This is a story about the queer community in footy. It’s not a story about hate – although make no mistake, that’s certainly the stage upon which this plays out. It’s been a long, trying week in AFL land, after all. When Adelaide’s Izak Rankine used a homophobic slur at an opposition player, the league took four days to sanction him. People in the LGBTQIA+ community felt every excruciating second of that wait, and were subjected to waves of online abuse while they did.
And then, the verdict. The AFL reneged on their stated precedent, and they reduced Rankine’s suspension. Their first real test on tackling homophobia – from a star player with something tangible to lose on the brink of finals – and they caved. The result seems to have emboldened some of the worst elements of AFL-watching society, and the comment sections are still rife with the most eclectic spread of homophobic hate speech you’re likely to see. It’s been a rough week.
But, despite that, this is still not a story about hate. This is a story about love. Because former West Coast player Mitch Brown chose this very moment – this landscape, fraught with hostility – to speak his truth and to come out publicly as a bisexual man. It is a move steeped in love for his community, which bleeds through his every word. He did it to ease the way and to be a role model. He did it so that closeted players might draw strength and comfort from his experience, and feel even a little bit less isolated.
There may have been an “easier” time for Brown to do this, when people were less hostile, less inclined towards vocalising hate. However, he chose now. Now, after a week where the LGBTQIA+ community seemed to get little to no consideration from AFL House when passing down their Rankine verdict, and where morale in the queer football community was at an all-time low. If the slur emboldened the worst in society, then Brown has empowered the best.
There is no overstating his bravery, and I know many people would have seen themselves in each shaky breath he drew, every considered pause. Brown spoke with clarity and eloquence, giving voice to heartbreakingly universal experiences and ensuring that the discourse is no longer flooded by hypotheticals. However much love and care it took for him to make the decision to come out, I can only hope he understands that it is being returned to him tenfold.
Because that’s the thing about the queer community, we’re no strangers to any of this hate-mongering. It doesn’t get easier to weather, and it certainly doesn’t get any less painful, but we’ve learned where to find the salve. This community is at its best when we can wrap our arms around each other, coax out a laugh, and simply sit with the reminder that we’re not alone in this.
But in the AFL, that community does not yet exist for gay, bisexual, or queer male players. That much is clear from what Brown shared of his experience. But this, too, can change. Footy speaks the language of community – it understands the ebbs and flows, the early mornings and late nights, the rainy days and the raffles and the carpooling and the showing up for your mate. Bridging the gap would not take that big a leap, if there is a concerted effort from the players.
And that effort does exist, scarce though it may seem. Ben Brown and Tom Campbell marched with the Ruby Demons in this year’s Midsumma Pride march, to visible gratitude from members of the crowd. Nick Davis did the same with the Rainbow Swans at Sydney’s Mardi Gras. Collingwood’s Brayden Maynard was outspoken against homophobia amid last week’s maelstrom. At time of writing, Darcy Moore and Alex Pearce have made strong statements in support of Mitch Brown on Instagram. Such is the changing character of the AFL playing group that I expect they will be far from the last to express this sentiment.
The AFL doesn’t yet have a soft landing place for closeted men’s players. Their LGBTQI+ inclusion action plan was released in 2024 – too late to have had any impact on Brown. The frequency of slurs in the league needs to be dealt with more decisively, bigger cultural change enacted, and a return to the promised zero tolerance would be more than welcomed. But there is movement in the right direction. And at a time when we could dwell on the work to be done, Brown has reminded us that we can also shine a light on the positives.
So, this isn’t a story about hate. It’s a story about love, and what that love looks like in action. It’s a story about hope for a better, more kind future in Australian rules football. And more than anything, it’s a story about a queer community that proudly, joyously, includes Mitch Brown, ex-AFL player and bisexual man.
Sarah Guiney is a freelance sport writer covering cricket and women’s sport
