When Diane Abbott stated that racism based on skin colour is different from other types of racism, many rushed to condemn her. Yet recent events involving England footballer Jess Carter show just how accurate and necessary that observation was. Carter, a central figure in the Lionesses squad with 49 England caps, revealed she had been subjected to racial abuse online throughout the UEFA Women’s Euros in Switzerland. Her words were direct and painful: “I have experienced a lot of racial abuse… I don’t agree or think it’s OK to target someone’s appearance or race.”
This wasn’t abuse following a mistake or a controversial comment; it began from the moment she stepped onto the pitch. Carter is a Black woman. Her race is visible. She cannot choose when or whether to disclose it. And for that alone, she was targeted. This is exactly what Diane Abbott was pointing out when she said: “Clearly, there must be a difference between racism which is about colour and other types of racism because you can see a Traveller or a Jewish person walking down the street, you don’t know.” She wasn’t denying the existence or seriousness of anti-Semitism or anti-Traveller racism. She was making a sociologically sound observation: racism based on visible skin colour often operates differently. It is immediate. It requires no explanation. It is imposed the moment someone is seen.
Jess Carter didn’t have to speak, act, or reveal anything about herself. Her presence alone was enough to trigger racist abuse. That is the brutal reality of colour-based racism; one that operates on sight, that is relentless, and that offers no hiding place. Sociologists such as Frantz Fanon and Stuart Hall have written about this for decades. Fanon described how the Black body becomes a surface for projection, a symbol onto which society attaches fear, disgust, or suspicion. Stuart Hall argued that the visual representation of race in culture, particularly of Black people, is deeply coded with historical meaning, often casting the Black individual as threatening, different, or lesser, purely by virtue of their appearance.
When Abbott pointed out that this kind of racism is distinct from other forms, she was highlighting that visibility matters. A Jewish person may not be visibly identifiable unless they express their faith or disclose their background. An Irish Traveller may not be discriminated against until someone learns their name, address, or community links. Their racism is real, often systemic, and frequently violent. but it operates through recognition and revelation. The racism Carter faced, and that Black people across society endure daily, is based on what is seen before a word is spoken.
Abbott’s critics framed her words as a hierarchy of suffering, but that was never the point. The real danger lies in flattening all forms of racism into one undifferentiated category. Doing so ignores the unique ways each form functions, the particular histories they stem from, and the specific vulnerabilities different groups face. It also leads to vague responses that fail to address the actual mechanisms of oppression. To fight racism effectively, we need clarity, not confusion.
Jess Carter’s experience shows why this clarity matters. Even as she performs at the highest level, representing her country in an international tournament, she is not spared from the bile that racism unleashes. The Lionesses have spoken out in support of her. The Football Association condemned the abuse. The police are investigating. But Carter herself has said that more needs to be done. “It is clear we and football need to find another way to tackle racism,” she said. That “other way” starts with recognising that not all racism looks the same, feels the same, or works the same.
Taking the knee, while once powerful, has begun to feel symbolic without structural change behind it. Carter stepping back from social media wasn’t just an act of self-care, it was a reminder that this abuse isn’t an exception, it’s a pattern. And unless we understand how and why it happens, especially to visibly racialised people, we’ll never truly dismantle it.
In the end, Jess Carter’s bravery and clarity prove Diane Abbott’s point beyond dispute. Abbott did not dismiss anyone’s pain. She called for us to recognise how racism based on skin colour is constant, public, and inescapable. Carter, by being targeted simply for existing, has shown that this distinction is not abstract theory, it’s lived reality. Those who criticised Abbott failed to see this truth. But Carter’s experience makes it impossible to ignore. Understanding racism in all its forms means listening to the people who live through it. And if we truly want to change things, we must start by acknowledging how and where racism hits hardest. Abbott was spot on. Jess Carter just proved it.
