Women’s football is bigger than ever before, but with that growth comes the amplification of the sport’s uglier side.
Manchester City’s Khadija Shaw was the victim of racist and misogynistic abuse after their loss against Arsenal in early February. The club released a statement on her behalf, condemning the abuse she received and publicly expressing their support for her. With City playing Arsenal again later that same week in a League Cup tie, Shaw chose not to play, prioritising her mental health and stepping away from the sport, if not for a brief period, to protect herself.
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During a match between Barça Femení and Espanyol, Barcelona defender Mapi León was accused of racism and transphobia after a clip of her and Daniela Caracas began circulating online. Espanyol released a statement shortly after the internet caught wind of what had happened, expressing their support for Caracas, but also revealing that she had been the target of an internet pile-on following the viral clip, receiving abusive messages online as if she was the aggressor. León released her own statement via the club, denying the accusations and even threatening legal action against anyone defaming her name. With two club statements contradicting each other, the incident has hit a roadblock, unable to move forward without accountability being taken, or even a statement from the league. The cases of Shaw and Caracas may seem like one-off, unrelated incidents for many, but they are isolated moments that paint a much bigger picture. Football is not the safe space it claims to be, especially for Black women. The history of dark skin being considered masculine has had a negative impact on the Black community for centuries. It heavily fuels colourist ideals and transphobic language when it comes to Black women – language that is often present when people talk about Black women in football. Football is a contact sport, and one that requires a certain level of physicality and aggression on and off the ball from all players. However, when you pay attention to the players that get called out for being too aggressive, too physical, too intimidating in the women’s game, it’s hard not to notice a trend in skin tone and body shape. They are almost always darker than the standard Anglo-Saxon complexion the sport has considered as a baseline. They pack more muscle than their peers. Some are taller than most of their teammates and opponents. All of this boils down to genetics, and yet those genes that a player cannot change, are used as weapons against them – a sorry rationale for racist, transphobic symbols and language to be hurled at them whenever society feels they’ve stepped out of line. {*} This reality is what makes the Caracas incident and the treatment she received from the public so much more sinister. If she looked different – lighter with Eurocentric features – would people be so quick to disprove her experience? Would she be victimised at all?
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Barbra Banda was the target of an aggressively racist and transphobic internet tirade following her deserved BBC Women’s Footballer of the Year win. Rather than the announcement being met with congratulations, the majority of people found it more important to question her womanhood as a way to discredit her achievements. Tabitha and Temwa Chawinga are two of the best players to come out of Africa in recent years. There is no denying their talent and skill on the pitch, but there are always those that can’t help but try. Tabitha has shared stories of her early playing days and repeatedly having to undress to prove that she was a girl – a humiliation and violation of privacy that nobody should have to endure, let alone a child.
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At the end of the day, these are professional athletes. With that comes years of conditioning, exercise and strength training to ensure they remain at the top of their game, but that knowledge seems to fly out of the window where Black women are concerned. Instead of seeing them as the elite athletes they are, some people have accused them of being men, asking how it’s fair for these players to go up against other women each week. White and lighter-skinned Black players are very rarely faced with these allegations. When white players face abuse, they are wholly supported. When it’s a Black player experiencing racism, suddenly the situation is nuanced with people struggling to pick sides and express full support. Suddenly clubs, leagues, federations and players lose the ability to speak up for their peers. {*}
The inability to wholeheartedly call out racist abuse is stifling any progress women’s football can make towards creating a safe environment for Black women. Across the sport’s biggest leagues, the pitches and the stands are still predominantly white. The lacklustre attempts at condemning racism from clubs and leagues are not helping to change that. Taking a knee before WSL matches and vaguely calling out racist abuse with no consequences or sanctions is simply not enough. How many more players have to suffer before real changes are made to protect them?
— Simi Iluyomade, 19 February 2025
