Last month I took the overground to sit in my season ticket seat at the best football club in the country, in my home of north London. I sat with the middle-aged men I’ve learnt to love over the past three seasons, watching a team I’ve loved since I was a child and celebrated a buoyant 3-1 win over Brentford under the sunshine.
So how come, 30 minutes after the final whistle, I was surrounded by police officers, sobbing my eyes out in a Transport for London office at Seven Sisters?
I’d say there’s always a sense of nervousness getting on the packed overground after a game, no matter if we win or lose. The trains come only every 15 minutes, the crowd gets frequently kettled into the small station, and being only 5ft 3in and packed into a crowd of men who have spent the last 90 minutes submitting to their territorial football mentality, I often have to meditatively breathe myself into being OK. But until now, I had been OK. Despite appearances, most fans in these situations still seem to have a generally altruistic and empathetic attitude to those less able, less comfortable, or just generally … small.
When an away fan elbowed me in the face getting on the carriage that weekend I put it down to the intense crush as everyone pushed each other to get on in time. It’s never nice, it’s never comfortable, but it happens. It was just as the train was setting off that I realised I was actually being assaulted. The same fan was pushing into me, not in a packed-like-sardines way, but in an I’m-pushing-my-pelvis-directly-into-your-ass-on-purpose kind of way. Meanwhile, the man in front of me was grinning and licking his lips as my front was pushed into him from behind. Like being a slice of cheese in a horrendous assault sandwich.
To exacerbate things, the away fan had two teenage sons with him who started laughing about their dad being able to “penetrate” a girl on a train and when I told him to stop, all hell broke loose. I won’t go into everything they said, but it was cruel and misogynistic. They then started filming me as I was still being assaulted, while someone in the carriage yelled at me to “enjoy it”.
After I pointed out the assaulter to a young member of the TfL staff at Seven Sisters, he shrugged, obviously unaware of procedure. Shaken up while the fans were still shouting abuse at me, I waited for the entire crowd to leave before then seeing five police officers further down the station. After I explained what had happened between frenzied sobs, they ran down the escalator and held the Victoria Line train to try to find him. Too late – he and his sons had managed to get an earlier tube.
After my statement had been taken, football shirt sodden with sweat, and comforted by very kind and empathetic officers, my boyfriend picked me up and I made my final trip home. It was only over the rest of the weekend my rage against this man amplified into the familiar anger at the systemic inequality I have to endure every week I go to the football. Why, despite being a lifelong fan just like these men, do I have to grit my teeth every time I attend a game?
My mind flitted from “why were away fans allowed on the platform”, to “why did the male TfL attendant just shrug”, as if this is just part and parcel of going to football matches. Why does it have to be? By protecting the traditional, and at times brilliant, football culture in this country, why does that mean maintaining and even applauding views and behaviour towards women that is not just outdated but openly predatory? Furthermore, whose responsibility does it fall on to tackle these issues? I would imagine Tottenham have nothing to do with fans the second they leave the stadium. Is it clubs that should be working harder to tackle misogynistic behaviour? Is it the responsibility of the away team that sell their allocation to aggressive fans? Is it TfL, which could be working harder to ensure women are safer on their carriages after football games by putting on more trains to ease crowding, or explore policies such as women-only carriages as seen in Japan and Brazil? Or is it the British Transport Police who should be investing further into campaigns against sexual violence and post-match disorder?
In 2019, only 14% of men thought sexism was a prevalent issue at football games, yet just last month, a study from Kick It Out has shown that 52% of female fans have experienced sexist behaviour on match-day. Compounding that with a 36% growth in match-day disorder since the pandemic, it feels like harassment and assault is a bomb about to explode in a room of silent witnesses. As long as we view women as secondary in the space of men’s football, this issue will never be addressed. And with a disparate collective of clubs, transport companies and the police unable to form a coalition at dealing with misogyny and disorder together, it feels like everyone is putting their hands up and deciding it’s someone else’s problem to deal with.
When contacted by the Guardian, TfL said it was shocked to hear about my experience. “We are very sorry that the woman concerned did not receive the help that she needed. We are supporting the police with their investigation and are also looking into how this was handled by staff.” BTP, meanwhile, said there has been a rise in reports of sexual harassment and that “our officers are on patrol 24/7 and can meet trains at the next station. If it happens on the tube and you don’t have signal, you can speak to staff or text us at the next station.”While their intentions are genuine, I am sure, I’m still fatigued and resent the need of entering protection mode every time I want to go see the club I love, support and pay to watch. My whole body fills with dread when I now think of the journey there and back for the next match.
This is a public call for clubs, BTP and TfL to please do better. At the very least, invest in campaigns that address this behaviour. Explore policies that make these spaces safe for women. Take us seriously and stop viewing us as secondary in the male space. The fact that two teenage boys were encouraging what was happening shows how vital it is to shift these behaviours before they’re picked up by the next generation.
Eve De Haan is a Spurs season ticket holder. She is not the installation artist of the same name.
