As a young boy, Toby Burridge had a passion for footy, but he stopped playing the sport towards the end of primary school because life was busy with other things. As a teenager, he considered rejoining the game, but was hesitant, unsure about how his sexual identity would come into play.

Not out as gay at the time, a fear of responses from members of the sporting community loomed over him. Assumptions and expectations about how Australian rules enthusiasts react to this topic put caution tape all around a return to the field.

A few years later, aged 19, he was invited to check out the Perth Hornets, Perth’s only LGBTQIA+ footy team, after a player had noticed him on the Optus Stadium social media.

Being introduced to the team, he found his passion for the sport once again.

Burridge is now the president of the club. He says the team has re-opened doors for other queer players to play the sport they love in a comfortable, accepting environment.

“We’ve had some people come in their thirties and haven’t played it for 15 years,” he says.

“They decided to come join the Hornets because they feel more comfortable.”

The Perth Hornets was established in 2018 by a group of gay men who began with a casual kick of the footy every Saturday afternoon.

Now, seven years after its establishment, the club’s focus is on pioneering in the football community, with the goal of a more inclusive and accepting atmospheres for all. The team plays in the spring and summer AFL Nines competition — a fast-paced, tackle-free version of the sport, which requires little training and is designed to fit into normal life.

A world-first international study into homophobia in sport named Out on the Fields, first published in 2015, revealed that 80 per cent of sport players in Australia have experienced a form of homophobia, and that 75 per cent believe not even a spectator would be safe from abuse.

This large, complex issue raises not only questions about individual players, but also about Australia’s sports culture and how it interacts with an evolving world of sexuality and gender.

A sport in crisis, a question for the culture

Over the past few months, the country has seen one homophobia-related incident after another in the Australian Football League.

In July, AFL Eagles’ player Jack Graham was banned for using a homophobic slur against an opposition player. That same month, Riak Andrew from the Swans’ VFL squad received a five-week ban for the same misconduct. In August, the same fate met the Adelaide Crows’  Izak Rankine for the same offensive language.

Burridge says while LGBTQ+ teams like the Hornets can bring players of all types together, discrimination against queer-identifying athletes in the AFL is engrained into the culture of the sport and the country.

He says there are also improvements to be made in the education players receive about sexual identity, and how to handle topics relating to homophobia and misogyny.

“I’ve heard that a lot of time they just do online modules, and they just discuss the answers,” he says.

“Having actual gay people that play AFL at any level coming and talking to your club about what it’s like to be gay and play football, or any sport for that matter, is probably better. 

“It’s a lot harder to learn or care about something that you’re looking at on a computer in a training module than it is when you actually meet a human being face-to-face.”

Amid a sea of homophobic language in the country’s most popular and publicised sports league, it can be easy to feel like the issue is too dark to have a flicker of light.

When Mitch Brown became the first AFL player to openly come out as bisexual earlier this year, the conversation about homophobia in the league arced up. His coming-out amplified calls for serious action and symbolic change in the culture of discrimination in the AFL.

Curtin University gender studies researcher and aspiring footy player Hanna Saltis says the AFL’s current position in-between countless homophobia scandals reflects not only the culture of the sport, but Australia at large.

They say the global shift towards conservatism can be to blame for the rise of slurs, aggression, and other homophobic behaviour: “I look at the AFL as a bit of a microcosm of society. Right now, there is a real shift back towards conservatism in general, and so we’re seeing that showing up a lot more.”

Beneath the top

Hanna Saltis has dedicated their passion for footy to exploring how gender and sexuality interact within the sport’s local levels. An enthusiastic player themselves, they can see the similarities and differences between the top leagues in the nation and lower, more community-focused games.

Media coverage of this nation-wide discussion has been mostly focused on incidents occurring in the AFL.

But beneath the surface of largely sensationalised controversy with male players, the deeper politics of gender and sexual identity in sport are at play, in the institutions and foundations of the sport at a lower, community level.

Saltis says what happens at the highest level is inevitably duplicated at lower, more community-based leagues of footy, as fan culture plays a heavy role in the attitudes of lower-level players. The homophobia that occurs at the lower-level stems from both the upbringing of individuals and the stigma around calling out inappropriate behaviour on the field and in the locker rooms:

“You still get homophobia at these lower levels, and what concerns me is that you’ll get it from fans at junior games. Primary and high school kids, this is how early it’s getting ingrained.”

They say standing up against homophobia is challenging for players at a local level. The reason? The fear that being an ally makes men feminine and weak, or that it can isolate them, by making them seem like a wet blanket, or part of the out-group.

Surpassing gender as a whole

While most of the homophobia scandals and their pushback efforts have been in the world of men’s sport, the women’s footy environment is more open and inclusive, according to Saltis.

They highlight that women’s culture is more accepting by default because of the way women find it easier to talk to each other, especially social and recreational settings like sport.

However, they say it was important to also consider the transgender and gender-neutral athletes and the troubles they face, as sometimes in a women’s sports team, gender diverse players are not accepted, while cisgender players will be:

“I’m still seeing a lot of women accepting some types of being gay or gender fluid, but other types not so much. A lot of people will say trans women shouldn’t be in the AFL or any level of community sports, which is actually against the AFL policy.”

The participation of transgender women in women’s sport is a hotly-debated topic. Backlash to inclusion often includes claims that transwomen have unfair advantages due to biology granting them physical advantages.

Saltis says evidence for claims like these is poor and an unfair magnifying glass is deployed, where it normally remains untouched when cisgender women exhibit the same extraordinary physical abilities.

For example, Satlis says, a cis woman might be put in defence due to her bigger build, giving the team a targeted advantage. But if a trans woman was put in the same situation, there would be several complaints, an argument and “the trans woman would be absolutely kicked off the field.”

Changing attitudes and the road ahead

Advocates accept that inclusion in footy is something that will require a calm yet calculated approach.

Yearly events like pride rounds and the symbolic gestures of wearing pride flags, socks, and other merchandise have been signaling change within the football community towards a more accepting future for the sport.

One man who has pioneered for LGBTQ+ experiences and spaces in sport is Jason Ball.

Ball started playing footy as a young boy in Victoria, drawn to the sense of belonging it offered. Tall, light-haired and with a beaming smile, his passion for footy knit him deep into the sport’s community.

Coming out as gay in 2012 gave him initial feelings of shock when his teammates were surprisingly accepting of his identity, despite what he had heard over previous years around the field.

“The same people who had casually used homophobic slurs were quick to show support once they realised how their words had affected someone they cared about,” he says.

According to Ball, homophobic language doesn’t necessarily stem from real beliefs surrounding gay people, it is a learned behaviour and communal banter.

“Homophobia in community football often stems from ignorance rather than hatred. It’s embedded in the culture,” he says.

“Phrases like “don’t be a girl” or “that’s gay” are treated as harmless, but they reinforce the idea that being gay is weak or that femininity is inferior.”

Ball is the founder of Pride Cup Australia, which was birthed during his experience at Yarra Glen Football Netball Club. His teammates, wanting to show their support for Ball, helped organise the first Pride Cup Match, where they wore rainbow jumpers, played with colourful line markings, and sent a message of inclusion to everybody.

This led to the creation of Pride Cup Australia in 2018 which organises pride matches in community footy and promotes better education on homophobia and inclusion in sport. It also was the inspiration for the annual pride match played every season in the AFL.

Ball says organisations like his are important for encouraging queer-identifying young people to not walk away from sport out of hesitation.

“That’s why initiatives like Pride Cup matter. They send a clear message to every young player, no matter who they are, that they belong in sport,” he says.

Many stakeholders of LGBTQ+ sport agree that both pride events and improved education are important, and neither should be skimmed over or taken lightly.

They are also concerned about a better understanding of the culture of Australia’s most beloved sport is also vital.

Saltis says while these initiatives are effective and bring a lot of joy, to create a lasting effect and deeper connection for LGBTQ+ footy players, there must also be compassionate and comprehensive communication with the community as a whole.

“There is an essence of footy that is there, and we’re not trying to take what they love away from them,” they say.

“And that should be the common ground that we start from.”