On Friday night in Provo, Utah, Rachel Richardson took her place on the court for Duke University volleyball against BYU.
It’s something she’s done thousands of times in her volleyball career. Something she’s used to doing under the oftentimes relentless guise of competition and fans.
She’s faced hundreds of competitors in gyms across the country and heard all of the jeers that fans heckle opposing players with.
But on Friday night, one of those jeers ventured into territory that only individuals like Richardson can feel, be targeted with and be impacted by.
It’s a jeer that racist offenders purposely use to demean, harass, insult, humiliate and intimidate.
“Ni**er!”
That inflammatory word incites anger ad frustration and ignites a fury that only Black people can truly experience and understand.
And regardless of the feeling of some, or the conjugation of the last two letters, it is not a term of endearment.
It never was nor ever will be.
On Friday night, that was obvious. Yet apparently, it was only obvious to one person- Rachel Richardson, the Black Duke sophomore volleyball player targeted by the racist fan.
Out of the thousands in attendance at the Smith Fieldhouse at BYU, Robinson stood alone through every single racist taunt.
And no one said anything.
Not the fans, not the officials, not the coaches.
Not a soul did anything to deter the humiliation endured by Richardson.
So lacking support, she chose to ignore and tolerate the pain alone.
“Although the heckling eventually took a mental toll on me, I refused to allow it to stop me from doing what I love to do and what I came to BYU to do,” said Richardson in her statement on Twitter. “I refused to allow those racist bigots to feel any degree of satisfaction from thinking that their comments had ‘gotten to me.’ So I pushed through and finished the game.”
It was a brave moment for the young Richardson.
She chose to push through despite the pain and anger to finish the game, and that’s admirable.
But her decision masked the absence of support and camouflaged the fact that she suffered alone in order to be a teammate.
That’s something she should not have had to do, yet it’s something so many Black people are unfairly coerced to do.
It can happen anywhere.
It can be a racist joke, a seemingly innocent comment or any microaggression you could imagine.
Regardless of the instance, it’s an emotional moment that only Black people can experience and that only Black people, as the victims, must involuntarily endure because they’re the intended victim.
Richardson chose to ignore it in order to perform her job, which is, unfortunately, not uncommon.
And that’s the problem.
Lacking support and defenders makes the fight against racism a lonely and insufferable experience.
For a 19-year-old, surrounded by thousands of fans, mostly white fans at that, that only amplifies the solitude Richardson had to suffer through.
Couldn’t one single fan have stood up to help her? What about her teammates?
According to KSL.com, it wasn’t until the middle of the second set that a police officer was seen near the Duke bench.
By then, the damage had been done. Even though Richardson fought through the experience, she admitted the racist taunting took its toll.
According to her, “my fellow African American teammates and I were targeted and racially heckled throughout the entirety of the match.”
So everyone in that fieldhouse catered to racism for they allowed the behavior to persist for the entire match.
Richardson also mentioned that the officials and BYU coaches were alerted to the situation. Yet by not stopping the game and/or immediately removing the racist, those in charge placated racism’s voracious, ignorant appetite.
Even worse, they enabled it by letting it persist.
“It is not enough to indicate that you are not racist, instead you must demonstrate that you are anti-racist,” wrote Richardson.
And to do that, all someone in Smith Fieldhouse had to do was say something.
It’s not Richardson’s job to do what others had the moral and adult responsibility to do.
And it transpired at a Mormon institution!
On Sunday, BYU athletic director Tom Holmoe addressed the crowd before that night’s volleyball crowd.
“I asked that everyone at all of our games that represent BYU, that you will have the courage to take a stand,” implored Holmoe.
Racism is not an easy subject for everyone to address. That’s especially true for many Black people like Richardson who are in unfamiliar environments where they’re in the minority.
To take a stand against it requires compassion and courage, both of which are infectious.
When one takes a stand, it can spread like wildfire in a dehydrated field. That’s why the officials and/or coaches from BOTH teams should have done something like stop the match or, in Duke’s case, walk off the floor until justice was served.
Unfortunately, that was a neglected option in Utah on Friday night. As a result, one player was harmed in ways that no one but those who look like her can fathom.
Yet all it would have taken was one for one understanding, brave voice to help.
