“Why Are ‘Black Wins’ So Offensive?”
Before Sunday afternoon’s NCAA Women’s Championship game began, I tweeted about my wishes for a fairly officiated game.
Why?
Because I’m a Black woman, who attended a Black high school and I’m used to unfair officiating when our teams would compete against non-Black schools.
All I wanted, like most true sports fans was a good championship game. Yes, I have an affinity for athletes who look like me, but greatness is greatness, and it doesn’t sit with just one color. I was also rooting for one white Kim Mulkey who I adore and who won my sports heart with her grit and passion for the game.
As much as I wanted South Carolina to face LSU in the championship, I’m glad that I didn’t have to watch one of those teams lose to the other in the season’s biggest game. Iowa is a well-constructed team and based on their play in the tournament – they deserved to compete for a championship. The moment they cemented their place in the game, however, I realized the many undertones that would usher these two teams into Sunday’s game.
In case you’ve been under a bracket-less rock - LSU is a Black team. Iowa is a white team. That meant something to many people whether you care to acknowledge it or not.
While LSU star Angel Reese entertained calls from Lil Wayne in the locker room and Flau’jae Johnson hyped LSU fans with her freestyle and Hip-Hop overtones – Iowa readied themselves for play singing tunes from High School Musical. Two different cultures literally met on the hardwood. THIS is not a bad thing. Our differences are supposed to make our country a beautiful melting pot.
The tone of the evening changed when it became obvious that LSU would be crowned champions. Despite an impressive showing of both athleticism and talent, it would be the celebratory gestures and competitive banter that would lead to attempts at vilifying the Black Champions and their Bayou Barbie.
By now, every racist tucked behind a computer screen realizes that the very “you can’t see me” gesture Reese made in the final moments of Sunday’s game came a whole game after Iowa star Caitlin Clark made the exact same gesture.
They’re still unhappy. They still consider Clark competitive and Reese classless.
It’s not my job to convince any hypocrite to switch sides, but this entire argument is still worth unpacking.
Throughout the season, Clark has been a clutch perimeter shooter – oftentimes back peddling down the court with both choice words and demonstrative gestures. These are sports we’re playing – not themed tea parties. She has the right to be passionate. On occasion, her spirited nature escalates to what some may consider “disrespectful.” Again, we’re talking sports – not third pew at the early morning Sunday service.
I actually love the idea of female athletes being a bit mouthy during competitive games.
After all, we are in a world where Kevin Garnett mocked a man mid-game for having alopecia and told another man how his wife tastes.
The same world mind you, where Aaron Rodgers can yell to fans
(in his most arrogant white disposition), “I own you.”
Trash-talk is one of the most prominent features of the sporting world. If a player can dish it, his or her fans had better be prepared to receive it – especially in our very social media driven society.
LSU did not play dirty basketball Sunday night. They were well-coached. Their bench players were ready when called upon. They supported one another. When the game was in-hand, one of their star players pointed to her ring finger and made the “you can’t see me” gesture, while starring down her opponent. Reese waited until the victory was secure before engaging in the aforementioned. How many times have we seen professional athletes celebrate prematurely, inevitably costing their team?
This was the championship game. None of us can say with certainty that we would’ve just fallen to our knees, prayed, given a few hugs and accepted the trophy all while remaining mute.
In that moment, Reese, owner of 34 double doubles in a single season (the most in NCAA history) became animalistic, classless, entitled, ignorant, selfish, unsportsmanlike and trash among other things.
What did she really do wrong?
Was it simply winning? Was it the record she broke? Was it the looming Most Outstanding Player honors? Or was it the long ponytail she adorned, the intense eyelashes, or remixing Clark’s gesture?
There are just so many unwritten rules to being a Black Woman:
Don’t be too loud – but expect everyone to zero in when you speak.
Don’t frown – your facial expressions will give “attitude.”
Don’t be too aggressive – you’re a lady and aggression is for men.
Don’t be ungrateful when you lose – at least we “let” you play.
Don’t be too confident – you’ll come across as cocky.
Don’t get too excited when you win – your celebrations are “classless.”
The truth is, it doesn’t matter if a Black Woman is in a college classroom, a corporate office or on a basketball court – her actions, her gestures, her words will always be received as “too something.”
My first round as a teacher, I had somewhat of a potty mouth. Sit your ass down and Who the hell are you talking to? – that was about it, but sure – I cursed a time or 20 as a 22-year-old teacher. I quickly realized that “ass” in Black was apparently far more offensive than “ass” in White.
By the time I reached my last round of teaching, I was reduced to “shut up.” That’s it. That’s all I would utter in moments of frustration. Still – a simple “shut up” when students (who do not look like me) refused to stop using the N-word got me sent home for one week while I was investigated. Meanwhile, many of my non-Black colleagues dropped f-bombs and worse on the regular.
Words in Black, Expressions in Black, Gestures in Black will perhaps always be subject to more severe critiquing. Existing in Black is just too intimidating I suppose.
Iowa could’ve won the National Championship and Clark could’ve done exactly what Reese did in the final moments. She would’ve been hailed as some “Great White Female Sports Hope” by sports fans of all races, simply because she is not your typical white female basketball player. Let’s be honest, we don’t see her attitude nor her skill six times on a 15-woman roster in collegiate basketball. Both South Carolina and LSU players acknowledged her skill and without calling attention to her taunting-like gestures.
In her post-game interview, Reese uttered words that I pray never resurface as part of a trauma revelation later in her life: “All year, I was critiqued about who I was. I don’t fit the narrative. I don’t fit in the box ya’ll want me in. I’m too hood. I’m too ghetto.”
It is simply amazing how Black people were never invited to the party, yet we’re expected to follow its decorum.
Angel Reese is who she is. She’s charismatic, she’s beautiful, she’s vocal, she’s talented. Sunday night, she became a National Champion. She is among a special group of women who made history for their university.
I’ll be honest, I see a shift in this generation that once concerned me. I’m delighted by the fearlessness. Whereas we said we were “unapologetically us” a decade ago, I believe these young women will die by that sentiment. As I began my tenth paragraph or so of this blog, Reese tweeted “and no I’m NOT keeping it cute.”
I hope she continues to live out loud. I hope she doesn’t study the commentary from people who want her to follow their book definition of “Class.” After all - we can study their version of everything and memorize every line of each book, chapter and even verse – but it won’t matter if they’ve decided to fail us on every test.
South Carolina Coach Dawn Staley tried to tell us something in her post-game interview on Friday. There is a familiar attack on Black Wins. Some people in this country will never be okay with any form of Black Success. When it comes to entertainment and sports, I hope that one day the “powers that be” and even the greater “media” will look more like the talent.
