Written by Al Slattery (they/he)
Last week, I attended the AusGP 2024 and it was a great time. Max DNFing caused a Ferrari win, I saw friends I hadn’t seen in over a year and both the on and off-track action were unforgettable.
But, there were undeniably times when the hyper-masculine fan base caused fear and concern for me and my partner.
We caught looks from people, people were staring, and people, while not being homophobic directly to us, were being homophobic around us. You can never know when ambient homophobia will turn direct, towards you, as a queer couple in the vicinity. That’s scary.
Image: My partner (right) and I (left) at the GP, having a great time
Image description: Two white people standing in front of a McLaren F1 car in a box. The person on the left (Al) is wearing glasses, a red bandanna and a black T-shirt with a pink "Formula 1 Australian Grand Prix" graphic on it. The person on the right (Al's partner) is wearing a purple AusGP hat, sunglasses and a blue printed shirt with trees.
At a Pride in Motorsport event I went to which I will talk more about later, when talking about why young women are fans of Formula One more than other motorsports, it was mentioned that while F1 has an image and acceptance problem, it is much worse in other motorsports. By and large these issues are self-fulfilling prophecies; queer people, disabled people, women and people of colour don’t feel accepted and comfortable at an event meaning they don’t attend which amplifies the fear, lack of acceptance and safety concerns for other marginalised peoples that would otherwise attend.
But it’s not without hope. Formula 1 and the Australian Grand Prix Corporation are obviously trying. There was the Pride hub with pronoun pins, stickers, queer history in motorsport and just a safe space – which doubled as a space for women in motorsport through allowing the global women in motorsport community “Girls Across the Grid (GATG)” to use this space for friendship bracelet trading. There was also the Pride in Motorsport event and specific talks and tents dedicated to the issues of women and queer people in motorsport on the Tech Talk stage. (I was unable to attend either of these talks due to their timing and the distance between this stage and our seats for the on track action but even still they had conversations about sustainability and pathways and equality in the sport, those of which I saw were very interesting).
In all, nothing major happened, and I know I did walk in with the perception that it isn’t necessarily the safest environment for me and my partner as a queer couple. But, in honesty, many of these fears were proven correct. I was lucky to, for the most part, be surrounded by friends and be able to pretend that my partner wasn’t my partner in situations that seemed too unsafe.
The people behind us in our grandstand for all four days were drinking heavily, making comments and continually trying to interact with us, which was uncomfortable in general but also caused my partner and I to stop touching. At this point we had other people with us who would bear the brunt of the inescapable and uncomfortable conversations with these people but still. The fear was there.
Sometimes it is the little differences between a cis heterosexual experience and my trans queer experience that stand out and hurt the most. Not being able to hold hands while walking around because you had looks on day 1, not being able to touch each other at all in your seats because the people behind you are making you uncomfortable, not being able to exist carefree and just always having to be weary of the people around you and the looks they are giving you.
Image description: Amy Shark on stage crouching down with a microphone, she is wearing a black tracksuit jacket with white stripes on the sleeves. The stage has a band and "AMY SHARK" in large capital letters on it.
My partner and I attended the Amy Shark concert on the Friday night because my partner is a big fan of her music and it seemed like it would be a fun time. However, we ended up alone for most of it due to our friends being tired, cold, or just uninterested. It’s important to note that Amy Shark was at 7:30 after the daytime gates had closed and there was no other action at the track. So, inevitably, the crowd was made up, partly by Amy Shark and music fans that wanted to watch and listen to the music and also largely by drunk F1 fans, there for no other reason than to continue drinking and hanging with their friends. Now, I'm not shaming the people doing the latter, that absolutely is a valid way to spend your time and spending time with friends with one of Australia’s best musicians as a backdrop is undeniably a good time. It is however, a precursor for an unsafe environment for one of the only times me and my partner were alone.
Quite early in the concert we were stuck beside a group of early 20s men that for 5 minutes were making jokes that essentially boiled down to “haha gay” with queer people being the punchline of their jokes. During the concert, there were couples everywhere, holding each other, swaying, dancing, and enjoying themselves but due to where we were stuck, my partner and I decided we weren’t safe to do that. I would be lying if I said this didn’t make me considerably upset. Why can’t we do that too? Why can’t we just be like every other couple, safe to enjoy a concert and dance and sing and hold each other? Why do I have to fundamentally fear for my safety for loving my partner?
We eventually moved in a bit further and were amongst a lovely older couple and people that visibly enjoyed the music and were there for the concert more than anything. But still, we basically ran out of the track after. Not only because we were two AFAB individuals alone at night heading home on public transport but also because we were in love. I will never understate the misogyny within the F1 fandom and absolutely that was a large part of, at least my, feelings of danger in that moment. But we were undeniably safer if we were just two AFAB friends than we were as a couple.
Nothing drastic has to happen to show that F1 has an acceptance problem and queer people can sometimes tell when they are unsafe and adjust their behaviour before things escalate. Just the mere fact that we felt unsafe is indicative that F1 has a ways to go before acceptance is truly universal.
I feel it is important to share these experiences no matter how small they may seem to others. These conversations start small and are so vital to ensuring everyone, including those who appear more queer than me, can be accepted and involved in this wonderful sport. Because at the end of the day, all I want is to make this sport and the experience for all, better!
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