CW: Discussion of sexual assault
My childhood was all about the Swannies. For 15 years, we went to almost every home game. I knew every player’s name and number, went to fan days for photos and autographs, and spent weekends revolving around the footy.
This was, of course, before the AFLW existed, not that it fazed me back then. Who knew a professional women’s competition was even possible? My love for the game was pure and passionate, and I had no reason to believe the men I looked up to might not be the heroes they were made out to be.
Growing up in a rugby league city, much of the scandal surrounding AFL clubs and players wasn’t really on my radar. For a long time, I had little understanding of the violence, misogyny, queerphobia and racism that can exist within the game, let alone in the networks of power that help sustain it.
Those networks stretch from the disproportionately private-school pathways through which players enter the game to the upper levels of business, media, sport and politics. Again and again, we see how power and proximity can protect people from facing real-world consequences.
We see it when men with serious histories of violence or abuse are welcomed back into the institutions of the game, celebrated or given prominent platforms. Ex-AFL player Stephen Milne had to be pulled from an AFL Legends Game raising funds for prostate cancer after organisers received backlash against his participation due to his previous indecent assault charge and multiple alleged rape charges, which were later withdrawn. The CEO of the AFL had to personally intervene to block Wayne Carey, a former player with a history of domestic violence allegations, from being honoured as a legend in the NSW Football Hall of Fame. Meanwhile, Ben Cousins, despite having a history that includes serving jail time for stalking his ex-partner, continues to be offered prominent media roles.
When men are upheld in this way, it sends a message that hurts women deeply: that this behaviour is not considered as unacceptable as these organisations insist it is in their carefully constructed statements and initiatives. Too often, consequences appear temporary, while rehabilitation back into the spotlight is almost guaranteed.
As women and minorities within the AFL community know too well, it can feel like it’s only a matter of time before you are let down again by the actions of extraordinarily privileged men you have invested so much time, energy and passion in supporting. With every disappointment, that love for the game becomes a little harder to hold on to.
The Swans standing down five players following the alleged assault on 17 August is an important first step, but it is also the bare minimum. How the club handles what happens next will significantly affect how I support the men’s team going forward.
I feel for the rest of the team as they deal with the fallout. But with every incident like this, the men’s game becomes less deserving of my time. It can earn that trust back by demonstrating that accountability means more than waiting for the headlines to disappear, and by refusing to sweep serious behaviour under the rug before allowing those involved a heroic return a year or two later.
Thankfully, it’s also the beginning of the AFLW season.
For so long, women and gender-diverse people were denied a professional league of their own. Even now, AFLW players contend with glaring disparities in everything from promotion and investment to average pay. Those inequalities do not exist separately from the culture we see in the men’s game. They are products of the same deeply ingrained misogyny that has too often excused, minimised or overlooked violence and disrespect towards women.
There is something genuinely relieving about watching a game without wondering which player might next be exposed, or why someone whose behaviour has already been exposed is still being celebrated.
When I watch the AFLW, some of that uncomplicated childhood love for footy starts to creep back in.
I wish I’d had the AFLW growing up. But it brings me enormous comfort knowing this generation of kids does – and that they have a whole new generation of sporting heroes to look up to.
If I were in Sydney this weekend, I’d absolutely be showing up for them and walking out before the men’s game, as others are planning to do.
Up the dub.