Written by The nature of sports tends to obscure athletes’ human qualities. We often view them as a source of entertainment, as a distraction from the concerns of the real world. When they step out of their roles as performers, it’s taboo.
Athletes using their voices to advocate a cause — a freedom we grant to any individual — invite especially severe backlash. Threats directed at NFL and NBA players are well documented. So are cable news commentators’ diatribes. For many, the million-dollar contracts and endorsement deals offset the seriousness of the abuse. After all, what would those multimillionaire superstars have to complain about? Isn’t their success a sign of how far we’ve come in ensuring equality?
That argument could be sufficient for a lot of people. But amateur athletes are not exempt from abuse, either.
At the NCAA Men’s Basketball Tournament, Ohio State’s E.J. Liddell and Illinois’s Kofi Cockburn received death threats on social media after their top-seeded teams were eliminated from contention. “I have feelings too,” Liddell pleaded online. Cockburn, who is from Jamaica, shared a message from a fan calling him a “monkey” and telling him to “go back home.” Liddell is 20. Cockburn is 21.
A few weeks ago, an announcer at an Oklahoma high school girls’ basketball game spewed racial slurs and curse words at the Norman High School team. The girls took a knee for the national anthem to protest racial inequality. At a girls’ basketball game In Nebraska, a group of boys in the stands yelled the N-word at a visiting team of mostly Black players. Last year, also in Nebraska, fans told Latino players to “go back to where [they] came from” and chanted “build that wall.” These athletes are teenagers, but even that is not enough to safeguard them from abuse.
When fans claim they are boycotting pro sports because it has become too “political,” the scenes at the NCAA tournament and high schools in Oklahoma and Nebraska explain just why those athletes speak out. It’s a perfect illustration of the motivation behind social justice movements in sports. Until Black and Latino teenagers can play basketball without being on the receiving end of racial epithets, athletes like LeBron James, Colin Kaepernick, and Natasha Cloud should be welcome to step out of their roles. Until a star center from Jamaica can lose a game without being compared to an animal, athletes will continue to “get political.”
The truth is, sports are inherently political. Competition, whether in a school gym or a pro stadium, serves as a stage for self-expression. Icons like Jackie Robinson, Jesse Owens, and Billie Jean King prove it. On a large scale, individuals with huge followings have a solid platform to speak out on issues that are important to them. On a small scale, it builds confidence and independence. It develops the skills needed for active citizenship. Removing that outlet and confining athletes to dribbling, throwing, and catching is degrading. Pigeonholing sports figures into a single category of “entertainer” deprives them of the privileges we guarantee to all — freedom of protest, speech, and expression. Expecting a certain standard of decorum is understandable, but athletes cannot be dehumanized to the point of verbal abuse and death threats.
It’s a slippery slope from behavior expectations to dehumanization. Coaches and leaders need to ensure that their players feel well-represented and heard. Denying leeway in self-expression isn’t retaining the purity of sport; it’s damaging athletes’ well-being and weakening human qualities.
The response of the Norman High School coaches and administration is an excellent example. The district superintendent reaffirmed his support for the girls’ protest and barred that broadcasting company from covering future games. The team’s assistant coach appeared on local news to publicly praise his “strong-minded” players. Even the town’s mayor spoke out, calling the players’ courage “inspiring.”
The girls went on to win their second consecutive Oklahoma state championship, capping a perfect 19-0 season.