When I was younger I went to dancing lessons and when I used to compete as a tap soloist in competitions my teacher always used to say to me that I had to listen to the music (big band swing numbers) and find the light and shade in both it and in the rhythm I made with my feet. The contrast, the loud and soft sounds that complimented each other and made the other stand out and be more noticeable. I have come to take and apply this skill to my motherhood escapades. It is so easy and tempting especially when our children stop being exclusively children and start to traverse the lines in between youngsters and young adulthood.They have found their voices and they are getting so good at using them to verbalise their views on life. It’s easy to turn the volume up all the way in communication. If not literally by shouting all the time, but in constant on, blast mode, I am sick of telling you…….
I know, I get the frustration, I have wholeheartedly been there myself, and I have had to discover in the most agitating manner that this does not serve anyone well. So little by little I have had to adopt the art of light and shade in mothering. I have had to find my literal and figurative volume. Knowing when to put on the pressure and take no prisoners and equally discerning when it was time to retreat, stay quiet, listen and allow the girls speak their needs, woes, pains and frustrations and be there to listen, to just listen even though there may be 1000 things I could say. Those were the days to keep it light. Then there are the days and times when the shade is called for. Calling them out on their missteps, making them accountable for all the things they promised to do and did not and requiring performance of group tasks that most of us are not really fans of having to carry out, but must be done. Those are the shade days. I wish there was a simple formula that I always knew would come through, it has been for me however a case of feeling with my heart brain and not my head the appropriate time for light and shade. July brought me several opportunities to test my radar and lean into you’ve guess it more of the shade……….
‘It’s coming home, it’s coming home!’ Those joyful, expectant chants that filled the airwaves in the weekend leading up to that fateful game on Sunday 11th July 2021. The first time the England football team had made it to a major cup final in 58 years. Jubilation, excitement, unification, hope and palpable possibility coursed through the air. People who were not followers of football like my mum and American senior was aware of the significance of the unfolding events and a little swept up in the visceral excitement that was everywhere. Nikkie, my eldest, was working the doors at a pub, helping to manage some of the over exuberance of fans who were watching the matches on the big screens. Rio Ferdinand said he was not worried in the pre match chat with Gary Linekar and others. He was so confident that the boys would bring the trophy home. And yet, they did not.
It was one of those surreal matches because everyone was invested, it felt like the country was holding its breath the whole time. England scored within 2 minutes of kick off and there the scoring remained until Italy equalised in the 67th minute. It went to penalties as there were no further goals during the 30 minute extra time. Penalties…….and goal keepers…….. Both teams had great keepers and great penalty takers…….but it happened to be that the the Italian keeper saved more penalties than the England keeper and one of England’s penalties missed the goal and bounced off the bar. The 2 England players that scored were white, and the 3 that did not land their penalties were not.
The consequence of these fateful misses was clear to anyone who was not white in those agonising last moments of the match. Gareth Southgate, England manager (and victim of abuse on failing to score in his penalty turn in the 1996 Euros semi finals against Germany) went straight to the youngest player Saka who took a great shot, (it was just saved by the Italian keeper) and held him tight in a beautiful gesture of support. I had gone to bed so did not start to see the fallout until the following morning. As expected, racism was out in full effect.
There was name calling and race bashing of the players all over social media. The keyboard warriors adding their 2 pence worth of abuse in any space possible. What was refreshing to see however, was the number of people speaking out against the taunts and abuse. The number of everyday people (although surprised by how freely the disrespect was flowing), calling out unacceptable language and memes. Well known faces using their platforms to renounce the behaviour of a small minority of people displaying their ignorance and contempt towards other humans. The racist backlash I was expecting because I have seen and lived it before, the solidarity against racism, outwardly and vehemently declared I had not. It was a beautiful and pleasant surprise. The tide of change against what just a few short years (I mean even as recent as just before the 2020 murder of George Floyd. I believe that it was because of lockdown white people who had not until then taken the time to understand how real racism still was in this day and age were given the space due to the stillness and lack of distraction to face some truths) ago would have been openly accepted was a step forward in the right direction. There still is and remains much, much work to be done, but the promise of change feels good, and I take this as a sign that the collective unconscious is refusing to proceed along the long established paradigms. There is a sense of intolerance to nonsense, ill treatment and prejudice based on race. I hope and pray this sentiment continues to blossom.
The lower edge of football culture revealed itself in more inexcusable behaviour in the name of the beautiful game. It is said when England loses a major game the rates of domestic violence rise by 38%. I would say that is at least 38% because I know it is sadly probably much higher than this. 38% more families are subject to violent outbursts over football. Well not over football, but because of football. One of the conversations that I had with my youngest Nialah when the Euro fever was heightening was about the behaviour that some men display in the name of football. The out of control emotional outbursts disguised through fighting, vandalism, fighting each other and generally taking some questionable decisions. Doing this all in a collective, tribal brain absent expression of masculinity. What we happened upon during our observation and exploration of these behaviours was a theory to explain why this was so, and why as a general rule unacceptable behaviours become excusable and tolerated in the name of football specifically and sport more generally. Football makes it ok for men to cry. Football makes it ok for men to express pain, loss, sorrow, sadness, disappointment and deep seated hurt that would have no other space for acknowledgment and expression in their usual lives. Every man understands the pain of watching their team lose even though they may use it as an excuse to torment their mates, they would not not accept them crying at such an event. Bring them a crying mate in the pub on any other day - that may not be so readily handled or understood. So here we are creating messaging and a paradigm which low key acknowledges men can have emotions and share them, but only in a very limited set of circumstances. The limited circumstances however also to a certain extent permit disproportionate displays of emotion leading to violent outbursts because it’s sport. This is another reason to call the behaviour out, and make it known that the mismanagement of emotion is unacceptable, but to highlight that emotions and me are always welcome in day to day life, in safe spaces of expression and as a normal part of masculinity. Let us educate our boys to feel the truth of their emotions and know that understanding their emotional life is an asset for them.
Let us see what the summer continues to bring for us, with exam results for the second year with no exams…….