Englische Version
Woman, Football, Freedom.
My experience as a volunteer at Euro2024 Tournament
Today is my day off. I'm sitting on the sofa and trying to create a reel on my Instagram account about my experiences as a volunteer at Euro 2024. Instagram reminds me of a story I posted in 2016. Me with the Iranian flag on my face, sitting on the couch with my parents and waiting for the Iranian game.
When you're a migrant from Iran, you expect there to be some bitterness in every beautiful situation. Why bitterness? Because you suddenly realise what a high price you have paid to experience this small, simple moment that people in almost all other countries simply have from birth.
You probably don't quite realize what I'm talking about yet. So here's a little hint: "In Iran, women are not allowed in the stadium". Yes, half of the population is simply not allowed to watch football or any sporting event in the stadium. But that's not all. For 47 years of the Islamic Republic, women have repeatedly fought for this right. They have either secretly disguised themselves as men and smuggled themselves in, or they have protested outside the stadium entrances. Sahar aka Blue Girl was one of them. She dressed up as a man in 2019 but was caught, arrested, sentenced, and eventually set herself on fire in front of the court. It was only after her death that FIFA issued an ultimatum stating that Iran would be penalized if women were still not allowed into the stadium. After that, only a minimal number of selected women (mostly relatives of officials or journalists) were allowed into the stadium for very limited matches, nothing more.
I moved to Germany in 2019. I was never allowed into the stadium. I was a big football fan during my teenage years. When I was a teenager, there weren't even public viewing options where women were allowed in. So I only ever watched football on TV and maybe even gave up identifying as a fan at all. After I came to Germany, I was allowed into the stadium, but then the coronavirus pandemic hit and I wasn't allowed in again for a long time. One day, my husband bought me a surprise ticket and guess what? I got corona and couldn't go. Last year I saw the advert at UEFA. There was an opportunity to apply as a volunteer for the European Championships. I had no doubts about doing it. Why? I don't know exactly. Maybe a part of me wanted to get back all the passion, the experience, the joy and everything that was stolen from me. During my first interview I mentioned, "I know it might not make a positive impression, but I've never been to a stadium before" (I've since made it before the European Championships), the interviewer, a very nice volunteer himself, told me, "Never mind, everyone is welcome!", as I've said before, for someone from Iran there's a certain bitterness in every situation. That was one of them. To hear that everyone is welcome.
What I'm trying to say is this: It's not just an honorary position. It means much more to me. When I see the colourful lines of fans at the entrances, it's not just drunken football fans for me, it's that certain everyone that I shouldn't be myself. When I hear the fans cheering in the arena, it's not just an adrenaline rush for me, it makes me realise the years of systematic oppression of people, especially women. When I see young women as volunteers, vendors, masters of ceremonies, officials or stewards, I always think of my sisters in Iran who wish so much just to be there. I am glad that I am doing this here, I am glad that I can always remind myself that there is nothing more precious in this world than freedom, and I must never forget that and I must work for it every day.
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