This week on In Context: Identity, flags, and how the World Cup is challenging us about belonging.
🎙️ The Voice Living Rent Free In My Head
Misan Harriman: See what he's seeing →
Misan Harriman, the photographer and filmmaker who has captured iconic images for British Vogue, is so brilliant at capturing quiet moments through his lens. He recently shared a reflection after watching France put in another beautiful and devastating performance at the World Cup. And his observation started with a visual observation — of a French team made up of mostly Black players. And they were all being cheered along by mostly white fans.
And his observation got him thinking about the space between the two. Of the families of those players, whose voices we rarely, if at all, hear. People who have built lives in a country they weren’t born in, where they aren’t always seen as ‘one of us’ and who don’t have the relative 'protection’ of fame or wealth. He ended by reflecting that this unity offered a possibility for what that nation (and others like it) could be.
And that made me think of Jude Bellingham — how his confidence gets translated as arrogance until he secures the victory English football fans desperately want. Only then is he celebrated as a leader. This isn't new. Think of Ian Wright — now a beloved figure in football, but back in the day always portrayed as a big-mouthed, thuggish troublemaker. Different year. Same mess.
Harriman’s observation also made me think about the abuse Marcus Rashford, Jadon Sancho, and Bukayo Saka received after missing penalties in the 2020 Euro final against Italy (played in 2021), and how terrified I was as they stepped up to take those kicks, not just for the heartbreak that I’d feel about England’s loss, but about the pain of knowing the depth of racial abuse they would get for not giving England fans the thing they most desperately needed: Glory. That fear was near-debilitating, because I knew that abuse was coming not just for the player, but anyone who looked like them. And I was proved right.
That's what makes wearing the jersey of the country you were raised in — the country you love — feel so complicated for so many during these global events. I don’t have the safety of feeling like I can go ‘all in,’ and now I just don’t try. I stop running toward the place that puts conditions on its love for me, and walk toward the space that sees me for who I am. And there are deep-seated fears too. The colors of the jersey, red, white and blue, bring memories of the people who wore them with pride; the same people who told my sister and me to ‘go home where you come from’ while we were walking to dance class, and most recently, supporters of the Reform party and their policies.
Which is why I love what Misan did: He used the World Cup, the height of football, a game that elicits so much passion, as an invitation to reflect not just on who we are — especially in nations with highly diverse populations — but on what we could be. He was challenging all of us to dream of a different possibility.
That reflection inspired my Vantage Point read in this week’s issue. Read on.