Some thoughts on England, 2021

You know something? I’ve been trying to start writing this for the last couple of days now. But every time I go to start, I just stare at a white screen and ask myself whether there’s any point. I don’t really have anything new to add, nor do I even know exactly what to say. So I’m not going to worry about having anything new to add, I’m just here to write down some of the thoughts in my head, and if you find it interesting, well, that’s just an added bonus.

For a long time, I’ve struggled to identify with this:

I’m sure most of you will recognise this as Saint George’s Cross, which the English adopted as their national flag many centuries ago. Most people would feel some kind of pride when they see their country’s flag or feel safe and secure. For me, the English flag has never represented that. For me, this flag is linked to lots of the negative things that appeared following the end of the Euro 2020 final.

Now, before I continue – I know full well that not all English people are racist or anything like that, of course. I know full well that those who took to social media after the game had finished were a very small minority, and not all of them were English either. So please don’t think I’m suggesting something that isn’t true or generalising, I’m just sharing my feelings.

Anyway, as I was saying. For me, the English flag is associated with intolerance and xenophobia, with football thugs and hooligans. It’s linked with hostility and hatred and bitterness. And all of that means that I’ve never truly been able to identify with that flag, because all of those things serve to make me feel like an outsider in my own country, like I don’t belong. 

I once described myself as “English”, only to be corrected by someone. “You’re not English, you’re British.” ‘Okay then,’ I thought, kinda confused about it. Surely it’s just semantics? So I thought about it, looked into it, asked people, and finally understood what they meant. To be English was something specific in their eyes, it meant to be NATIVELY English, or in other words to be white Anglo-Saxon.

When it comes to a sporting competition, like the Euros, suddenly the English flag is hung from every window. Every trip to Facebook puts it at the top of my feed, every game on the TV has English flags flying around the stadium. Like I said, that’s something that should make me feel proud, excited even. Instead it sets off a huge internal conflict inside me, because I’m English insofar as I was born in England, and raised in England, and half my heritage comes from England. But I’m not English, because I’m not white.

So anyway, the Euros. Marcus Rashford, Bukayo Saka and Jadon Sancho went up to take a penalty for the team, something tense and high-pressure. Imagine stepping up, knowing that millions of people are watching you, and that if you manage to score, then England win their first football tournament for years. That’s a huge amount of weight on your shoulders. The three gave it a shot and missed. It happens. C’est la vie. But that wasn’t enough for some people, who instead felt that directing racially-motivated offensive comments and abuse towards the team was the way to go. 

• One “comedian” felt it necessary to tweet “all I’m saying is, the white guys scored,” before doubling down and saying “I can see that this has offended a lot of people, and I’m sorry that black guys are bad at penalties.”

• People rushed to the players’ social media accounts, leaving racist comments, monkey emojis, and other disgusting responses beneath posts

• A mural of Marcus Rashford in his hometown was defaced

• And that’s just skimming the surface.

Again, I know that not all England fans were involved in this. I’m aware it was a minority. I know that some of the abuse thrown the way of the players came from outside England too. None of that takes away from the fact that the joy of reaching the final of a tournament was replaced in an instant by the old internal battle of struggling to identify with the flag and what it represents for me.

And hey, why stop there? Let’s go on a brief tangent and visit Leicester Square, London! 

Here’s some “England fans” proving that the days of football hooligans are behind us, by… burning Italian flags… and using cones as missiles… and throwing glass bottles… which smash… and leaving all the litter behind… and forcing their way into Wembley stadium… and booing the Italian national anthem… and jeering at players briefly demonstrating the ongoing fight to stamp out racism? Sorry, I must have the wrong notes, let me just check. No, no, I’m being told – yep, that happened. Huh. Well… seems like that’s still a thing too.

So, here we are. Nothing has changed. I feel as unable as ever to associate myself with that flag, because that flag has been co-opted by people who hold values I can’t associate myself with. After a year where issues around race and ethnicity have been so prominent, the same abhorrent attitudes remain alive and well. 

If I was football, I wouldn’t want to come home either.