Pressing back with Jenni Hermoso: Understanding the non-consensual kiss as abusive

When manager Luis Rubiales held her head and pressed his lips onto those of Jenni Hermoso on 20 August 2023, Hermoso’s only possible response was to comply. For many viewers, including the RFEF, her (un)reaction signalled the kiss as a ‘mutual gesture’ ¹ though only minutes later when asked on Instagram live what she thought of the kiss on the lips Hermoso replied, ‘I didn’t like it’. ² For the feminists in the room I’d like to think that perhaps Hermoso’s words triggered a large sharp ‘SNAP’. According to Sara Ahmed (2017), the snap is what occurs when women reach breaking points (p. 187). As a short, sharp word, we might expect snap to indicate a sudden break and interruption. Yet in Ahmed’s usage, the snap is something brought about gradually rather than abruptly, and it signals the end of something. She uses the example of a twig, writing ‘a snap would only be the beginning insofar as we did not notice the pressure on the twig’ (p. 189). Ahmed (2017, 2021) has elaborated upon the feminist snap as a key weapon in the arsenal of the feminist killjoy across several of her books. No doubt she would find the displeasure Hermoso expressed at Rubiales’ act agreeably disruptive: a snappy act. But I instead am caught, hooked, by the example of the twig under pressure. So what I want to explore is how Hermoso was forced-by-force. What I want to explore is a different question posed by Ahmed (2017): ‘[how] [c]an we redescribe the world from the point of view of those who are under pressure?’ (p. 189).

With his mouth roughly covering hers, effectively silencing and suffocating her, there is no doubt that Hermoso was ‘under pressure’ at the moment of the kiss. She was literally weighed down by the heaviness, compression and load of Rubiales’ body pressing upon hers. Applying Ahmed to this moment, it is useful to think of the kiss narratively, as a climax or end point in sagas that have been on-going, from the problematic management of women’s football in Spain and beyond (Congdon-Hohman and Matheson, 2014; García, 2024; Neys and Juskowiak, 2024; Pfister, 2015; Valiente, 2021), to the unequal situation for women in all sports (see Anderson and Hargreaves, 2016; Markula, 2005; Park and Vertinsky, 2013 among others). To do so is to press back on the kiss – and fortify the twig – with feminist killjoy energy. To do so, we must employ two contradictory manoeuvres, first we must get closer to the kiss, evacuating any blurriness as to its non-consensual nature, second, we must zoom out from it, adopting an overhead view. From such a position, we can operate as lookout, in a state of vigilance, in charge of the observation of hazards and facilitating an understanding of where the kiss fits within a wider context of sexual harassment and abuse.

As Thomas and Kitzinger (1997) argue, the concept of sexual harassment registers that ‘the most humdrum and insignificant of things’, once collected together and compared can be seen to be ‘about power, influence and control’ (pp. 7–8). Drawing closer to the kiss allows us to insist upon its significance as a big act that cannot be ignored, rather than a small act that we can dismiss or overlook – an unacceptable ‘attack on bodily autonomy’ ³ rather than ‘a peck between two friends’. ⁴ I choose my words carefully, intending to draw from film scholars’ understanding of the ‘close up’ as providing two possible views. According to Doane (2003), there are close ups which offer an increase in scale, which de-contextualises objects, abstracting them from the scene and making them inarticulable; by contrast, those close ups which increase our proximity to people and objects retain their context, making them sensible and legible. It is the latter form of close up that I will employ here.

Initially, drawing closer addresses the mythic nature of kisses (see Zecchi, this volume), conceived as the most romantic and therefore reciprocal of acts. Those who sign up to this view use it as an excuse to see the Rubiales/Hermoso kiss as an impulsive act that is part of a ‘passionate moment’ ⁵ that we should not judge and may even enjoy watching. Instead, magnification is necessary in order to focus attention upon how a kiss can be non-consensual. A peck on the cheek can certainly be unwanted, yet in this instance it is crucial to remember that what Rubiales forced upon Hermoso, with his powerful grip and energetic approach, was a kiss on the mouth. The placement makes all the difference. As any philematologist will tell you, a kiss on the mouth is the synecdoche for the sex act (Williams, 2008: 38). Even more graphically, as Kinsey researchers put it: ‘[t]he lips, the tongue, and the whole interior of the mouth constitute or could constitute for most individuals an erogenous area of nearly as great significance as the genitalia’ (Kinsey, 1953: 587 quoted in Opler, 1969: 1). Once seen in so much detail, we can argue that through his enforced kiss Rubiales made what should have been a public, professional moment instead all about him and Jenni. Therefore, we need to analyse the temporality of the kiss, how it shifts, in media res, from public expression to private impression, from something that is let out, to something that is forced in, or from a disclosure to an enclosure.

The kiss can be seen as an expression and disclosure because it takes place within a public parade of congratulations; yet the arc of Rubiales kiss exceeds the codes and conventions of visual display that are appropriate at such an event, which consists of the Spanish team going from one dignitary to the next as they stand in a long line. Stopping in front of each person, a few words are exchanged before moving on. In each case, contact is made in the form of a handshake or a hug, a kiss is more occasional and in all cases, apart from Rubiales, is on the cheek. During the parade of congratulations, Rubiales is the most demonstrative of all the dignitaries. We witness a repeated pattern of him exuberantly throwing his arms around the players and, when height differences compel them to rest their heads across his collar bone, kissing their cheek or beneath their ear. With Hermoso though, Rubiales does not stop at the cheek, instead his contact with her adopts an even more intimate trajectory, driven by a kind of compulsory power, a power that has a compulsion to it that makes it unavoidable. As the compulsion builds, so the kiss shifts, becoming something that will enclose Hermoso.

As Rubiales turns his head to face Hermoso we glimpse how ravages weaken the twig. For in this moment, pressure manifests through the pure physical force that compels Hermoso into an act that requires mutuality if it is to be successfully executed. As Linda Williams discusses in relation to cinematic kisses, the kiss ‘precludes visibility’ (33). For in the cinema, at the moment when lips are (literally) sealed, the two kissers faces are so close together that it is almost impossible for audiences to see what is going on. Hence Williams analyses how, if it is to remain understood as a reciprocal – read consensual–act, the cinematic kiss requires a complex choreography. In order to magically meet at the lips, perfectly lined up, kissing requires the accurate steering of faces towards each other, the precise turning of the head to accommodate noses and cheeks and the scrupulous meeting of lips at exactly the right moment. It is no wonder, given the capacity for disaster, that film style often intervenes, as kisses are frequently re-framed or re-edited towards sensory rather than signifying images, with sound carefully modified so that the actualities of damp skin meeting sloppy insides does not destroy the hyper-idealisation of the moment.

Reanimating the non-consensual kiss in the Sydney stadium, we see that there is no polite choreography involved, instead, Rubiales proceeds from cheek kissing to holding Hermoso’s head in one continuous movement, with precision assured by his hands over her ears, fingers spread wide, showing the strength, determination and intention of his grip. The lack of hesitation showcases his sense of privilege and lack of consideration for Hermoso’s wishes. Thus, Hermoso is given no choice about whether or not to reciprocate, or how to negotiate the kiss on her own terms.

It is in the thrust forward that follows Rubiales’ hand-grip that the fact that Hermoso was forced-by-force is most evident. This brief instance has been the most replayed, slowed and paused by viewers and analysed, debated and discussed by journalists, broadcasters, influencers, fans and even the RFEF, creating a kind of forensic (Mittell, 2009) frenzy. Commentators have drawn attention to how Rubiales was seen to be ‘firmly’ and ‘forcibly’ (BBC News, 2023) (rather than gently and carefully) holding Hermoso’s head, such that she had no way to avoid (or consent to) the kiss on her lips; while attention to her flailing arms suggested to some that ‘this was not expected or welcomed or wanted’. ⁶ Over and above these interpretations from media outlets, the RFEF made use of the footage to refute Hermoso’s claim that she didn’t like it, yet there was nothing she could do. Covering the RFEF’s deliberations the British newspaper The Daily Mail (2023) printed a visual analysis with blow-by-blow commentary, in order to break down their argument for the paper’s readers. The resulting photo spread is curiously reminiscent of Eadweard Muybridge’s ‘scientific’ photographic studies of motion, and there is in fact a pseudo-scientific or empirical implication to the RFEF’s analysis. For them, the fact that Hermoso’s body was bent slightly backwards from the knees, while Rubiales seemed to be lifted towards her, with his feet off the ground, was evidence that ‘she [was] performing an action of force’ (implying full involvement and even initiation) while he ‘could exert no force’. The Daily Mail (2023) undermines this assertion, closing the spread by stating that ‘closer analysis of the video shows that Rubiales lifted himself off the ground’.

Unwittingly, the RFEF’s elaborate justification (fit for an intro course on ‘Visual Analysis 101’) actually undermines their claims. For if the kiss was ‘a mutual gesture’, ⁷ then there would be no need for any force on either side. Etymologically, several understandings of ‘force’ are significant here: the Latin root is ‘fortis’ or strong and one definition ‘energy of body or mind’ includes ‘active power’. Drilling down still further into the kind of power that is exerted by force we find ‘a physical quality that denotes ability to push, pull, twist or accelerate a body and which has a direction’. ⁸ Thus, when he holds her head steady and thrusts his weight forward, Rubiales takes complete control of his interaction with Hermoso, treating her like an object and overwhelming her excited and exhilarated energy at winning the world cup with his erotic abusive energy.

By drawing closer to the kiss, I have argued that we are able to see it clearly, as a big act, an attack on bodily autonomy that is far from romantic, and as enclosing Hermoso in an intimate choreography that is not of her making or desire. Turning now to our second manoeuvre in which we adopt an overhead view, as lookout, we can re-visit some of the details already identified and situate them in a wider context of sexism and abuse, in sport and beyond. First, let’s go back to the moment when Rubiales proceeds from cheek kissing to holding Hermoso’s head. To do so, he travels along a trajectory, I observed, that is motored by compulsory power. Here, we glimpse an instance of the pressure that Ahmed argues builds up on the twig, causing it to weaken over time. For Rubiales’ actions are so swift and unhesitating as to be automatic. The confidence he exhibits that he can grip Hermoso’s head, with no need to ask for consent to do so, points to the fact that he has pushed over professional boundaries before now, such that they no longer exist for him. Viewed from a vigilant position we can connect the compulsory power that shifts the encounter beyond the limits of public visual display into an act of intimate contact with abuses of power, both specific, in the Spanish football management and more generally, in sport and society.

The second detail we can re-visit is how, by enlarging the detail of the kiss, we can insist upon its significance. It is clearly important to isolate and name incidents such as the Rubiales/Hermoso kiss as non-consensual. But, returning to Thomas and Kitzinger, it is equally important to connect and compare such incidents; such work was swiftly undertaken by public protest with banners at sporting events featuring Hermoso’s name and declaring solidarity such as ‘Estamos contigo Jenni/With you Jenni’; ‘we stand with Jenni: enough is enough’ and ‘Todos Somos Jenni (We are all Jenni)’ which was later re-posted on X by Yolanda Díaz, acting second deputy prime minister of Spain. ⁹

Operating as lookout, in a state of vigilance, there is the possibility to see how the world looks from the point of view of those who are under pressure, as Ahmed puts it. More importantly, we have the chance to press back. Among the effects that 6 years of #Metoo has had on public consciousness of sexual violence and abuse, one effect must be to reduce the delay between the moment of abuse and our understanding of it as such. For when Hermoso acknowledged, minutes after the non-consensual kiss, that it was unwanted, her words were immediately contextualised and added to other archives, memories and records already in the public domain. The more we can meet the build up of pressure by pressing back, the less strain there will be on the twig, and the less chance of it snapping. Hence, the Rubiales/Hermoso non-consensual kiss punctuates post #Metoo discourse. It leaves an impression upon the women’s world cup that has applied pressure to sexism and misogyny within womens’ sport; but the question remains, will it leave a permanent imprint?