Earlier this week Caitlin Clark, the number one overall pick of the 2024 WNBA Draft, signed a shoe deal with Nike, making her one of only four current players to have her own signature shoe (Candace Parker is the fourth).
And that sparked a debate over race and marketability.
Clark’s accomplishments and popularity are undeniable. She’s the NCAA’s all-time leading scorer period, and was the biggest draw in college basketball this season.
Yet she wasn’t the first woman to dominate the WNBA hardwood with style.
In 1995, Sheryl Swoopes not only became the first player to sign with the WNBA, but she also became the first woman to receive a signature shoe when she signed with Nike. Since then, in contrast to the more than 40 different men of the NBA who have obtained signature sneakers, only around a dozen of the women of the WNBA have received this honor, including now 3x NCAA national champion, Dawn Staley.
There were others including Cynthia Cooper, Lisa Leslie, Maya Moore (Clark’s childhood role model), Candace Parker and current star A’Ja Wilson, all of whom had made indelible marks on the basketball world and beyond.
Lisa Leslie is a 7x All-Star and 3x All-Star Game MVP. 6x All-Star and 4x WNBA Champion Maya Moore put down her basketball aspirations to focus on racial/social justice.
These talented, game-changing Black women deserved a signature sneaker. Some received that honor including Swoopes (1995-2002), Leslie (1998), Staley (1998-1999), Cooper (1999), Nikki McCray (1999), Chamique Holdsclaw (2002-2002) and Candace Parker (2010-2011). Let’s not forget their names.
Yet before even stepping on to the hardwood for the Indiana Fever, Clark has been given more than those who won championships and All-Star accolades.
And that’s what’s frustrating.
The WNBA is one of the most diverse leagues in US sports.
81.1% of players identify as women of color (70.3% of whom are Black women). In the league office, people of color (POC) make up 41.8% and 69.4% identify as women. Moreover, the league has the best percentages of team “governors,” (owners) in all leagues outside of the WNBA and NBA, with 33.3% being women and 33.3% being people of color.
The WNBA sets the bar high when it comes to “inclusive representation across its organizations in terms of players, coaches, staff, and administration” notes Richard Lapchick. The WNBA is also known for the visibility of LGBTQ+ players and the efforts of players in the fight for equal rights and social justice.
Yet, despite its diversity, the three WNBA players highlighted with signature sneakers are all white women.
Now, I’m not attacking these players because they’re all well deserving of the honor. However, we cannot ignore players who have been, and continue to be, overlooked by marketers, including the aforementioned Las Vegas Aces star, Wilson.
The two-time WNBA champion was accused of hating on Clark after comments she made on X.
Wilson responded, “lol no one is jealous bookie! I have no reason to be lol I truly wish all 143 the best fr! Our league is hard as hell so to thrive and stay in it consistently is.. is huge! So pls stop with this jealousy stuff”
I find it most interesting how quickly people jump to calling women, especially Black women, jealous. It’s a practice that stems from longstanding controlling images of Black women (Collin, 2000).
Women and Black women specifically should have the space to voice their opinions without being demonized by folks who don’t know them, their lives, experiences, or understand the nuances of what being a Black woman in America and beyond is actually like.
Angel Reese was quickly cast as a “villain” for showing the same amount of passion as others. Then, when Reese cried while talking about the harassment, threats, and harm she’d experienced, critics like Emmanuel Acho gave her absolutely no grace.
Now, A’Ja Wilson is being called jealous? For what? Was it the Bible scripture that talked about having patience amidst the success of others?
The post doesn’t reference anyone so to take that and extrapolate jealousy is a reach.
Black women in sports and society broadly are not often given the benefit of the doubt, nor are we treated with the level of grace so quickly doled out to others, particularly white women.
These claims of jealousy are another way Black sportswomen are disrespected, overlooked, diminished, or erased when it comes to their success and recognition. The treatment received by the Williams sisters and Black gymnasts are proof of this.
Yet when trouble arises, their visibility is quickly heightened. Just look at the coverage of Brittney Griner’s situation in Russia. This is another example of misogynoir, the specific form of anti-Black misogyny experienced by Black women in social and digital spaces (Bailey, 2021).
We see the alignment of corporations such as Nike with social movements that combat racism and support marginalized groups. However, such alignment is often hollow. That has led scholars such as Roopali Mukherjee and Sara Banet-Weiser to refer to the phenomenon as “commodity activism.”
This contributes to the question of performative activism as it relates to the marketability of Black sportswomen.
Women’s college basketball continues to set new viewership records and NIL deals are putting equally impressive amounts of money into the pockets of players like Caitlin Clark and Angel Reese. But changes still need to be made, and we need to be honest as to how changes are often made—and it’s not usually when those who are the most harmed or marginalized are facing disparities.
Caitlin Clark’s new WNBA contract sparked outrage about the lack of equal pay. Yet the pay in the WNBA has been inadequate for decades, so where was this same outrage when Brittney Griner was detained in Russia where she had played for years to supplement her income?
Caitlin Clark deserves her moment in the sun, but there are others, such as A’Ja Wilson, who deserve their signature shoes, to be treated with grace, and to stand in the sun.
So marketers, bet on Black women. You might not recognize their “marketability” now, but the world does and so I do.
