Why can you not just support human rights? What is the problem?
Those were my first reactions when UEFA refused to light the Allianz Arena in rainbow colours before Germany’sEuro 2020 match against Hungary, citing the “political context”. Later, it banned rainbow ads at two of the quarter-finals. Then, I saw the scenes from Baku, where security appeared to confiscate a rainbow flag from two Denmark supporters.
I am a proud gay athlete and am in a relationship with my Chelsea team-mate Pernille Harder. We are among the most visible gay couples in the women’s game. When my country, Sweden, beat Canada in the last 16 of the Women’s World Cup two years ago, I found Pernille in the stands at the Parc des Princes and kissed her. We didn’t even know anyone was watching but a photo of us went viral. Only then did we understand how powerful we are together, the impact we can make.
The Euros provided such a huge platform for UEFA to put its foot down, making it clear that all lives are equal and that human rights are not up for debate. But all this makes me think — does this mean that my life is worth less than someone else’s? Than someone who is living the norm, living a different lifestyle? Are they more worthy than me just because of who I’m in love with?
In the past few weeks, I’ve been trying to read a lot about the other side’s views and trying to understand the controversy. Why couldn’t they just show the rainbow colours? Why is that considered political? Human rights shouldn’t ever be political but the problem is that, historically, we have allowed them to become so. There are countries where gay rights are just common sense and we need to spread the message that human rights should be accepted everywhere.
While I was researching, I found lots of people arguing that sports and politics shouldn’t be combined, and footballers shouldn’t be activists — and it’s not just in England, nor is it just about the rainbow flag. In my home country, lots of people also hold the view that footballers should just stick to football. There are lots of views on what athletes should and shouldn’t do when everyone else on the street is allowed their opinions.
Footballers taking the knee have faced criticism all season, especially in the build-up to the Euros. As footballers, our activism ranges fromthe work of Marcus Rashford in changing lawsto people like Romelu Lukaku andRaheem Sterling standing up against racism, and in doing so, helping to form young children’s views on right and wrong. Pernille and I are part of Common Goal and pledge one per cent of our incomes to a charity that is helping LGBTQ+ youth in sport.
But none of this is about politics. It’s about challenging perceptions and views, changing how we treat each other, deciding what’s OK and what isn’t. If you want to call that politics, fine, but then, in my view, everything is then politics. You can’t put a finger on what’s politics and what’s not.
One of the questions I kept coming back to was, “What difference does it make to have a footballer as an activist?” I don’t think the critics understand the impact we have on individual’s lives.
For the millions of kids following footballers all over the world, how we act and what we say matters deeply to them. I have amazing social media followers who write to me constantly and I have always felt a responsibility to speak up for them and protect them. Right now, with the rainbow flag controversy descending into a discussion about human rights, I feel that responsibility more than ever.
On Valentine’s Day, Pernille and I opened our private messages on social media for those who are struggling to tell their friends and their families that they are gay. It took us a few days to get back to all the messages but we wanted to make a difference — a real difference. We know that being open helps people but we could do more, too.
I could feel what an impact it had. So many people just wanted to have a chat and just talk to someone. It made you realise what we are doing. We help people all over the world feel more secure about themselves and just accept themselves for who they are. It inspired me to keep going because you realise how much being yourself means to people who can’t, for whatever reason, be themselves.
Even if I don’t change anything on a big political stage, the possibility of making one person’s life a little bit easier means that being an activist is 100 per cent worth it. I know how much it means to our fans that Pernille and I are open about our sexuality, showing the world that our relationship is normal and should be accepted. It’s always been really important for me to stand up for what I stand for and keep my integrity. If I want to have my say, nothing will stop me from doing that. I have my platform and I want to use it.
But the bigger question is: are human rights even a political question? I don’t believe that they should be. Of course it should be acceptable to stand up for human rights. In my head, that’s a non-issue. It’s bizarre. It’s not about being political at all but so many countries have laws that make it so.
Pernille and I saw the news last month that the Hungarian parliament passed new anti-LGBTQ+ legislation criminalising education and advertising of LGBTQ+ content to young people. There have been other regressive laws in Russia and Poland. It’s frightening, plain and simple. Society isn’t always moving forward and taking new steps.
And it’s like that in a lot of places in the world. Still, to this day in 2021, it’s not accepted in the world for me to love the person I love. How can it be OK to have a rainbow flag or rainbow advertisement in Denmark but not in Hungary or Azerbaijan? That’s why it’s really important that we raise our voices now and we say that all this is not OK.
It’s not about a political question — it is about human rights, and human rights should be the same all across the world. That is my dream and if anyone goes away from it, it should be an outrage.
It scares me because in London, Pernille and I are allowed to be out and proud. People, however they identify, write to us that they cannot be open with their sexuality. Even if you live in Sweden or England, it is still tough to come out; there is still a process of telling people about your sexuality.
Even in the most accepting environment, it’s still so difficult. Imagine it as a sliding scale, with coming out ranging from difficult to impossible. For those in countries where it’s illegal — I can’t even imagine how that would feel.
Those people who tell us to stick to football also overlook the impact the sport can have in changing views and mindsets. It is a wonderful tool to show everyone that no matter your skin colour, background or sexuality, you’re welcome here.
For me, that’s what the rainbow flag stands for — that diversity, and everyone, is accepted. It’s worth remembering that only seven or eight years ago you never saw a rainbow flag in football. Now you see captains wearing rainbow armbands and I saw some of the England players wearing rainbow laces for their game against Ukraine last week.
We need football to push for diversity, equality and anti-discrimination in all its forms. Hopefully, football will one day become an environment where a male player feels comfortable enough to come out and tell the world that he is gay but that can only happen when the environment around that person is safe enough, and that moment is clearly not now.
It has become very obvious during these Euros that we have a long way to go and I’d never put any pressure on any individual when the environment is like this. Can anyone look at the environment and think that our work is done — that football doesn’t have a role to play in making a change?
Women’s football is far more open and accepting when it comes to sexuality, but we do talk in the canteen and the dressing room about what needs to change in men’s football for someone to come out. Pernille and I care about it a lot, so we are always asking questions of each other and other people.
And we know that it is scary — every time you speak out, you know that there is going to be a backlash. You have to remember the other side, the people that will praise you and be thankful for what you’re doing. But the hate threats, which we see all over social media, are real and a reminder that you are taking a risk in speaking out.
But for me, the reward is higher than the risk. I want to spread my message and I want to normalise the values that I have, regardless of whether people agree with me or not. The world would be a better place if people were more accepting and diverse.
