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Long-time Hereford supporter and Chair of the London Bulls KD Rai has shared a personal account of the impact of a racist chant sung by some Hereford fans at the recent match against Merthyr.
'I have wrestled about writing this. It has been a tough season for the club and its fans, and I did not want to add further negativity or controversy. But I believe it is important to speak about the impact this chant, sung by some Hereford fans at the Merthyr game had on me. Staying silent on this issue would not have felt right; it would have felt cowardly. Not many people would have known about this incident, this is because I asked the club to respect my wishes and keep this matter confidential whilst I had some time to reflect and process what had happened.
As an Asian Hereford fan, I could not believe that after 21 years of following the club I love, I witnessed dozens of Hereford supporters singing “I’d rather be a P*ki than a Taff” loudly and repeatedly before kick-off at the Merthyr game, behind the goal. A game I was really looking forward to with my friends was totally ruined in seconds. What made it even more baffling and painful was recognising people I know among those singing it. Some of the same people who, only months earlier against Worksop, would have held up a “Give Racism the Red Card” placard. How do you make sense of that one?
This is a chant my dad’s generation warned me about, he and many of his generation witnessed England fans chanting “I’d rather be a P*ki then a Turk” when England played Turkey in 2003. Football grounds felt unsafe and unwelcoming for people like us. None of my family traditionally went to football because of that history. I had always convinced my dad that things had changed from the 80s and 90s, that chants like this no longer existed, that football was different now. But when I heard it for myself that day, I could not believe it.
In over 300 games across 23 countries, I had never once heard a similar chant to this in person. I believed it had been banished to the past.
So, when I heard it, my first instinct was denial. I pretended I hadn’t heard it. I prayed it wasn’t what I thought it was. When my worst fears were confirmed, my heart sank. I wanted the ground to swallow me up. I will never forget the cold rush of blood to my head. In that moment, I felt like this was no longer my club, that I no longer belonged. It was the worst I have ever felt at a football game.
This wasn’t a case of “one or two bad apples.” This was dozens of fans. As someone who travels hundreds of miles, spends a significant amount of money following the club, and has dedicated countless hours helping to run the London Bulls, to be reduced to a racial slur by fellow supporters was sickening. It is unacceptable.
I have a thick skin. I am a former Prison Officer who worked in a high-security jail, and I am a current referee, it takes a lot to rattle me. But when the chant started again for a second time, I felt completely checked out. I wanted to go home. When the late equaliser went in, I should have been going berserk but for the first time in my life, I didn’t celebrate the Hereford goals. That alone says everything. It left me with deeply complicated feelings about my relationship with the club and whether I even belonged there anymore.
What hurts most is that the chant went unchallenged. It was simply accepted. That, to me, feels dystopian, that such a chant could be sung so freely, without consequence or resistance. We have an Asian club doctor, have had past Asian players and more Asian fans. Why on earth would you sing that?
I am afraid of reporting incidents like this because of the backlash that so often follows. People like me don’t just relive the original incident we are often targeted again for speaking up. We are questioned, doubted, scrutinised, and too often treated as the problem. It becomes a form of being punished twice.
It is nerve wracking publishing something like this and being vulnerable for the world to see, however I honestly don’t care anymore. Racism is getting worse in society and I’m getting fed up of it. It’s important to stand up for yourself and for what’s right. There will no doubt be people that will have an issue with what I am saying, but that say’s a lot more about them and their moral compass more than anything else if they take issue with someone standing up to racism.
All I have ever wanted is to follow my club like everyone else. To go to games, to celebrate goals, to argue about results, and to share that joy and frustration with my friends without having to brace myself, without having to explain myself, and without leaving feeling ashamed, angry, or diminished. I don’t want to have to deal with racism as part of supporting the team I love. I don’t want to go home feeling terrible because of something I had no control over. Supporting a football club should not come with conditions attached to who you are.
I do want to be clear: the club itself has been brilliant, proactive, supportive, and understanding. I was incredibly proud of the club’s response to the Sporting Khalsa incident, and I want to thank Stig and Joanie Roberts in particular for showing real allyship and leadership in this situation too. I will always be grateful to them.
Those who sang the chant will never truly understand how it makes people like me feel. They will never fully grasp the degrading nature of that slur or its violent historical context. They will dismiss this and lace the racism as “banter” or “free speech.”
When you sang that chant, you weren’t singing at Merthyr. You were singing at me. At people like me. You weren’t showing passion or backing your club you were reminding us that no matter how long we’ve been here, how much we’ve given, or how deeply we care, we can still be reduced to a racial slur in seconds.
I held everything in that night and tried to act like nothing happened but the next morning, I just broke down in tears in front of my family as the weight of what had happened finally hit me. The situation has really impacted my mental health and has made me feel isolated.
The club I love, and some of its own supporters, let one of their own down that night and I had never felt more alone.
There are amazing people within this fan base, people I respect deeply and consider friends. But I am hurting. Right now, I am genuinely unsure whether following Hereford is for people like me, or whether it ever truly will be. People like me do not feel safe on the terraces anymore, racism is getting worse by the day and becoming more normalised and accepted.
Because of this experience, I have decided to take time away from following the club for now. I have also stepped back from the London Bulls, a group I consider family, a real community that has taken enormous effort to rebuild and that has brought me so much joy. This decision comes from sadness, helplessness, and anger.
I keep thinking about this: if the 10-year-old version of me had attended that game or even the Sporting Khalsa game, there would have been no 21 years of following this club. That would have been my first and last match. I do not want any other fan to ever feel that way.
I believe in education. If anyone sang this chant without understanding its impact, I am open to conversation. I am willing to chat and help educate. What does the term ‘P*ki’ even mean anyway? It is a horrible, degrading slur that is used to just generalise anyone that has brown skin in truth.
Think about what you say. Think about who is around you. Words carry weight and have more impact than you think.
I don’t know what comes next for me. But I do know this: no matter what, I will always love this club.
Things have to change'.
KD Rai