same goes for boxing. The same goes for countless sports. So I wonder, why is men’s football – and men’s sport, more generally – ignoring a glaringly obvious example to learn from? Daniels will make a difference as an individual, but what efforts is the collective culture making to address things systemically? And if women’s football has already apparently addressed homophobia with much greater success, why not examine why female players and fans are less uptight and more mature when it comes to this issue?