I Wanted France To Win The Soccer World Cup, But Not For The Reasons That White People Think

I knew that if they lost, racism would rear its ugly head… again

I was with my French colleagues on a team retreat in Lisbon, Portugal, when France won its World Cup quarter-final soccer match against Morocco. The French members of my team were jubilant and most of them partied all night.

Before the match, I felt anxious, so much so that I retreated to my room during that match and worked. From time to time, I would turn up the volume on the TV in my hotel room to see how the French team was fairing on. They were winning and I was content, but not for the reasons that you think.

The French team won that match and it became clear that they would face Argentina in the finals. I was excited for them. My husband and I toyed with spending the day of that match in Paris. I reminisced back to 1998, two years after my husband and I had gotten married and the last time the French had won the soccer World Cup. It had been a magical moment to experience at the time.

Everyone in France forgot their differences for a while and came together. Everyone: white, Black, and brown people. It was fantastic. At the time, I fantasized about how wonderful the world, France would be if all human beings came together to celebrate their humanity rather than allow racism and xenophobia to control their lives. I remember so vividly how France had won that World Cup, and I was happy, but not for the reasons that you might think.

Fast forward to this year and that final match between France and Argentina. I was on edge the whole time. The match had barely started and Argentina scored one goal and then two. The French seemed to be losing and then they had a penalty. Kylian Mbappé, a French player of African ancestry kicked it and scored. I breathed a huge sigh of relief. A Black player had scored for France, excellent. Thank God he hadn’t missed that penalty. If he had, he would have faced the worst racism in France in the aftermath.

The game progressed and the same player scored again. I cried for joy, a Black player was giving the entire nation the chance to dream of winning the World Cup, I was ecstatic. Maybe just maybe, if France won because of Mbappé, there’d be less anti-black racism in France. I knew that it was naive to even consider that, but still, I had hope, a little hope.

The match continued, and Mbappé almost scored again. I kept on manifesting. I wanted him to score that third goal, I didn’t want the match to end with penalty kicks. I just wanted Mbappé to bring the trophy home to France, I wanted a Black man to save France.

But, he didn’t score during the formal 90 minutes and the extra time. Up came the penalty kicks and two Black French players did not score. From that moment onward, I knew there’d be a problem, a racism problem. I knew from then on that we were screwed — we meaning Black people.

The Argentinians went on to win the soccer World Cup and French people cried. A few minutes after the end of the match, racism and bullying started on social media. The two Black players faced the brunt of it. The vitriol which I cannot even reproduce here because words hurt, shocked me beyond measure. I felt so sad for those boys — around my own son’s age, who trained for years to be on the French soccer team, gave every bit of themselves to win, but were unlucky when they shot those penalty kicks.

I thought about how much they must be beating themselves over the loss, and as if that wasn’t enough, swathes of racists were bullying them online. I thought of how callous, and unfair the world could be. And I couldn't keep myself from thinking: God, I wish they had won, they wouldn’t have to face such vile racism if they had. I prayed that these young boys got some psychological support to deal with the bullying and racism they faced.

So folks, as the year comes to a close, I am yet again surprised about how much racism plays a large role in my life. I wrote about 200 stories on this platform about racism this year — that is quite a lot. And trust me, I don’t go out looking for racism so that I can write a story about it, I just live my life and it comes to me.

Whether it be my move to Paris earlier this year where I myself encountered racism in diverse forms — but always recognizable by its arrogance and pettiness, to my commute home to Geneva on weekends, its ugliness has clouded some of my days and left me in despair. But, I have never let it take away my hope that it will one day be eliminated completely.

In 2022, I was grateful for life, for my loving family, for my good friends, and for the new people I met with whom I am building strong and beautiful bonds.

In November, I did an inside journey retreat. It was an incredible experience where I was able to stand outside myself and look at my life. During the entire time, I felt an inner serenity and happiness as I studied every corner of that world — a world that was different from the one I inhabit.

One thing though that was apparent in that world, was that there was no racism, no prejudice. People looked beyond that into the true souls of each other and connected on a deep and authentic level.

Most nights now, I dream of that world. I remain so strongly convinced that if I can dream of it, I can play a strong role in making it happen. So onwards and upwards. In 2023, I will continue fighting racism the best way I know how: by writing.

Thank you for your loyalty dear readers. You have helped me grow this past year and I look forward to sharing my perspective on a diverse range of topics again with you in 2023.

Have a beautiful end to 2022 and a perfect start to 2023. I appreciate you.

With love and kindness,

Rebecca