The recent spectacle of Australian sports embracing Indian Prime Minister Narendra Modi has left a deep impression on me, and not in a positive way. As an Indian, Muslim, and Australian sports enthusiast, I've always felt a sense of belonging, but this event has shattered that illusion. Seeing AFL and cricket icons pose with Modi felt like a personal betrayal, as if they were celebrating a leader who represents the antithesis of the values I hold dear.
What makes this particularly fascinating is the contrast between the official narrative and the reality on the ground. Modi, as the democratically elected leader of India, is a key strategic partner for Australia. However, for many religious minorities in India, his name evokes fear and discrimination. International human rights organizations have repeatedly condemned his government's actions, yet Australian sports organizations seem oblivious to this context.
In my opinion, the issue here is not about sports refusing to engage with governments. It's about the message that such engagements send to the very communities these sports claim to embrace. Sport understands the power of symbolism, and by standing alongside Modi, these organizations risk alienating the very people they purport to include. It's a classic case of performative diversity, where the optics matter more than the lived experiences of those affected.
The AFL and Cricket Australia have active multicultural strategies targeting Indian communities, but their actions speak louder than words. By embracing the Modi government, they risk reinforcing the idea that only certain Indian voices are worth engaging with - those that align with the majority. For minority communities, this is a painful reminder of their double marginalization, first in India and then in Australia.
As someone who has dedicated years to promoting diversity and inclusion within Australian sports, I find this turn of events particularly disheartening. I've witnessed firsthand the potential for sports to foster a sense of belonging and national identity. But moments like these reveal the shallow nature of such efforts. Belonging is not a strategy; it's a feeling, and it's one that was sorely lacking last week.
The contradiction is stark: these organizations have celebrated my identity, sought my expertise, and asked me to represent their values. Yet, when it comes to making decisions that directly impact my community, I'm seemingly an afterthought. Identity is not something you can cherry-pick; you either embrace it wholly or not at all.
The Modi visit has exposed a deeper question: do the sporting institutions we love truly believe in the inclusion they preach? Belonging is not a slogan; it's a practice, and it's one that requires constant vigilance and a genuine commitment to hearing all voices, especially the hardest ones. Until then, the feeling of exclusion will linger, and the potential for sports to unite us will remain unrealized.
