If there is one thing that sport helps to unmask is the fact that we have so much work to do when it comes to issues of racism, sexism and other discriminatory practices. That was evident after LSU’s victory over Iowa in the NCAA women’s championship game.
Both teams and star players Angel Reese and Caitlin Clark left it all on the court in the Tigers’ 102-85 victory over the Hawkeyes.
But after the game, some took to social media and showed their true, and often misguided colors.
Despite all of the excitement around the game, no one could stop talking about Reese’s “You Can’t See Me,” gesture at Clark, a moment that exposed the racism and hypocrisy rife in sports.
Yet the situation isn’t as simple as a gesture. Rather, it illustrates just how deeply anti-Black racism and misogynoir are rooted within all social institutions here in the US, including sports.
We often hear about racism and sexism in sports, particularly within sports media. But we need to be intentional in our use of language and think more deeply about the impact of anti-Black racism specifically, especially in light of all of the vitriol that’s been flung directly at Angel Reese.
Anti-Blackness functions in two ways. It:
1) Strips Blackness of value (dehumanizes)
2) Systematically marginalizes Black people.
Anti-Blackness essentially operates as an overt form of racism. The fact that White women and men are calling Angel Reese classless and disrespectful for using the same gesture that Clark did against Louisville in the Elite Eight is questionable at best and deeply anti-Black and misogynistic at its worst.
If you’re wondering where the dehumanization and marginalization are, look no further than the comments calling Reese “a piece of sh*t” or a “f**king idiot,” across Twitter.
These are clear indicators of the constant fact that we live in a world where Black girls and women are never given the benefit of the doubt. Where Black girls and women (and Black people broadly) are always suspect and always under suspicion. Our actions, when embodied by non-Black folk are considered normal aspects of living, but Black people’s bodies are not respected or regarded as fully human. Serena Williams was often called out for throwing “tantrums,” reactions that sports commentators would chalk up to “boys will be boys,” when it came to grown white men.
“This is for the girls that look like me.”
Black girls and women are considered ratchet, or angry, and loud, when in fact they are passionate, and engaging in the usual trash talk that comes with playing sports.
But who comes to our defense?
Who “rescues,” or “defends” Black girls and Black women?
Oftentimes, we are the ones who step in and protect us.
Angel Reese has known that from jump.
“All year, I was critiqued about who I was,” Reese said. “The narrative — I don’t fit the narrative. I don’t fit into the box that y’all want me to be in. ‘I’m too hood. I’m too ghetto.’ Y’all told me that all year.
“But when other people do it, y’all don’t say nothing. So this is for the girls that look like me, that’s gonna speak on for what they believe in. It’s unapologetically you. And that’s what I did it for tonight.
“This was bigger than me tonight. Twitter is gonna go on a rage every time. And I’m happy. I feel like I’ve helped grow women’s basketball this year.”
A single game will always be bigger than a single player, especially when that player is Black and a girl/woman.
Moreover, Angel Reese is right in that she has helped the game by being unapologetically herself.
Black women aren’t allowed to be themselves for when they are, people are uncomfortable.
But we’re not here for other people’s comfort. That’s not our job.
As a Black feminist scholar writing a book on Black feminism and Black girls/women, I love watching Black girls/women be their authentic selves, leaning into self-definition and self-valuation. We’ve lived in a world where everyone feels as though they have the right to tell us who we are and who we should be.
Well, we should be loud. We should be colorful, carefree, soft, hard, or whoever and whatever else we want to be without being policed, surveilled, brutalized, traumatized, victimized, silenced, or murdered.
From Flo-Jo and Sha’Carri Richardson to Serena Williams and Simone Biles, Black women have been unapologetically themselves and are winning.
Others want to enjoy the spoils of Black womanhood, yet they don’t want to live with the consequences of what we encounter daily. And that’s the hypocrisy of vilifying Angel while praising Caitlin.
The Twitter folks that have side-by-side images of Clark and Reese in the same pose calling Clark a “Queen” and Reese a “thug” are much too close to those like Don Imus, who branded the 2007 Rutgers Women’s basketball team “nappy-headed hoes,” and the University of Tennessee team as “cute.” The racial/gendered dynamics are far too similar as well.
The truth is that the same white men and women calling Angel Reese classless and disrespectful are likely the same ones in favor of policing and surveilling Black girls in K-12 classrooms, on the sidewalks, in libraries, in grocery stores and on college campuses.
It’s not lost on me that LSU’s team is predominantly Black and Iowa’s is largely white. Don’t tell me that this isn’t about race. Moreover, don’t tell me this isn’t specifically about anti-Black racism and misogynoir. I’m literally writing the book on it.
If you take issue with a young Black woman being confident in her moment of victory perhaps you should check yourself first rather than trying to check her.
Love & Basketball
Last week, Iowa coach Lisa Bluder said rebounding against South Carolina was akin to being in a “bar fight,” yet she has been able to pass her words off as “tongue in cheek.” Meanwhile, a Black girl/woman sophomore in college is being lambasted for celebrating her win.
It’s perfectly clear who gets the benefit of the doubt.
It’s hard to take seriously claims of living in an equitable world when Black girls/women are continuously disrespected in social spaces. In the classic film, Love & Basketball, lead character Monica (Sanaa Lathan) told Quincy (Omar Epps) that she was a “ball player,” after she was thrown out of a game for showing too much passion. She was hyper-aware that if she was a man, that would never have happened.
It’s important to note that it’s never just about race or just about gender. It’s about both and it’s about the intersections.
Remember, displays of passion come with the territory.
Black girls/women should be granted the freedom to display emotions just as much as any other players of the game without being reduced to controlling images and disparaging narratives like the “angry Black woman,” “jezebel,” “hood” “ghetto,” or other stereotypes that have become part of the media industrial complex over time. Black girls/women are complex, dynamic, and worthy of living out our days embodying the full spectrum of humanity.
Angel Reese, like Monica, recognizes the hypocritical nature of the venom directed toward her and succeeds despite it.
And just like Monica, Angel Reese is a ballplayer, and deserving of the respect of any player in the game.
