I am not an old white man in football
I am not an old white man in football
In 2021, a South-Asian, Muslim found his voice in football. That's cool and uncommon. I am grateful for it.
I sat on a train to London wearing a suit as unconvincingly as any 15 or 16 year old would. A middle-aged Nigerian man sat next to me and we spoke for a while. He was going down to London to meet with his lawyer, he was getting divorced. He was cheery. He gave me some advice for the Med school interview I was on my way to.
For those who know me in 2021, it may come as a mild surprise to find out that at that time I used to have an afro that’d camouflage me as a member of the Jackson 5.
Even at that age, I was aware of how my presence was received in an utterly foreign way given my ethnicity, race and heritage. I have been mistaken for ethnicities that populate every corner of the globe but only a blind man would guess white British. I am not white, I don’t look it. I’m fine with that even if others aren’t when they see me.
When I arrived in London on that day, it was raining and as somebody from Manchester, I should’ve felt at home. I love the rain. It brings a sense of familiarity.
On this day, it was a grievance though. I had washed my afro and applied two or three products with the intention to weigh it down. My afro now lay flat on my head which the rain would’ve ruined that if I hadn’t rushed inside to buy an umbrella.
The curls were still there, looking good, I can’t straighten my hair and I wouldn’t but they were slicked down on my head in a way akin to how Shrek looked when he took the potion that made him human. It’s a bizarre comparison but it’s the most accurate one I can think of.
It was a conscious decision, to look ‘presentable,’ and ‘professional…’ to a potentially white audience of Med school interviewers.
I’ve always had an appreciation for the game of life. Nobody told me alter my non-whiteness, the (lovely) afro, but my lived experiences had informed me that in order to maximise my chances of getting a place into Med School, I had to fit the image of what the people judging me would perceive as acceptable. I could not change the system on a one off day so it was what I thought I had to do.
In my foray into the football-sphere, knowing how to play the game of life has put me in a position that is uncommon. When the year began, my profiles were entirely anonymous.
I donned a Twitter picture of Vidal and Gundogan in a contested duel. My profile name was ‘Yasiin Bey’ after one of my favourite artists, previously of the name Mos Def.
I published my first piece in March this year: Understanding Bruno Fernandes The False 10. It was a 2500+ word piece and I wrote it without much formal knowledge of what a football article should be.
I wrote about how I saw the sport, I gave my reasons, I provided ‘proof’ and wrote it in my voice. The piece garnered attention and I continued writing but again, all under the veil of Yasiin Bey and a rotation of non-face Twitter pictures.
During the Euros, I wore a Skip Bayless in an England shirt Twitter picture. Good times.
At some point, around the end of summer, I had gained a follower base I was (and am) grateful for so decided to upload a picture of my face and change my Twitter profile name to Umir. It was a thing I had wanted to do for a while and it was received fine in that moment.
In the months since, I remember why I had thought the way I did on the day of my Med school interviews. When people disagree with your (football) opinion but don’t know if you’re visibly non-white, it’s a more peaceful time.
You’re attacked in primary school insults or your argument itself is criticised. Having a South-Asian face attached to the account comes with an alternative third outcome. Thinking Mohamed Salah having an outstanding season but being second to Bernardo Silva on many occasions has resulted in a personal attack on race, ethnicity and religion. It’s just a game, lads.
At this point, I’m numb to it. I don’t read quote tweets, that’s not where constructive talk happens. There’s many people who send kind words or offer in really insightful commentary in my replies or messages. It would be a lie to say they haven’t contributed to my expanding knowledge of the sport. Good knowledge has been passed on to me irrespective of the person offering it’s follower count.
I think it would be disingenuous to think I would have been able to gain this platform to speak about the sport I love, in this time period, if I was visibly a Pakistani, Muslim from the start. Maybe that’s cynicism, maybe that’s realism.
The content will always prevail though and so for people who are starting, who do not want to hide their identity, don’t.
As time passes, I am aware that personal racist attacks are a reflection of the sad and anger in the less educated people who use them. It’s a problem across society but the anonymity online accelerates it. Twitter is not real life though. Mute non-mutual notifications, tweet what you think, write blogs, make videos. If it’s good, if you’re consistent and if you make the right connections, you’ll overcome the difficulties that being a minority bring. That journey is definitely worth it.
I’m proudly Muslim. I’m proudly Pakistani. I’m a Mancunian too. I am glad I have my name and face attributed to my account and articles because I’ve been able to continue to build this platform and have beautiful conversations with many people, in the confidence of my identity.
I encourage people to not be put off creating and speaking about things they are passionate about, for fear of racism or xenophobia. Those things exist, for sure, but the more people that enter a scene, against odds, through their ability to be engaging, entertaining or informative, the easier it gets for the next person.
Representation in a field from the wildly talented who look like people I would’ve went to school with facilitate an ever increasing confidence. Growing older, experiencing things myself also does but I cannot understate how lovely it is to see faces like your own in places they typically aren’t: Carl Anka, Raj Chohan, Sharky, Nubaid, Maramperninety, Rimedi.
In the Med school practical exams since my interview, I have unashamedly had my hair in an afro. (I have a buzzcut now but that’s just because I like the way it looks.) Growth. Life is at it’s best when you don’t feel like you have to change the great and unique things about your identity.
Racism in my messages do not influence me any which way. I’m not a white man but I know this sport.
I hope I see many more faces, irrespective of race, ethnicity or religion, find their voice in this sporting landscape next year. I did this year.
(The best player in the league this season) Bernardo Silva read my piece. I made connections with staff at the football club I’ve supported all my life. People who I’ve admired for years have said kind words to me like the ones I’ve thought watching their content; shoutout StevenMcInerney, shoutout Sharky.
I am grateful for it all. I have dealt with race and religion and the barriers people enforce in response to them but they are things I am very proud to be.
There are others who have navigated football content as women. There are people who do so whilst navigating sexuality or disability. It’s difficult. A big shoutout to them. As a man, I’m still welcomed in football. It is most men’s shared language. A non-white woman in this game? That’s an even greater challenge.
Nabeel encouraged me to write. Lyes encouraged me to put myself out there, in all forms, especially video. Hopefully this piece does a bit of the same for someone else.
Here’s to an even better 2022. Happy New Year, people.
Alhamdulilah.