No, Latin America, South Asian Fans Don’t Need to Be Paid

The group stages of the 2022 World Cup in Qatar are now over. (If, like me, you had only the vaguest notion of what that means, 32 teams from around the world played each other in randomly assigned groups). Of all the parts of the World Cup, this might be the most manic, most crowded, and most global part of the entire process of declaring a world champion in football.

Fans from all over the world converge to support their teams. The best from 3 matches moves onto the ‘sweet sixteen’ part of the tournament.

We’ll leave the discussions about what it’s called (and why American football isn’t actually called hand/egg…) for another time. Since it’s the world’s game, football will do for now.

The Great Fan Debate

Beyond sports, there’s been much debate around human rights, alcohol sales, and now we’ll look at fans. Because, as with everything else related to life in the cosmopolitan capital of Doha, it’s layered. First of all, we must grapple with the fact that of the nearly 3 million people who live in the country, around 250,00 – 350,000 are Qatari citizens.

You can only be a Qatari citizen if your father is one (most countries in the Middle East and Asia are patrilineal). The rest are ‘guest workers’ or citizens of the world, some on short-term assignments – oil industry engineers, lawyers, execs – and others make their home here – professors, teachers, small business owners. Everyone contributes to fueling the economy.

Since the ’60s, and the discovery of oil in Saudi Arabia, the Indian subcontinent has been a major sending country for labor in the development of the infrastructure in the Gulf. From building malls to homes, to setting up the banking system and beyond, Indians, Pakistanis, Bangladeshis, Nepalis, and others have been setting up shop in Saudi Arabia, Dubai, Bahrain, and, Qatar.

As part of the legacy of the British Empire, when Qatar was a protectorate, the Indian rupee was the official currency for the Arabian Peninsula.

What I’m trying to say, is that the socio-cultural-economic links between South Asia and the Gulf – particularly Qatar and Dubai – are strong. And demographically, South Asians as a block, plus males specifically, make up a big portion of Qatar’s population.

So, in the lead-up to the 2022 World Cup, with tests of Fan Zones, and public gatherings of fans, guess who showed in the majority? You said brown men because you read down this far, and you’re right.

The reaction to brown men in the yellow and green jerseys of Brazil or the blue and white of Argentina was one of disbelief. Was Qatar trying to get the world to believe the World Cup would be fun with these paid fans? Clearly, these men had been paid to celebrate the coming games because, well, everything with these games was slated to be a disaster.

Accusations of Qatar paying international fans to promote positive takes on the World Cup swirled before the start of the games, but, again, was it semantics? Because aren’t top influencers paid by brands to do their thing? (Just in case you’re wondering, full disclosure, I get nothing from anyone to write about these topics; all views are my own as someone who lives here on the ground).

(Post from my Instagram in response to accusations of the brown fans being paid)

Right away, Indians and Pakistanis, within and outside the Middle East, came right back at the racist undertones in this rhetoric.

Are brown England fans not as authentic as English (aka white) ones?

Uri Levy

Because, while the fans of global football mega brands like Brazil, didn’t understand how brown fans 14,000 km away could connect with them, Pakistani passion for Pelé is crystal clear. For example, the Lyrai in Pakistan actually see themselves, their hair, skin, and facial features, in Brazilians — but not in their own nation.

Bilal Hassan

South America, like much of the formerly colonized world, suffers from colorism. Lighter, is always better, because to be dark, is to have connections to African, indigenous, or native roots – not the Caucasian overlord ancestry.

I personally experience the mix that is Latin American society, any time I’m walking around in the Spanish-speaking world, from Barcelona to San Jose. As a person of Indian origin, people come up to me and speak in Spanish. When I respond with my strong non-native accent, they are surprised (but happy I’m making the effort).

In South Africa, doing some touristy things, my Uruguayan friend and I posted photos and tagged each other. Immediately, the comments from her family came in – “Who is this woman, and how is she related to us?”

Until that moment, neither of us had seen the similarities in our features.

“I thought Uruguayans were white,” I said. (We are ever learning).

“Most of them are,” her Swedish husband explained to me. (I told you it’s a global place!) “And twenty percent of them look like you and Silvia.”

(Me and my Uruguayan sister at one of my book releases)

This funny anecdote echoed back the last two weeks. “I heard them saying it, look at these paid brown men, at the game,” she said to me at a barbecue. “The guys are having the best time, and this is their Cup.”

For this is one of the unexpected bonuses from this tournament being held in the Middle East. South Asian fans can hop on a 4-hour flight to come see in person what they had only experienced on their TVs.

What do Indians know about football?

Everything. I’m staggered by the stats, the stories, and the memories my South Asian fans have about this gathering that I’m just learning about.

(South Asian men on Doha’s Corniche celebrating Brazil’s national team)

But, as Qatar resident, Najla Nabil explains, Argentina has been her home team since she was five years old. She is ‘from’ Pakistan.

(Najla Nabil, a die-hard fan of the Argentine national team)

It’s cheesy and overused and not always true – I wouldn’t be a believer if I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes. But football can bring people together.

That is, if we can open our eyes to who/what makes a fan.


Connect with Mohana on Facebook and Twitter. Learn more about her work here.

To learn more about life in the Arabian Gulf, check out the Crimes In Arabia series!

Why Virtue Signaling about #Qatar2022 Won’t Bring Lasting Change

The World Cup in Qatar

It’s four days until kickoff for the 2022 FIFA World Cup in Qatar, the first to be held in the Middle East, the first to happen in November (and not summertime), and the first with female referees.

The awarding of the world’s biggest sports gathering came with lots of controversy, which has gathered steam over the last decade. What about all the poor South Asian laborers paid terribly and working in awful conditions? And in a place where LGBTQ people have no rights – even be jailed? How could FIFIA? How …

All valid and important questions. (I’ll pose some answers below, I promise, which we can debate).

But first, let’s look at the undercurrents of the conversation because they’re equally important to what is being said. There are a lot of people who are taking up these causes – and rightly so. Advocacy is the only way things change.

One example of a brand claiming to be aware of problematic issues in Qatar despite their own contradictory employment practices and relying on inaccurate stats.

In our digital age, however, posting a popular headline can feel like advocacy, when what it has the danger of doing, is undercutting the mission entirely. Because the media is going to mediate, with misinformation, half-truths, and inflammatory images that prey on the undercurrents of this controversial, historic decision. And social media makes it deliciously easy to partake.


In July 2020, there was the black and white selfie campaign going around Instagram and Facebook. Your female friend might have tagged you, saying, “You’re beautiful, and I know it!” It was then your turn to post a humble-brag, millennially-accepted glamour shot and receive dozens of comments on how, indeed, you were beautiful. Somehow this trend was connected to female solidarity, uplifting other women, and tangentially supporting women in Turkey.


If you tugged on this thread, you would find Turkish activists explaining that black and white photos are what Turkish media uses to report the deaths of murdered women in newspapers. And the movement to post black and white selfies was to create awareness with the idea that you, the poster, could be next, in a crime that would likely go unsolved or the assailant unpunished.

If you tugged a little harder, black and white photos were tried as a campaign strategy to raise cancer awareness in the US until it was dropped because the connection between the selfie and the cause was hard to make.

Are the women who posted black-and-white selfies bad people? No. Did they have malicious intent? No. Did the majority of them help further the cause of Turkish women? Also, unfortunately, no.

Keep Your Hair

A more recent example is the women who filmed themselves cutting their hair to support the protestors in Iran. Now, this is a much more complicated situation, so stay with me. The Iranian regime is brutal and has been suppressing its people for decades. Women, in particular, have had their freedoms curtailed, so the death of the twentysomething Mahsa Amini, as a result of beatings received while in custody of the morality police, for not wearing her headscarf properly, sparked national outrage.

Iranian women began taking off their hijab publicly, cutting off their hair publicly, and in general, breaking all the rules around veiling.

For the west, long confused by the hijab, or the Islamic practice of veiling, this was the moment many had been waiting for. Women casting off the veil on their own! Embracing freedom – what would come next – democracy?? For the others, the images just made sense. Who wanted to be told what to wear on their head?

No one. So the current cause of Iranian women was a very easy one to take up for many because it resonated with the Orientalist narratives that Muslim women are oppressed, forced to hide their hair, pressured by their society, religion, and culture to be small.

Critics of celebrities cutting their hair in solidarity with women in Iran

But, but, but, Muslim women worldwide started pointing out – would you be this interested in Iranian women if they weren’t taking off their veils? Do you really want to support Muslim women? Then… What about Muslim school girls in India whose rights are being chipped away at being told not to wear the scarf to school, or in France where Christian religious symbols are permitted but not the hijab, or fines for wearing niqab in Switzerland, or ….?

Social movements are easier than ever to be swept up in – especially when they come with catchy hashtags or a ‘Gram-worthy’ moment.

Here’s What Does Work

Don’t give up – I’m not saying what we post and share doesn’t matter. It does. The best pairing is a post with action. Remember way back when we doused each other with coolers full of freezing water? In the time before masks, and Maga hats, a quieter past (is that just nostalgia??) when the ALS ice buck challenge almost doubled the foundation’s funding? From funding grants to creating jobs for researchers to more scientific data available, the pairing of the social media video/image with the pledge to donate, was the magic combination of viral action.

If it feels exhausting – like you don’t want to do research about every single thing you post before you post it – then maybe that’s okay. I have a really good friend who often says, “I don’t know much about this, but from what I understand…” the first time I heard her say it, I was flabbergasted. Because it was so fresh, open, original, and honest.

The fact is we don’t have to be bandwagon jumpers to participate in current events. We can pick and choose, educate and inform, ourselves first, in the art of nuance. An increasingly lost art.

by Tim Reckmann

Okay, okay, can we talk about those Qatar issues now?

Yes, okay, now, we can talk about the issues specific to this World Cup in 2002 being held in the desert emirate of Qatar. The facts: the best thing that happened for labor rights in the Middle East and specifically the Arabian Peninsula, where Qatar is located, along with Saudi Arabia, and the United Arab Emirates, is being a host nation for the world’s game.

Now there’s an International Labor Organization project office. Now companies with workplace fatalities are blacklisted and banned from being awarded future contracts. Now there is a minimum wage.

Is there still a lot to do? Yes. And hopefully, the world won’t forget the unpaid wages or compensation for lost lives or pending labor cases after the final match in December. It’s partial reform, and it’s a huge step in a system used regionally to discriminate against people.

The LGBTQ population is another one that has been touted as needing international attention. And what queer Arabs will tell you is that they prefer their cause to be separate from that of the western movement. In this, they are similar to ‘third world’ feminists who have been explaining for decades that western feminism ignores how race, gender, and socio-economics call for a different type of approach to women’s rights in developing countries (see above two examples, or leave a comment, because whole books have been written about this…).

What Qatari LGBTQ people will tell you – yes, there are some (that also could be a whole book) – is that being championed by western activists like Peter Tatchell has a host of complications. The main one is that their identity becomes a way to defame their own country. Tatchell’s account of being arrested while he held signs outside the National Museum conflicts with what eyewitnesses saw (police taking his photo, and walking away).

For queer people in Qatar, and other Muslim countries, associating with western forms of identity politics muddies the waters. They’re seen as foreign agents used by others to undermine the state. And as is the case with the current protests in Iran, taking up their cause serves political agendas. So, what’s to be done in their case? Again, dialogue, consultation, and discussions with the people whose issues these are.

The wheel of progress is slower than any of us would like. We can certainly help push it forward – which in Qatar, the 2022 World Cup has done by leaps and bounds. We may not be where we want to be yet. But shame is a bad teacher and an even worse motivator.

Let’s celebrate progress and plan, call, and seek for more.

And let’s hope the world doesn’t lose interest in these issues, or people, just because their use as political footballs ends at the last kickoff.


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Why Being Left Behind Isn't as Bad as it Sounds

Pack Your Bags

Friday at 6:00 p.m. I’m the first to arrive to ladies’ night. This rarely happens. In fact, it’s probably safe to say in the instance of this particular group, I’m always last one in and first one out. On to a school fundraiser, or a birthday party, or some other family summons that sees me double booked.

But tonight I’m the first to arrive and the hostess pulls me into the kitchen.

“I’m glad you’re here. I wanted to tell you that I’m leaving the country. I’m going home.”

“Oh,” I said. The one word reaction was all I could muster in the face of yet another person announcing she was returning back to her everyday life.

Depending on where people are in the average three year expatriate cycle, the time-to-resume-regularly-scheduled-programming talk is always right around the corner for someone. But a dip in global oil prices ensured the start of 2016 as a particularly dire time for contracts being terminated, budgets slashed, and the proverbial shoe falling in Qatar.

There’s a typical pattern for those who are leaving: first, euphoria at the prospect of a new job or returning to the bosom of one’s family. Secondly the delight at knowledge that all the creature comforts you’ve been denying yourself, or strategizing to get delivered at regular intervals, will soon be back at your fingertips. Then, with the threat of deportation no longer on the horizon, a how-I-really-feel-about-this-place fount of self-expression flooding her social media. The curve on the leaving staircase is particularly sharp if one is going home; less so if there is an onward destination.

For those who are left behind, immediately there’s a gnawing sensation when you hear the announcement of a departure. Then comes the wistfulness at the thought one day it will be your turn. Finally, the no-man’s land of former vivid friendships now sustained on social media where the former desert denizen posts every negative article written about your former shared city.

Except you kind of like living where you are and so you call up a friend and commiserate. One of the few who’s still here, that is.