The media scrum was greater than for a Champions League final. All up the staircases to the press tribune, reporters sat three abreast on the makeshift metal steps, any seats having been snaffled hours earlier.
In the mixed zone, the area where boxers were interviewed as soon as they left the ring, you had to pick your way gingerly through a forest of boom microphones. And there, at the heart of the melee, was the fighter everyone clamoured to see: a dominant, defiant Imane Khelif, striding out of a fevered North Paris Arena and into a scene of unbridled chaos.
Even Tyson Fury would have struggled amid the madness. As such, it was little surprise that Khelif, seeing the wild inquisition that awaited, burst into tears. A week ago, few outside the Algerian’s own family had heard of this welterweight from Tiaret, in the nation’s northwest. Now the 25-year-old was the object of global scrutiny, a test case for the International Olympic Committee’s failure to govern the female category in the Games’ most lethal sport.
Khelif had one striking message for any critics: “I am a woman.” But not according to the International Boxing Association, whose DNA tests on the athlete had revealed the presence of X and Y chromosomes, the genetic make-up of a man. This is a frenzy intensifying by the day, the further Khelif advances towards an Olympic title and the more desperate the IOC obfuscation becomes. Just a few hours after Thomas Bach appeared confused as to the basic differences between transgender athletes and those with differences in sexual development, Khelif continued to cut a swathe across the competition, demolishing Hungary’s Anna Luca Hamori.
The sense of extreme polarisation at ringside was uncomfortable. Outside the venue, public disquiet increased over how an apparently biological male had been permitted to punch women. Inside, a 600-strong Algerian contingent made sure the dynamic was sharply different, bedecking an entire stand in the green, red and white of their national flag. Where Khelif’s entrance was greeted with the lustiest cheers, Hamori walked out to a chorus of cat-calls.
This reflected the fact that the Hungarian had shared a picture hours earlier depicting the Algerian as a beast. It was needlessly crude framing, but these three three-minute rounds again highlighted Khelif’s ability to overpower an opponent. The spectacle was less shocking than the beating meted out to Italy’s Angela Carini, who took just two punches before deciding she could not carry on, reflecting that she had never felt blows like it. But it was still the most emphatic victory, with Khelif winning unanimously in every round, receiving one 10-8 score from the Mongolian judge in the second.
While Khelif was docked a point for holding in the third, the penalty had no impact, given how wide the margins on the scorecards were. The Algerian thumped the canvas in triumph when the result was announced, before being quickly ushered out of the ring by support staff. Overwhelmed by the level of attention, Khelif spoke only briefly in English, declaring: “I feel good. It’s the first medal for a woman from Algeria. I’m very happy. I want to thank all the world, the Arabic world.”
Typically, the lifespan of an Olympic scandal is finite, a couple of days at most. The sheer blizzard of storylines ensures that a single commotion can rarely be sustained beyond 48 hours. The Khelif tumult, though, seems poised to run and run. Already the IBA is preparing a press conference for Monday morning to express confidence in the test results on which it disqualified Khelif and Taiwan’s Lin Yu-ting from last year’s world championship. The IOC, by contrast, is digging itself an ever deeper hole, with Bach expressing a bizarre and unscientific conviction that someone can be pronounced female based on passport status.
Come Tuesday night, the circus moves across Paris to Roland Garros, the setting for Khelif’s semi-final bout against Janjaem Suwannapheng of Thailand. Khelif is already guaranteed a bronze but looks ready to fight for gold, fuelled by the international outrage that this episode has unleashed. Among Algerians in all spheres, the wagons are being circled. Ismael Bennacer, a defensive midfielder for AC Milan, took umbrage at an “unjustified wave of hatred”, arguing: “Her presence at the Olympic Games is quite simply the fruit of her talent and hard work.”
It was a message amplified by Abderrahmane Hammad, Algeria’s sports minister, who said: “Imane is our daughter, our sister. Imane is a red line. I strongly condemn the harassment she has suffered. Carry on, Imane – all of Algeria is behind you.” The Algerian Olympic Committee denounced the “false propaganda and immoral behaviour towards our champion”.
The grievances on each side are growing ever more entrenched. It is approaching the point where you wonder how the IOC can possibly hope to temper the crisis. Even when it is pointed out to Bach that biology is all that matters when judging the eligibility of Khelif to fight women, he retreats into the vapid rhetoric that a boxer can be called a woman based on legal documents. His organisation is still inclined to regard womanhood as some abstract concept.
But this is a true flesh-and-blood controversy. Hamori could have contended for a medal and instead leaves with nothing, having lost to a boxer whose very involvement here is disputed. While the authorities remain oblivious, the fires are raging out of control.
Source Agencies
