Football, Identity, and the Legacy of Colonial Ties

When England faces Ghana—a former British colony—watch closely. Kobbie Boateng Mainoo stands out as one of the most promising talents, while Brandon Thomas-Asante, Jerome Opoku and Antoine Semenyo also command attention, all sharing similar backgrounds: born in England, raised within English football, yet with Ghanaian heritage. Only Mainoo represents England; the others play for Ghana.

Such stories compel me to reflect on loyalty and what it means to support a national team in a globalised sport.

For those who prefer to keep sports separate from politics, it is worth noting that 26 of England’s current squad members are sons or grandsons of Caribbean and African migrants—many hailing from former British colonies. Football has always mirrored society.

The Migration Observatory at the University of Oxford found that nearly a quarter of the 1,248 players named for the 2026 World Cup were born in a country different from the one they represent, a figure that rose from under nine percent in 2006. FIFA’s relaxed eligibility rules have broadened talent pools, enabling players trained in Europe’s elite academies to reconnect with their roots. This trend has narrowed the gap between traditional powerhouses and emerging football nations; Africa’s Ivory Coast and Cape Verde now challenge Germany and Spain, respectively. The diaspora is no longer a footnote—it is the story.

I must admit I have a soft spot for the Three Lions.

Growing up, my brother and I debated our international allegiances. Born and raised in England during the 1990s and 2000s, the influence of England’s “Golden Generation” was profound. Meanwhile, Nigeria—a country of our ancestry—exuded pride and passion, and the United States, where we also spent formative years, added another dimension to our identities.

My first love for both England and Nigeria began at Wembley Stadium. At four, I witnessed England defeat Nigeria—an Afcon champion—on 16 November 1994. The match left an indelible mark on me, shaping my emotional connection to the sport and to both nations.

Football can be a harsh teacher. England’s defeats to Argentina in 1998 and Germany in 2022 felt like personal betrayals, especially for someone split between two allegiances.

What I want to explore is the lived reality of being Black and supporting Western teams in the places where we were raised.

The first Black British footballers who broke barriers—Viv Anderson, Luther Blissett, Paul Ince, and later players such as Ollie Watkins—represented milestones of resilience. By 2026, 127 Black players had appeared for England, a testament to progress rather than mere numbers.

I see this lineage in my heroes: Ian Wright, Paul Ince, Les Ferdinand, Andrew Cole, and more recently, Marcus Rashford, Jadon Sancho, and Jude Bellingham. Their achievements inspire new generations and demonstrate the influence of Black excellence in English football.

Yet pride can coexist with discomfort. The English media’s treatment of Black players often oscillates between adulation and subtle marginalisation—an unsettling dynamic that echoes broader societal tensions.

Across the world, players also face the complex decision of national allegiance. Guela and Desire Doue, Nico and Inaki Williams, and others illustrate how personal, cultural, and professional factors intertwine in this choice.

Factors influencing this decision extend beyond prestige. Practical considerations such as stability, resources, and federation politics play significant roles—subject matter for deeper analysis.

But a shift is happening. Players like Ibrahim Mbaye (Senegal) and Ayyoub Bouaddi (Morocco) have chosen their ancestral nations over France. African teams are narrowing the gap with continental and world tournaments, with Morocco’s 2022 semi‑final run highlighting the potential success of diaspora talent.

As a British‑Nigerian‑American, watching Ghana confront England represents more than a match—it is a dialogue between history and hope. It reminds us that colonial legacies continue to shape identities, yet the diaspora’s agency gradually redraws national narratives. Football, then, remains a reflecting pool of society and a platform for progress.

The views expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not necessarily reflect Al Jazeera’s editorial policy.

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