Sophie Cunningham and the comments about trans athletes that the trolls love. Chronicle of a massacre

Name: Sophie Cunningham. Occupation: athlete. What she’s done: she’s the feisty player who, a few days ago, went viral on social media for the scene where she pointed her index finger during a basketball match. Recent misdeeds: receiving an unsolicited recruitment offer (and even intercontinental praise from Pillon) as a heroine of the Maga. Here, we’re constantly being put on the spot and taken off it, we’re handed unsolicited accolades, and we all end up being judged at least once a year (I’m exhausted). What happened, the background: Indiana Fever versus Phoenix Mercury; Caitlin Clark and DeWanna Bonner were having a heated argument, and Cunningham appeared in the frame with her finger pointed at Bonner. Not a quick gesture – she stood there like Zeus, her index finger held out for a long time with a brilliant accusatory expression, and didn’t move. Twenty-two seconds. Bonner tells her to stop, but Cunningham carries on. So she unnerves her and makes her miss her free throws straight afterwards. A clever move, something sports fans know all too well – they’re used to opponents trying to sabotage them. All the cameras are on her, and naturally social media has turned her into ‘the finger of God’.

That video – like all authentic, original videos, the ones that capture a micro-drama – has become the caviar of Instagram, the gold of social media this July. Just as happened last year with the couple caught in the act at the Coldplay concert: exquisite snippets of life you couldn’t make up, even if you paid Spielberg. Even the White House used it – the ‘Cunningham-index-killer’ video – pairing it with another featuring Donald Trump. She neither endorsed it nor protested; she merely shrugged, noting that by now everyone was posting that image. No harsh public distancing; so the political internet set off the alarm and automatically enlisted her among ‘those over there’ – the mad lot in red ‘Make America Great Again’ caps. It happens because on social media, ‘choose your fighter’ is now the price you pay for the past twenty years; you have to pay it whether you like it or not: there’s the good activist and the bad traitor. It’s up to you to decide which side to take. Without the words ‘the sitting president makes every molecule of my being sick’, it was unlikely that Sophie Cunningham would remain merely a player who had reported a rather rough opponent for fouls. Her reputation for being harmless and likeable was now lost. And so the issue arises. The Trump loyalists (those who remain) are very taken with this. They’re trying every trick in the book to capitalise on it. They’ll have to come up with plenty of distractions between now and November, when, at the mid-term elections, it’ll be a case of trying to hold back the tide with their bare hands.

But let’s return to the protagonist of the story. Blonde, from Missouri, and she does indeed resemble a Barbie doll. She states that she is somewhere in the middle: she shares some ideas from the right and some from the left. A position that is now the most inflammatory of all – staying silent is the new extremism. Then, the day before yesterday, came the fateful statement.

During an interview, Cunningham said she harboured no prejudice against transgender people, but added that she believed it was necessary to protect girls in changing rooms and in sporting competitions, arguing that they should not compete against biologically male athletes. Early warning: we’re in J.K. Rowling territory here. You risk being torn to pieces online. When pressed further – to allow for the appropriate U-turn in line with the new, self-styled progressive thinking – Cunningham failed to employ the standard ‘reputation market’ evasion tactic. That is to say: smiling calmly, deflecting a little, wavering a bit, and falling back on middle-of-the-road language. She did not say ‘you’ve dreamt it up’ or ‘I’ve been misunderstood!’, no, no – she actually reiterated the point, calling it a matter of common sense. You can’t have a man’s muscles and compete against us women. It’s not fair, it’s not right. But then, hang on: wouldn’t that be logical? It was all over. The digital enforcers swiftly initiated the online excommunication procedure. Many, however, agreed: even Martina Navratilova’s applause (emoticon) on the now-defunct Twitter yesterday.

This isn’t the first time athletes have revisited this topic, and it might be wise to avoid playing a game of hot potato with it. How many times has this issue come up? Imane Khelif at the Olympics, and then the story about the treatment to lower testosterone. Lia Thomas won because she swam with the muscles and physique – as well as the height and stamina – of a man. What do you make of this obvious fact I’ve just written? Is it cruel? Or is it simply the way things are? By modern standards, am I someone who ought to go to prison for crimes against sensibilities? How is it that we have not yet grown tired of the idiotic mechanics of this little game, which is always the same? We start with sacrosanct principles: dignity, equality, protection of minorities – and we end up checking whether we’re using the correct amount of lexical precautions, whilst in the end the ideological-performative influencers rake in the royalties. I have asked myself many times why we have come to this. At the moment, on the one hand: anyone who raises the issue of biological differences is deemed a persecutor of minorities. On the other: if you call for inclusion, you’re blamed for the decline of the West. All to avoid admitting an essential condition of living together: accepting that sometimes the right conclusions can come from unwelcome sources (one of my definitions of intelligence).