Taylor Townsend is a name most don’t recognize.
Taylor, an African American tennis player, was once a rising star. In the summer of 2012, she was 16 and the No 1. ranked junior tennis player in the world. At that time, the dominant Black women were Venus and Serena Williams.
But, as she reminded us all in her recent story, Taylor Townsend was there too.
She didn’t have the appearance or background of the traditional tennis star. Taylor was from the South Side of Chicago. She wasn’t white, didn’t hail from a rich family, and didn’t have the traditional tennis body. Townsend wasn’t the traditional tennis kid, yet she was still ranked number 1.
She was a youth who rose to be a tennis star. One who had her dreams snatched away because of her body.
The “Fat” Black Body
At 16, Townsend received a call from the USTA notifying her that she would spend 8-weeks in Florida for “fitness training.” Apparently, some within the tennis world felt Townsend’s body was “too much.” Despite consistently winning in her body, her frame did not conform to the standards set by the tennis world.
She overcame the other characteristics traditionally seen in tennis, but now her body became an issue. No matter how well she played, tennis purists wanted her to genuflect to traditional body norms.
As she grappled with that challenge, blood tests revealed she was anemic. It’s a condition that can often leave people feeling fatigued and weak. Yet her anemia and body never prevented her dominance on the court.
So why don’t more know about Taylor Townsend? The answer is obvious.
America generally hates fat people, particularly fat Black women.
The medical field defines obesity by the Body Mass Index (BMI). But BMI isn’t always applicable to everyday life. This is especially true for athletes and women of color. Individuals in these categories usually have much higher BMI scores because of their builds, but it does not always correlate to their health and wellbeing. The CDC accepts this notion, stating that while having a high BMI (30+) can indicate high body fat, it is not an accurate measure of individual health.
Nevertheless, weight stigma and bias are very real. They are actually more likely to contribute to health risks and serve as a predictor of negative health outcomes than a person’s actual weight (Strings, 2019). In Fearing the Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fat Phobia, Sabrina Strings discusses the ways contemporary fat phobia is rooted in anti-Blackness. This feeling is basked in our culture. In entertainment, sports, and general society, “fat” Black (women’s) bodies are scorned, ridiculed, and denied access to basic resources and opportunities.
The tennis world policed and shamed Taylor Townsend for her body, mirroring society’s treatment of Black women’s bodies.
But Townsend, like Black women of today, resisted.
She continued to play and to win. With her anemic and “fat” Black girl body, Taylor Townsend fought back against stereotypes and officials that would restrict her from playing. She is a manifestation of the notion that “the body is not an apology.”
In her book of the same name, Sonya Renee Taylor proclaims that we are indoctrinated to hate our bodies, judge other’s bodies, and distance ourselves from radical self-love. Citing the work of Sabrina Strings, Taylor reckons with the ways that fatphobia and this culture of thinness are not tied to notions of “health” but rather part and parcel of anti-Blackness and religious dogma.
That is to say American culture continues to use the body (our bodies) as a tool to “craft and legitimate race, sex, and class hierarchies,” (Taylor, 2018, p. 25).
Taylor Townsend found herself at the bottom of this hierarchy within American tennis as a “fat” Black girl.
The USTA stopped her from getting funding. She was an automatic qualifier for the US Open yet they prevented her from getting a wild card spot in the draw through the guise of her not being fit to play.
Yet she did it anyway.
Can’t Stop, Won’t Stop
“They couldn’t actually stop me,” said Townsend.
She paid her way to the Open that year in New York and put her full self on display for the world to see. She made the quarters in singles and won the doubles with her partner, Gabby Williams.
“I mean….. y’all,” wrote Townsend. “Can you even imagine how good that felt??? To lift a freaking U.S. Open trophy on Arthur Ashe, with a mouth full of braces, after they tried to play me like they did??”
For years she had listened to people discuss her body as too big, too heavy. As a child, she didn’t understand what these conversations meant. Now she has the confidence and maturity to reflect on her experiences publicly, bringing her name into the conversations of Black Girl Magic in American tennis where it belongs.
Like Venus and Serena Williams, Townsend entered the sport with her sister Symone. For a while, they were seen as a package deal. Then Symone was injured and Taylor became just Taylor- the younger, too big, too developed Black tennis girl. Yet this enabled Taylor to carve out a presence for herself in the world of tennis.
Taylor Townsend’s story should sound familiar now. It’s the story of a “fat” Black girl in America.
Having her dreams threatened. Fighting against stereotypes, perceptions, and traditionalist power structures. It’s the daily struggle for Black women like Townsend.
Standing up to the USTA didn’t result in her becoming a household name like the Williams sisters. Yet Taylor Townsend’s story is part of the larger story of Black girls and women in what was once the very white world of American tennis.
Today Townsend is a proud mom and not currently on the tennis circuit. But her place in tennis history is secure. Finishing first in the girls’ junior rankings made her the first American since 1982 to be named the ITF Junior World Champion.
Taylor’s body secured the space it deserved, and while her name may not currently be as recognized as Venus, Serena, Sloane or Naomi, her story is no less a part of the chronicle of Black Girl Magic in American tennis.
Taylor’s story reminds us that your body is not an apology.
Your body is your vehicle for moving throughout the world and is yours to love.
So, thank you Taylor for sharing your story with the world. For successfully challenging the norms of American tennis and creating a space for yourself in a place bent on shattering your dreams–like they did your second-place trophy in that parking lot.
You deserve better, you are better, and your story will continue.
References:
Taylor, Sonya Renee. 2018. The Body is Not an Apology: The Power of Radical Self-Love. Oakland: Berrett-Koehler Publishing, Inc.
Springs, Sabrina. 2019. Fearing the Black Body: The Racial Origins of Fat Phobia. New York: NYU Press.
