Rafaela Borggräfe and the problem with ‘moving on’

“There comes a point when we need to stop just pulling people out of the river. We need to go upstream and find out why they’re falling in.”

Liverpool’s Rafaela Borggräfe is currently serving a six-match ban for using racially discriminatory language last summer. The investigation into the 25-year-old commenced after an incident during the Reds’ pre-season tour in the Republic of Ireland.

Gareth Taylor’s public remarks have emphasised the need to move on from the incident. But what are we learning when closure is equated with progress? Does preferring to sweep issues under the rug teach us anything, or is it simply a means to avoid difficult yet necessary conversations?

Taylor’s blasé response

Let’s cross-examine into Taylor’s comments:

“The FA have sanctioned her with a six-match ban,” he said on Friday. “That has been ongoing whilst we’ve been playing. So effectively, she will be out of the running to be involved this weekend, but after that, she’s available for selection”.

At first glance, these remarks are fairly unremarkable. It’s the sort of response a PR team would craft. But then, he veers off-script and tries to neutralise the incident:

“The situation is the situation. The team and the club have acted in the appropriate way. We support the FA’s investigation. I will say it’s dragged on a little bit. I think that’s been frustrating for everyone involved, particularly Rafa.

“We are happy now that it’s completed and that we have some actual detail on what it looks like, and all of us can move on.”

“The situation is the situation” is a textbook case of passive framing, focusing on inevitability rather than responsibility. Taylor is under no obligation to withhold details or temper his words now that the investigation has concluded. By choosing this phrasing, he distances himself and the club from accountability.

He identifies that the process has been difficult, yet frames Borggräfe as the primary sufferer. Somehow, the disciplined player is portrayed as the one most impacted. There’s no mention of the individual subjected to racial abuse or the emotional toll on wider communities.

Describing the investigation as having “dragged on for a bit” is insensitive and dismissive. It’s taken as long as it does because of the severity of the offence and the complexity of the legal procedures involved - things I imagine Taylor is fully aware of.

The framing matters because it reinforces the idea that addressing discrimination is an inconvenience and that resolution should be sought at all costs, even if it comes at the expense of justice.

Taylor’s closing statement is arguably the most revealing: “all of us can move on”. It implies that further discussion or reflection is unnecessary. Racism isn’t an isolated misjudgement, but a systemic issue. Prioritising character over learning will never lead to lasting change.

This isn’t just a Liverpool problem

Women’s football is regarded as a safer and more inclusive space - one that openly embraces LGBTQ + individuals and supports ethnic minorities at risk of abuse. Yet this positive reputation can lead to a dangerous misconception: that incidents of racism feel like aberrations, not indicators of deeper problems.

This is what happens when things feel too safe. When microaggressions aren’t directly affecting your life, it’s easy to dismiss them as minor flaws rather than signs of widening cracks.

​Taylor’s language adopts a calm, procedural tone, aiming to manage the fallout, even if it means dampening the sparks of reflection.

If you’re paying attention, you’ll notice racial bias in subtle but telling ways. For instance, the commentary used to describe aggression in a player like Lauren James versus Katie McCabe. One is labeled by pundits as spunky, fiery, passionate - and it isn’t the four-time WSL champion.

Much of the onus for improvement falls on the FA. Their track record on efficient investigative practices is far from stellar. The ‘Mark Sampson vs Eniola Aluko’ debacle was a prime example. The internal processes were widely criticised for failing to fully address the allegations and, later, prompted an apology to Aluko and Drew Spence.

​But I digress. In Borggräfe’s case, the question isn’t what the governing body has done wrong, but whether what they’re doing is enough. Or maybe it’s both?

There are good case studies, too; examples of clubs taking decisive action. In 2019, Sheffield United forward Sophie Jones was banned for racially abusing Tottenham Hotspur’s Renée Hector.

Jones received a five-match suspension, a fine, and was ordered to attend an FA education course. But the board went a step further, terminating her contract by ‘mutual consent’ - a polite euphemism for being shown the door.

Closure is not progress

Borggräfe will be available for selection once she completes an education programme that we likely won’t be clued in on.

​Equality, diversity, and inclusion workshops on discriminatory language are rarely tailored to the specifics of the incident itself. Can we really call these sessions rehabilitative when the burden of ‘moving on’ often falls on the victims?

​Education is presented as remediation, not accountability. The rest remains...unknown. Time and again, a lack of transparency has encumbered victims and perpetuates the misconception that closure equals progress.

The reality is this: progress means keeping the conversation open, not sealing it away like a box of old Christmas decorations you shove into a dark attic corner.