The morning after Germany were dramatically knocked out of the World Cup in the group stage, I took a walk around the backstreets of Doha. For the first time in my life, I was confronted, in person, by a sign telling me I was not welcome. In Britain, I had read about signs like this, whether they were against black people, Irish people or immigrants in years gone by. I am not making a direct comparison; I am not trapped in a hostile environment.
For me, this was merely a moment in time. For others, it can be a lifetime. I was a gay reporter in Qatar for four weeks. I travelled with immense privilege. I came from Britain, a country whose government has close economic and security ties with Qatar. I travelled with a burner phone and a burner laptop.
The Athletic team in Qatar numbered more than 20 people across the tournament, all of whom were supportive and caring. And, in this situation at least, to be gay affords a blessing not granted to other minority groups: it can be hidden.
As such, I set out feeling empowered. Yet as I said my goodbyes in England, I could sense a little anxiety in the voices of friends and relatives.
I am not portraying myself as a victim or a brave pioneer, or anything in between. In this story, I am not neutral and will not pretend to be. I believe that people should not be discriminated against for the way they are born. I believe in rights and freedoms. I believe that the most marginalised minorities, wherever they may be, should be liberated.
