If I had a rupee for every time I heard that sentence, I could probably buy shares of Arsenal Football Club and fix the mess that’s been made of my beloved.
THINK PAD
If I had a rupee for every time I heard that sentence, I could probably buy shares of Arsenal Football Club and fix the mess that’s been made of my beloved. Unfortunately, money doesn’t just come out of the air like that; but people’s judgment does, and this very sentence is what they will tell you in the self-proclaimed land of ‘liberal’ progression when you utter the words or something similar to, “I like football!”
You need to be a female for this, of course. Otherwise, people will receive this comment very positively! Now where is the fun in that? Are we all not aware of how bland and patriarchal the sense of humour is amongst the men in this country? I don’t mean to sound like the traditional ‘man-hater’ (I do, actually, but that doesn’t make me one); although for someone who loves the rebellion against tradition in a society of regressive mindsets, I would request the opposite gender to improve their quality of remarks against women who enjoy sports, football specifically.
I can already imagine a wave of heavy gasps sweeping the serenity of so many content male football fans who revel in their self-made territory of ‘love’ for the game. It’s like I’m holding something sharp enough to cut those barbed wires (and their escalated egos), standing on the edge of that territory, waving a flag painted with the colours of rebellion and donning just the right kind of smirk on my face - kind of like Jose Mourinho, when you know the man is up to no good (is he, ever?).
The picture I’ve painted here may well and truly be exaggerated, but it certainly depicts the reality. I type this away with clenched teeth, remembering every experience I’ve encountered with a man who has brushed off my interest solely because I’m someone who rushes to the female toilet, rather than a male’s. And I wish, so persistently, that this might have changed over the course of a few years, but it never really does. It’s kind of like the club I like, Arsenal, finishing inches to the top tier for quite a while now, but never really moving from that place (I live for the banter).
Until a few years ago, the comment or the notion of going to the kitchen itself would trigger a reaction, a bad one, in me. I would answer back in impulsion and anger because I’m someone who cannot enjoy a finger being pointed at my understanding of the game (or my club, let us all sing ‘Ooh to be a Gooner’ in unison). There are so many instances I regret now, when I look back at them. Most being my own self-proclaimed ‘glory days’ of being a keyboard warrior and typing away an entire debate just to shut someone up when they would suggest a trip back to the kitchen. I have wasted so much time and energy (that could have well been used in actually learning some culinary arts) on people who, at the end of the day, will not change their minds (just like they can’t change their loyalties to their clubs), which makes sense. When you love something so dearly, you go against all reason, all rationality, to defend it. It is only pitiful how some men can love something as ridiculous and flat as the thought of women never being able to like, and relish, sport.
Of course, not every fan is like that. I have had the pleasure of meeting genuine people who took a woman with interest in a particular sport seriously. These were the very few who changed the course of the conventional thought process, like football changed itself. They have revolutionized the concept by allowing women to conduct events and interviews and host programmes dedicated to sport, which is heartwarming to see. But, that’s exactly how it should be! I don’t want to go overboard with my praise for these people, since this acceptance should be something normal. I still have a damaged ego from all the directions I’ve received to get myself to the holy abode of women in our society - the KITCHEN!
Every now and then, I see someone respond with this dialogue, to a lady engaged in a discussion (this word is overlooked by the male pack as ‘argument’ by the way). I laugh, or better still I scoff. And I give myself the reassurance that this man is still using done to death humour, man with a narrow mind. (Also, most of the times it makes sense if they are fans of Manchester United, pity that lot in Pakistan honestly. But that’s a different debate.)
Until now, I might have triggered a few fanbases, a specific gender and my mother, if she happens to read this (she thinks making fun of cooking isn’t the most feminine thing to do). Well, welcome to my world, or should I say, welcome to the world of an average female football fan. You have now stepped in soil you all claim to never understand! (Not so hard to get now, are we?)
Whatever feeling or thought you have in you at this moment is justified- honestly, the whole point of writing an article full of gender and football club bias was to introduce most of you (the smarter ones) to the feeling we, the female fans, experience so often. I can already hear most of you mutter how all this is garbage, and you’re right.
What I want you to see, however is the fact that if I, as a passionate football fan can lay my ego down and write all this with nonsense examples JUST to prove the point of that ‘joke’, you may also be able to unload your guns of lethal pride (as tall as Ibrahimovich, and he’s pretty tall) and give the girls a break- not a chance! (We’ve already made the choice of being fans of the game.)
So, as it stands, its Women leading the ‘Game of Change’ (synonymous to a Champions League Final, if you may) by 1-0, and we’re into stoppage time waiting for the Men to create a wordly goal that will settle this social unrest in sport as a respectful, mutual understanding. Bang in a volley if you want, our keeper is no Manuel Neuer.
