Social media discourse continues to surround female footballers in outspoken relationships, and therefore the debate of whether or not LGTBQ+ representation in sport is still necessary for those in society.
Voices on social media
Growing up, I didn’t have much of that representation to look to. I had Ellen and T.A.T.u – the latter of which was questionable at best, and more about shock value than genuine representation. I didn’t really have a space where I could see lots of people like me, to understand myself better. I didn’t watch women’s football.
LGBTQ+ identities have long been visible in the women’s game. Many players have been open and outspoken, whether in their personal lives or through the simple act of wearing the rainbow captain’s armband on the pitch.
In men’s football, this still isn’t the case. The fact that the rainbow armband was banned at the men’s World Cup says everything. Players were threatened with yellow cards simply for wearing a symbol of inclusion.
In the wider world, we may feel like society is progressing – and in many cases, it is – but that progress is fragile. Here in the UK, the government has introduced policies that make life harder for trans people. In sport, we’ve already seen governing bodies respond by excluding trans women from elite women’s competition.
In Hungary, the government recently enacted a law banning Pride marches and gave police powers to fine participants and identify them through facial recognition. The country rallied and staged a parade bigger than ever before in support, but that doesn’t hide the fact that it’s a real, regressive law being passed today.
Comments on social media reflect this. Posts about LGBTQ+ inclusion, photos of pride, of a loving couple’s new baby, of their marriage. Reactions show how far we still have to go, as the anonymous space enables people to show their prejudice – of all kinds – without any seeming repercussions.
Back to sports: England captain Leah Williamson and and Elle Smith have recently been confirmed to be in a relationship. So what makes them so different? On the surface, not much. They seem very happy together, sharing glimpses of their lives like any couple would. And in many ways, that’s the whole point.
There are LGTBQ+ couples who’ve been more vocal, more public, and open for much longer. This isn’t about who was first, or loudest. It’s about visibility, the power of seeing people simply existing as themselves, without fanfare.
The quiet normality of Williamson and Smith’s relationship is what makes it powerful. There has been no earth-shattering announcement. Just two people sharing their lives, albeit through a more public lens than for most.
In the UK, this moment comes off the back of a UEFA Women’s Euros that gripped the nation. More people than ever before are watching these footballers, these cultural icons. They’re now stars of the mainstream, and Leah Williamson is one of the biggest, most recognisable of them all.
She has been very vocal in her support for LGBTQ+ rights throughout her career. She isn’t necessarily making a further statement in sharing these glimpses of her life – yet it has an important impact, whatever her intentions.
Kids leaping around the living room as England lifts a trophy will also see those same heroes in perfectly normal relationships. And this generation, hopefully, will grow up knowing that some girls like girls, some boys like boys, some like both. It doesn’t need to be marvelled at. It simply just, is.
It took me a long time to admit – even to myself – that I’m gay. I didn’t come out young. I didn’t face the prejudice some do. But I hid who I was for years. And it made me angry, deeply unhappy.
Everyone’s experience is different. Some have it easier. Some have it far worse. That was just mine.
But I know this: if I had seen more people like me when I was younger – in sport, in the media, in everyday life – I would have felt less alone. I would have accepted myself sooner. And I believe I would have been happier.
I see how important LGBTQ+ representation is nowadays because I know what it was like to not have it, not really. It’s important, it’s brave to be yourself in the public eye, and it shouldn’t be dismissed.
If more representation means a young girl or boy growing up today can hopefully be happier, more free, more themselves – doesn’t that mean it still, and always, matters?
