They Chose the Wrong Man to Silence

Vinícius Jr. has received unprecedented support from his football colleagues around the world, other leaders in different sports, and broadcasters after he faced racial abuse from SL Benfica’s number 25 and fans on Tuesday.

Racism is simply unjustifiable and must not be correlated with the behaviour of the victim. Jose Mourinho and Benfica’s official stance has been the polar opposite. Mourinho has decided to justify his number 25’s unacceptable behaviour on the pitch by correlating it with how Vinícius celebrated his goal, and his defense against racism was – Eusébio’s history with the club. The Benfica squad has black players. The Benfica number 25 has black teammates. That did not stop Benfica fans in the stands from making racist gestures and racist noises, which by now is well-documented video evidence. They do not care about Eusébio as much as Mourinho thinks they do.

Benfica’s response has been just as obnoxious, if not more. They have decided to portray their number 25 as the victim. This is the pattern perpetrators fall within. They make their denial so loud, so far-fetched, that the real victim gets forgotten. However, they have chosen the wrong victim this time.

Vinícius has suffered at least 20 incidents of racist abuse since he started playing for Real Madrid. Vinícius Jr. will not be forgotten. This is a man who had to see a doll with his name on it hung from a bridge in Madrid, by Atletico Madrid fans, because of the color of his skin. This is a man who got sent off after the racism protocol was activated in Valencia, despite him being the victim. He is still playing football, winning games on his own for the world’s biggest football club.

Jonathan Liew of The Guardian wrote on Wednesday, “There is a particular strain of football discourse that tends to regard racism as a reputational risk rather than a lived reality that the true injustice is not so much the insult as the allegation. That the real victims are not the players who endure it, but the institutions forced to deny it and the neutral observers forced to talk about it. As if the correct response to abuse is strategic restraint. As if simple human dignity is conditional on decorum.”

Some of the responses to Liew’s article have been truly dark. It has been asked by some, “Is Vinícius even the right person to fight against racism?”

To which Sid Lowe has provided a great response.

“Yes, I think so: this is part of Jonny’s discourse. He doesn’t have to be an exemplary guy to be a victim, nor to carry the fight either. That concept of the “good immigrant”: and why does it have to be a good immigrant, Iara, for her to be heard, for what she says to matter? And I also think that he, whether you like him more or less, has taken this fight to a place it wouldn’t have reached without him. He has somehow forced a change. (In part because of the reach he has, because of the club he represents, the media and social power that comes with it, etc.),” Lowe wrote.

I would like to add to Sid’s take that Vinicius has forced the change, not just because he is a Real Madrid player or the kind of reach he has. He has forced a change because he is unapologetic about it. He will not look down or look away. He is also not just fighting for himself. This is beyond club names, rivalries, scorelines, or the sport itself for him. He was the first one to speak out against the racist abuse Lamine Yamal, Ansu Fati, and Raphinha suffered at the Bernabeu in a game Real Madrid lost by 4-0. Real Madrid and LaLiga took the appropriate steps, and the culprits were arrested.

Vinícius Jr. did not choose to become the face of football’s fight against racism – racism chose him, targeted him, repeatedly, relentlessly, and in full view of the world. What he chose was to refuse silence. In a sporting landscape where victims are routinely asked to be palatable, composed, and grateful for whatever scraps of institutional support trickle down to them, Vinícius has been something far more threatening to the status quo: honest, loud, and entirely unbothered by the discomfort his honesty creates.

Mourinho can reach for Eusébio’s legacy. Benfica can dress their number 25 in victimhood. Social media can debate whether Vinícius is the right kind of messenger. None of it will land, because the video evidence exists, the pattern exists, and Vinícius himself exists — still on the pitch, still scoring, still speaking. He has made it structurally harder for football to look the other way, not because of the badge on his shirt or the size of his platform, but because he has refused, at every turn, to make it easy for anyone to do so.