A “gay game”: everyday homophobia and imposed heterosexuality
Do you know how many professional soccer players around the world are openly gay? And how have they been received? In 2018, the issue remains taboo and makes both players and fans uncomfortable.
Sylvain Ferez, University of Montpellier
Admittedly, recent polls have revealed that 85% of French people consider homosexuality in soccer to be “acceptable,” and several initiatives led by organizations aim to combateveryday homophobia and raise public awareness, especially since the 2018 World Cup is being held in Russia, a country considered to be particularly homophobic.
These campaigns—whether they are statements of principle or issues of public expression and language policing—do, however, have their limits. They even seem to reinforce the veneer of political correctness, leaving in the shadows a multitude of practices that persist, and whose meaning has, in the end, changed very little.
Behind a practice that presents itself as neutral and universal—in a sense, de-sexualized—lies the need to expose the deeply heterosexist culture in which it is rooted.
Rare coming-outs
In 2009, in an autobiography titled I’m the only gay soccer player. Or at least I was…, amateur soccer player Yohan Lemaire explains the unexpected cost of coming out to his teammates.
The scenario he describes corresponds to the experiences documented by North American sports sociology. It unfolds in three stages. First comes the fear of speaking out, followed by efforts to control any signs that might give him away (even going so far as to project an appearance of heterosexuality to avoid questions) in an environment perceived as extremely hostile.
Then, curiously, it is the surprise of not being excluded that prevails after the announcement—an announcement experienced as an ordeal, given the numerous signs of hatred toward homosexuality that have accumulated over time. The expected outburst of violence therefore does not materialize in the end. But heterosexist culture does not disappear for that reason, slowly leading to the self-exclusion of those who can no longer bear it…
Is this why very few players have publicly come out as gay? And why those who have done so have sometimes paid a heavy price?
"Gay" soccer players?
In May 1998, just before the World Cup, a tragic event shook the soccer world.
Justin Fashanu, considered one of the great hopes of English soccer, took his own life eight years after coming out to The Sun newspaper in an attempt to silence rumors. His announcement had the opposite effect. He quickly became a scapegoat for fans and within the professional soccer community. At Nottingham Forest, his own coach did not hesitate to echo the insults hurled by the club’s fans and call him a “dirty faggot.” He was forced to switch teams several times.
In 1998, the LGBT monthly Têtu took a satirical look at the invisibility of homosexuality in professional soccer. When, in September, “the Barthez mystery”—concerning the possible homosexuality of the French national team’s goalkeeper—made headlines, the magazine wondered whether there were “one or two rare gems” among the 22 players on the French team that had recently won the World Cup. It goes on to show that many players claim to be heterosexual by default, or simply avoid any publicity on the subject. (Têtu, No. 27, p. 7)
Desexualization
This heterosexual norm is inextricably linked to the very history of modern sports.
These activities emerged as independent pursuits, separate from other social activities, during the second half of the19th century (see The Reason for Sports by Jean-Michel Faure and Charles Suaud (2015)). The International Federation of Association Football (FIFA) was founded in 1904, followed by the French Football Federation (FFF) in 1919.
Physical engagement in the game involves a desexualization of the body, a neutralization of its erotic power. The purpose is primarily utilitarian. Contact with other bodies is instrumental. Sexuality is kept at a distance. Here, movement must be precise and effective. Collective expressions of joy (upon scoring a goal or celebrating a victory) do not change this. They rely on ritualized expressions which, from the perspective of those performing them, involve no sensuality.
In fact, if soccer hints at sexuality, it does so indirectly and obliquely, by projecting a cold, pragmatic masculinity.
This view is based on two implicit assumptions: 1) sexuality is out of the question; 2) there is no place for gay people.
That is precisely why the gay and lesbian magazine Têtu took an early stand against mainstream soccer culture by hypersexualizing top-tier soccer players and seeking to identify gay men among them.
In June 1996, Eric Cantona was featured among the icons of the “new gay generation” in the fourth issue of Têtu. This strategy of sexualization continued, not without irony, after the 1998 World Cup, where an article focused, after “Zidane’s butt” and “Barthez’s goatee,” on “Pirès’s slutty mouth” (Têtu, No. 33, April 1999).
The soccer player: that perpetually straight body
Apart from these rare media appearances, the footballer's body remains subject to heterosexual norms.
In France, Olivier Royer is the only professional soccer player to have publicly come out as gay, in 2008 at the age of 52, long after his career had ended.
His testimony follows efforts by the Paris Foot Gay (PFG) association to bring the issue of homophobia in soccer to the forefront of media attention.
Founded in December 2003, this association of soccer players brought the issue to the attention of Paris Saint-Germain (PSG) officials, who committed in 2004 to combating homophobia in the stands at the Parc des Princes.
In 2005, Vikaj Dorasso, a PSG player selected for the French national team, agreed to serve as a spokesperson for the PFG. The PFG drafted a charter against homophobia in soccer. It was signed by the president of PSG on September 5, 2007, and then by the president of the Professional Soccer League on June 8, 2008. Nine Ligue 1 and Ligue 2 clubs signed on to this charter in the months that followed.
However, on September 29, 2015, a brief statement announced the dissolution of the PFG, stating that:
“In the face of widespread indifference, the reluctance of institutions to truly commit, and the shame some feel in addressing this issue, we must face the facts: we are no longer able to make progress in our fight against homophobia.”
Paris Foot Gay/Wikipedia, CC BY
A deeply entrenched homophobic culture
Ten years after Olivier Royer came out, no other professional soccer player in France has come out as gay.
Yet we are seeing a proliferation of discourse and initiatives aimed at “combating homophobia.” Despite the growing number of official statements, issued as part of carefully orchestrated communication campaigns, something persists nonetheless, because it belongs more to the realm of the unofficial and to what is conveyed through small, everyday gestures; in short, to a culture.
Homophobic attitudes are rarely openly acknowledged. Of course, some people do occasionally make that mistake.
In October 2009, this was the case with the Créteil Bébel club, which, on the eve of a match against PFG, sent an email explaining why it refused to participate in the game:
“We’re sorry, but given your team’s name and in accordance with the principles of our team—which is made up of practicing Muslims—we cannot play against you. Our beliefs are far more important than a mere soccer match. Once again, we apologize for letting you know so late.”
The national media and elected officials quickly seized on the case, pointing to it as an example of the “rise of communitarianism.” Facing widespread criticism, the club eventually made amends… Had it not made the mistake of articulating—or expressing too clearly—a sense of discomfort and rejection that is usually expressed in less explicit ways?
Also in 2009, it was Louis Nicollin, president of Montpellier Hérault Sport Club, who found himself in the spotlight. On October 31, 2009, following the12th matchday of Ligue 1, he called Auxerre player Benoît Pedretti a “little faggot” in a TV interview. A sanction was imposed on Nicollin, who was well known for his verbal “slip-ups.” A regrettable communication error was acknowledged, attributed to his outspokenness, and an apology followed.
“Faggot shot”
Yet on soccer fields, homosexuality is far from absent. What is striking, above all, is the disconnect between its imagined ubiquity and its invisibility in reality. It thus casts a heavy shadow, insidiously established as a counter-model.
Its specter always looms as a negative force. “Faggot,” “asshole,” and “queer” inevitably characterize the other, the opponent, the one who botches a technical move (a “faggot shot”); in short, the one who fails or those who cause boredom (watching a “faggot game”).
The insult is repeated ad nauseam, out of sheer habit. When addressed, the person uttering it has, on the face of it, no sexual ulterior motive. It is simply a matter of describing the evil; in short, of subscribing to the collective designation of a negative value.
The sexuality of the person being insulted is not actually being called into question. Their heterosexuality is a cultural given, just like that of the other participants.
A way of subtly conveying what “soccer players” are supposed to be. A way, therefore, of reminding us not only of the values shared within the soccer community, but also of the sexual orientation that is supposed to embody them.
Thus, soccer—as a media fiction governed by unwritten rules, with its characters and scripts, and its players-as-performers who attempt—more or less in vain—to “control their image”—leaves little or no room for narratives that deviate from the “norm.”
Sylvain Ferez, Associate Professor of Sociology, University of Montpellier
The original version of this article was published on The Conversation.