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Illegal to Be Me, review: a wide-eyed Tom Daley is out of his depth exploring bigotry around the world

Olympic gold medalist turned TV presenter Tom Daley - BBC
Olympic gold medalist turned TV presenter Tom Daley - BBC

One of the memorable moments from this year’s Commonwealth Games opening ceremony (if not quite rivalling the snorting bull or Samuel Johnson-turned-Jabba the Hutt) came courtesy of Tom Daley. Though not competing, he carried the Queen’s Baton into the stadium while flanked by LGBT athletes and activists, all holding Pride flags and representing the 35 Commonwealth countries where homosexuality is still criminalised.

Tom Daley: Illegal to Be Me (BBC One) revisited the build-up to the ceremony as the idealistic diver entered uncharted waters. He is campaigning for organisers to announce a ban on nations with anti-LGBT laws hosting the Games, in order to improve the lives of their queer residents. But, as several people patiently explained to him, governments fuelled by religious zealotry couldn’t care less about sporting events. Nor do they want Britain dictating social policy to them.

That much of this came as a surprise to Daley was both the fascination and weakness of this one-off programme. He does recognise his own privilege: he has a safe, happy home with his husband, film-maker Dustin Lance Black, and young son. Yet even if the 28-year-old Daley has generational blinkers on, it’s disconcerting that he has so little awareness of what gay people in other countries experience. The default interviewing mode was wide-eyed astonishment, followed by shots of Daley leaning against walls looking pensive, as though posing for an indie album cover.

It gave the whole endeavour a My First Activism tinge. But then Daley’s naïveté may perhaps shock jaded viewers into viewing these grim statistics afresh. When he competed at the 2012 London Olympics, only 23 of the 11,000 athletes were out; there were more athletes called James. In over half of the countries competing in the 2022 Commonwealth Games, it’s illegal to be gay, with many carrying a sentence of life imprisonment, and three having the death penalty.

That includes Pakistan (death by stoning) where Daley made a cautious visit. A cricketer told him that being queer is considered a disease – one teammate called her a mutant. Another recalls her lover being forced into marriage; when she attended the wedding, the bride’s brothers beat her up. All spoke of depression, ostracising, suicidal thoughts. None believe Daley’s campaign will make a difference. It could even make things worse: a punishment like not allowing a nation to host the Games would pile the blame on gay people.

Daley speaks to a gay athlete whose identity has been hidden for their safety - BBC
Daley speaks to a gay athlete whose identity has been hidden for their safety - BBC

As he viewed videos of brutal attacks in Nigeria and Jamaica, or heard an asylum seeker from Barbados recount how his stepdad threw acid at him, causing second-degree burns, Daley cycled through anger, disbelief and sorrow. “It’s like something out of a horror film,” he exclaimed. But the knottiest section came when Daley received a history lesson on how homophobia is inextricably linked to the traumatic legacy of colonialism and slavery. It’s really not as simple as loftily judging other countries’ laws.

Though Daley’s own experience hardly compares, it was still interesting to hear him recount how he was afraid of losing his career if he revealed his sexuality, and how he overachieved in diving to offset that censure. His mum recalled him shaking when telling his grandparents; one set took it better than the other. Not everyone welcomed his coming out video: one person commented “We can’t have a bloody f-g representing us.” Most poignantly, Daley hopes his late father (after whom his son Robbie is named) would be proud of him.

All of which makes that opening ceremony moment, which formed the grand climax of the documentary, a qualified victory: a symbol of hope and solidarity, but hardly a blanket solution.

Earlier, Daley met with Katie Sadler, new CEO of the Commonwealth Games Federation, and pointed out that her inclusion policies were mere “rainbow-washing”; one could say the same of the ceremony flag-waving. But this feels like just the start of Daley’s probable post-retirement activities. He might be a cuddly knitter (yes, those needles come out on the plane) but his steely sign-off – “We’re not going anywhere” – means business. Daley hasn’t finished making waves.