I know what a khawd can mean. Here’s why the NRL is struggling to understand Tigers gesture
Story by Michael Chammas
As the NRL contemplates what to do with the Wests Tigers players who gave Bulldogs fans a ‘khawd’ on Sunday afternoon, it’s important to point out the complexities surrounding the historic use of the Arabic gesture.
As someone of Middle Eastern background who grew up in the heavily Arab-populated western Sydney suburb of Merrylands, few are better qualified to explain the connotations of the khawd.
While some in Middle Eastern culture find it derogatory, it also carries a more playful undertone that is becoming increasingly dominant with the younger generation in postcodes where you’ll find an OG charcoal chicken shop.
Khawd by definition means “take that” or “cop that”. It can be used as an “up yours”, but in recent years it has also become something of an affectionate gesture used among the Australian-Arabic community. It’s all in the context and execution.
Even at Sunday’s games there were different examples of the sign. Proud Lebanese Bulldogs winger Jacob Kiraz spotted fellow Lebanese Tigers player Adam Doueihi across CommBank Stadium before the game.
No hugs. No fancy handshakes. Just a “lek khawd” from across the field with a smile that was part, ‘We’re going to smash you later’ and part, ‘Love you, brother’.
This is where it becomes murky for the NRL. Administrators may not fully grasp the meaning of the gesture or when/how it can be used and are relying on the interpretation of others to determine whether they should be amused or handing out breach notices for bringing the game into disrepute.
There’s no doubt the Tigers players, fuelled by emotion in a spiteful game, meant the gesture as an “up yours” to Doggies fans who give out khawds for fun.
And quite often, it is for fun. Like when you beat your brother 4-3 with a 90th-minute winner in a game of FIFA after he spent the whole match talking up how good he is. You give him a khawd.
When Bulldogs fans gather for a photo and don’t want to stand there posing awkwardly – as highlighted on social media over the past few days – they give the camera a khawd.
When the Tigers wrap up a sweet victory over the Bulldogs with Lachlan Galvin at halfback after his messy mid-season walk-out, you definitely give a khawd.
The Arabic community has been bemused during the past 48 hours as the rugby league news cycle discovers a gesture that has now skyrocketed in popularity, despite some horrific pronunciations by my friends in the media.
It’s not “quad”. It’s not “cord”. Or khouf, as our Mediterranean brother Braith Anasta pronounced it on NRL360 on Monday night, an attempt that sounded more like a Greek island than an Arabic sledge.
The “khhh” needs to sound like you’re clearing your throat, finished off with an ‘awd’ that is said with the kind of passion the Tigers finally played with on Sunday.
The Bulldogs complained to the NRL on behalf of some of their fans who took offence to the Tigers’ gesture. But did those fans take offence to the gesture, or because they were on the receiving end of it?
And what does the NRL do now? Punish players for a gesture that has connotations that are as difficult to understand as the word is to pronounce for the non-Arabic speaking community?
The NRL is concerned that by doing nothing it will create a rod for its back the next time a player goes down the more traditional route of flipping the bird at the crowd.
They’ve previously handed out breaches to players for doing so, hitting Matt Lodge with a $5000 fine when he raised his middle finger to the Gold Coast Titans crowd while playing for the Warriors in 2021.
Brent Naden would’ve become familiar with the khawd during his tenure at Belmore. He was one of three players, along with Samuela Fainu and Latu Fainu, to use the gesture towards to the crowd on Sunday.
He followed it up after the game with a video of giving the khawd and saying “f—ing dogs”. It was meant to be a private message, but ended up being shared on social media.
Naden will probably be fined by the NRL for doubling down. But Sunday’s events should be seen as an illustration of the unmatched tribalism, rough edges and all, that sets rugby league apart from other competitions – like the potentially forthcoming Rugby 360.
The Tigers have been bashed for more than a decade. I’ve pulled on the gloves and dispensed an uppercut or three. But Sunday afternoon was as good as it gets for their long-suffering fans, who were entitled to enjoy the moment.
They beat the team whose coach rejected them. The team whose halfback walked out on them for. And did it in front of a rival supporter base who continues to take great pleasure in their misery.
If ever a situation called for a khawd, Sunday was it. Play on.
