I loved playing football. I gave 12 years of my life to playing the game professionally. But those years were also marked by the pain of being trapped in a culture that condoned racism through a combination of ignorance, habit, and arrogance. In the end, the message to a young, black man like me was clear: I was only of value if I didn’t challenge the status quo.

In the past few weeks, I have re-lived the events that marked my final years of football. I have been repeatedly questioned about my experience – nine years of working in a culture where I was called “black cunt”, a “ni**er”, and a “slave” – all in the name of “fun”. I’ve been painted as mentally unwell, and once again my experiences have been dismissed by the institutions who have a duty to address them.

I find it worrying that both Collingwood and AFL officials have continually cast direct and and indirect aspersions on my mental health and wellbeing. I have been upfront about my struggles with depression in the past. It’s not unusual that a professional athlete might struggle under the enormous stress of performing at such levels. To see this history weaponised as a reason to now dismiss or discourage reporting on my story is deeply troubling and a dangerous precedent in a society where we are trying to encourage people to speak out about their difficulties.

My desire to see young Indigenous players and young players of colour come up through the sport that profits from their talents without being subjected to environments that belittle and humiliate them is not the result of ongoing or unresolved mental health issues.

In the past few days, the AFL has also responded to my story by announcing that it is a “national leader” with a strong record in the fight against racism, all while refusing to address or dignify the substance of my claims – despite former team-mates coming forward to confirm that they either witnessed or experienced the culture I have described.

What kind of “leading” anti-racist organisation would allow Adam Goodes, its highest profile Indigenous player, to be subjected to racist bullying without immediately condemning it? Or allow a club president like Eddie McGuire to compare that same player to an ape with no substantial sanctions or penalties such as those which are swiftly applied by sporting codes overseas?

The AFL’s reactions in these situations were more than incompetence. Their silence and inaction created dangerous public precedents for what kind of behaviours are deemed acceptable and appropriate.

There’s also a healthy degree of hypocrisy when the AFL preaches multiculturalism and inclusion on one hand, but continues to promote its brand via a program like the Footy Show which has been notorious for years of crude and gratuitous racism and sexism. It is naive to think that this is simply entertainment; it is a platform where powerful and influential personalities teach young people – particularly young men – how to behave and what kind of attitudes are acceptable.

I will never forget watching Nicky Winmar being humiliated on the Footy Show in 1999. In a single, crude act of blackface, Newman robbed him of his humanity and reduced him to a cruel punchline.

A tattoo on Héritier Lumumba’s back. Photograph: Michael Dodge/Getty Images

To me, this was the same psychology that would lead to the horrific mob behaviour that ended Adam Goodes’ career. You only need to watch Newman’s bitter, lengthy, televised rants about Goodes in the middle of the booing saga to see how such attitudes might have been encouraged.

It remains a permanent mark on the AFL’s history that they were unable to immediately and unequivocally condemn racism, and that they allowed a champion of the game to be bullied out of it forever.

As a victim of racism, I had nowhere to turn. I spoke to multiple coaches and club management about how I was affected, informed my player agent and the AFL Player’s Association, and chose not to speak with the league because of their history of failures.

When I spoke out about McGuire’s comments on Goodes, I was told I had “gone rogue” and “thrown the president under the bus”. When I made complaints about needing to create a safer club culture, I was told that I was “not in line with the Collingwood Football Club.”

There was a concerted campaign to push me out, despite still being contracted. It was clear that none of these people had the skills or education to recognise the significance of the problem.

Officials have dodged recent questions from media as though they were not aware of the compound effect that ongoing discrimination had on me, hiding the fact that I brought the situation to their attention multiple times.

What happened to me happens to people every day: at work, in classrooms, on public transport, and on the playground. I’m merely using my story to illustrate that even at the level of elite sports, individuals are not immune to being trapped in a culture that normalises racism.

I am grateful to former team-mates who have come forward to support me despite the risk to their future opportunities in football, and to the numerous football fans (including Collingwood fans) who have expressed their support for me.

No institution is immune to change or accountability.

The AFL is a major, multi-million dollar operation. It has the resources available to improve itself and its clubs if it wants to. It’s time to decide whether it wishes to be a true cultural leader or not. Eventually, the tide will turn. It always does.