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Dr Tom Kavanagh is a lecturer in the sociology of sport at Lincoln University.
OPINION: Campbell Johnstone, who has come out publicly as the first gay All Black, has been widely praised for his bravery.
But the research and first-hand accounts of coming out suggest there is still much work to be done.
New Zealand Rugby (NZR) chief executive Mark Robinson has stated that Johnstone’s “strength and visibility will pave the way for others in our game”
It has undoubtedly been a watershed moment for the sport, and for New Zealand as a nation, but in 2023, with more than 1200 All Blacks in the game’s history, it raises questions about why this moment has not come sooner.
Johnstone revealed part of the issue when he claimed that, as a young All Black, he felt he didn’t “fit the mould” of what an All Black or Crusader was.
While NZR has taken steps to address shortcomings in diversity and inclusion in recent years (though still failed to reach the 40% threshold of women on its board, incurring a $280,000 penalty from Sport NZ in 2022), rugby union as a sport has a long history as a masculine domain with a narrow perspective on what constitutes acceptable masculinity.
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The All Blacks have a long and proud history, but until this week celebrating a gay member of their ranks wasn’t part of it.
From its origins, rugby union explicitly fostered “gentlemanly” behaviour and neglected to include women. A culture was established that prioritised a particular type of man (strong, stoic and heterosexual), and that in New Zealand has been intricately linked to national identity. That is not easily dismantled.
Research has consistently reported that the use of homophobic language and derogatory language is common in team sports. This is not necessarily reflective of overt homophobic attitudes, but are a normalised part of team “banter”.
For young gay and bisexual men, exposure to this language is shown to be a key risk factor for gay and bisexual youth experiencing depression, anxiety, alcohol or drug abuse, self-harm, and suicidality.
Consequently, gay men are more likely to conform to stereotypes about the “types of sports men play”, and drop out of sports more frequently due to fear of bullying.
There is also a view that coming out may result in more homophobia, which may in turn explain the scarcity of high profile gay, lesbian or bisexual athletes.
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The publicity around Israel Folau’s religious beliefs on homosexuality are just one example of the many factors which have pushed gay men away from rugby, says Tom Kavanagh.
There is also the broader contemporary context to consider.
In 2019, Israel Folau’s contract with Rugby Australia was terminated after he posted a statement on social media that listed “drunks, homosexuals, adulterers, liars, fornicators, thieves, atheists and idolators” and read underneath, “hell awaits you”.
Last year, seven players from the Manly Sea Eagles rugby league team boycotted a match in protest at the club’s new pride jersey, citing religious and cultural differences.
And further afield, we saw attempts to wear rainbow colours at the Fifa World Cup in Qatar quashed.
Rather than isolated incidents, these can all be viewed as contributing to the contemporary context of public discourse which gay athletes must navigate.
Rugby has had very few high-profile players come out as gay, and each has expressed the difficulty of expressing their sexuality.
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Welsh rugby legend Gareth Thomas, pictured with Prince Harry, Duke of Sussex in 2019, was the first openly gay professional rugby player, and he wrote of the personal toll it took.
Gareth Thomas, the Welsh international who was the first openly gay professional rugby player, wrote in his autobiography Proud that he “wanted to be a beautiful corpse”.
He considered suicide multiple times as he grappled with “living a lie”.
Dan Palmer, an Australian international, also exclaimed in a Sydney Morning Herald article that, “It is not an exaggeration to say my own death felt preferable to anybody discovering I was gay”.
And just last year, Nick McCarthy, a professional rugby player in Leinster, Ireland said he “contemplated walking away from rugby altogether because I just didn’t think I could come out while playing rugby”.
Johnstone himself stated: “I pushed that side of me down deeper and deeper … I went to some interesting places.”
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Dr Tom Kavanagh is a lecturer in the sociology of sport at Lincoln University.
In light of these statements, his announcement feels like an even more significant step. It changes the discourse, even if only slightly, to promote a more inclusive space, and potentially alter the experiences of young men across New Zealand’s rugby fields.
As ever, we have an example to draw from the women’s game of what an inclusive rugby environment looks like.
Of the current, World Cup-winning Black Ferns, there are several role models including Ruby Tui, Portia Woodman and Renee Wickliffe. And there are allies in the shape of All Blacks Brad Weber and TJ Perenara, both of whom have been fierce advocates for diversity in the sport.
Johnstone has taken a big step. Rugby, and New Zealand society in general, have benefited greatly from his courage.
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