This week, coincidently during the International Olympic Games in Paris, I returned to my undergraduate alma mater, San José State University, to facilitate a workshop on social justice issues.
I still clearly see in my mind’s eye the raised, black-gloved fists of gold medalist Tommie Smith and bronze medalist John Carlos soaring into the air of history during the track and field medal ceremony at the 1968 Mexico City Olympics. As the “Star-Spangled Banner”blared throughout the stadium, Smith and Carlos stood in resolute salute to all the human rights workers and the victims of injustice in the United States and throughout the world.
Related:
They both ascended the winner’s platform shoeless wearing black socks to highlight Black poverty. Representing Black pride, Smith wore a black scarf around his neck, and Carlos unzipped the top of his tracksuit in solidarity with all working-class blue-collar workers in the United States. He wore a strand of beads, which he declared “were for those individuals that were lynched, or killed and that no one said a prayer for, that were hung and tarred. It was for those thrown off the side of the boats in the middle passage.”
Dive deeper every day
Join our newsletter for thought-provoking commentary that goes beyond the surface of LGBTQ+ issues
Tommie Smith and John Carlos’ raised fists at the 1968 Olympics became a powerful symbol of the fight for civil rights, making it one of the most iconic and impactful Olympic photographs. pic.twitter.com/s6DvO6m5y9
I watched the ceremonies from my university apartment with my roommates, while tear tracks of pride streamed down my face, not merely because of my connections with Smith and Carlos as undergraduate students at the same institution — for they were my classmates at San José State University — but because they clearly demonstrated not only the political potential, but more importantly, the very political nature of sport to forever transform minds, hearts, and souls for the betterment of society.
Not everyone, though, even at my university, supported their actions, stating that the purpose of sport is for entertainment only, and not to advance a political policy or agenda. Avery Brundage, International Olympic Committee president, scolded the athletes and the U.S. Olympic Committee for bringing domestic politics into “the apolitical, international forum [of] the Olympic Games.”
Soon following Smith and Carlos’ actions, the U.S. Olympic Committee suspended them from the team and barred them from the Olympic Village. My university, however, gave them a heroes’ standing ovation when they returned to campus, and we later honored the two athletes with a 22-foot high statue in 2005.
Anyone who asserts the “apolitical” nature of sport, ask President Jimmy Carter why he chose to have the U.S. boycott the 1980 Moscow Summer Olympics following the Soviet Union’s invasion of Afghanistan.
Ask historians whether Jesse Owens’ performance by winning four gold medals in track and field at the 1936 Olympics in Berlin, Germany seriously called into question Nazi “racial” political philosophy on the supremacy of the so-called “Aryan race.”
88 years ago today, Jesse Owens won his first Olympics gold medal, he humiliated Hitler at the Berlin Olympics by winning 4 Olympic Gold Medals.
Hitler had hosted the Olympics, intending to be a showcase of Aryan supremacy.
— AFRICAN & BLACK HISTORY (@AfricanArchives) August 3, 2024
Ask the relatives of Jackie Robinson whether his very existence as the first black professional baseball player had political implications within the sport as well as the effect of opening and expanding opportunities for people of color in the larger society.
Ask boxer Muhammad Ali whether his opposition to the Vietnam War, a war that he would not enter, and the courage it took in refusing to comply with the military draft was political – it negatively affected his career when he was taken to jail and the sport rescinded his heavyweight national championship.
Ask Martina Navratilova as well of her experiences as an out lesbian on the professional tennis circuit.
Ask Kareem Abdul Jabbar if his statements calling out systemic antisemitism were political in nature.
Ask NBA player Steph Curry about when he spoke out following the murder of George Floyd, that he was fed up with police violence against African Americans and the institutional racism and its political underpinnings that have been foundational since the inception of the United States.
Women athletes and their supporters are challenging unequal and unjust salaries compared to the staggering wealth opportunity open to their male counterparts.
Ask Bubba Wallace, Nascar’s only black driver in the top ranks, whether he took a political action to move the organization — forcefully and courageously — to officially ban the showing of the Confederate flag in all its forms from future events.
Ask every person of all races on sports teams who refuse to attend a White House reception under Donald Trump following a national championship about whether their decision was political.
Perhaps, as time goes by, as more pioneers break racial, sexual, gender, religious, ethnic, language, and other barriers, athletes’ very being may one day have diminished political implications. But have no doubt, sport has always been and will forever have political consequences and possibilities.
By standing up, speaking out, taking a knee, whether players face any consequences, the question remains over whether professional and amateur athletes should relinquish their First Amendment right of free speech once they don their team jerseys and enter the field, and even when they are on their own time off the field of play.
Tim Tebow, when praying and performing the sign of the cross on his chest on the football field and talking of his love for Jesus Christ during recorded interviews, not only engaged in religious acts, but also promoted Christian cultural hegemony within an allegedly religiously diverse nation — as such, he advanced his political agenda.
Significant social change progresses when members of socially dominant groups join the battle for justice.
Let us not forget the political courage it took for Peter Norman, the white athlete upon the second-place platform along with Tommie Smith and John Carlos in the 1968 Mexico City Olympics, who not only gave his own pair of black gloves to Smith & Carlos in their famous black-gloved salute, but he spoke out in support of their actions in the aftermath. For this, he faced social and professional ostracization once he returned to his native Australia.
The National Football League finally apologized for not supporting the movement among its players, led by Colin Kaepernick, taking a knee protesting police violence against people of color.
In case anyone’s forgotten, the murder of Tyre Nichols by Memphis police officers is why Colin Kaepernick took a knee. pic.twitter.com/ns8OTxVtVb
In our modern era, an ever-increasing number of individual athletes — but also, men’s and women’s sports team and entire leagues — are taking a symbolic knee by boycotting the fields, courts, ice, diamonds, TV anchor desks, and administrative offices to lend their collective voices in support of the movement for #BlackLivesMatter and an end of two unequal systems of justice: one for white people and the other for black and brown people.
Recently, they have entered the arena to reverse the spate of voting rights (whites) laws to equitable voting rights guarantees. Major League Baseball in partnership with the Players’ Alliance, for example, pulled their previously scheduled July 13, 2021 All-Star Game from Atlanta in response to the Georgia State Legislature’s passage and Governor Brian Kemp’s signing of draconian voter restriction laws clearly targeted to inhibit the franchising of communities of color.
Opponents to the law in Georgia and others proposed in states throughout the country refer to them as “Jim Crow 2.0,” signifying a return to the prolonged period of U.S. history which included legal sanctions on the voting rights of people of color, which happened not so very long ago.
This action by Major League Baseball to relocate the All-Star Game follows other courageous decisions in the world of sports to advance the cause of progressive social change.
The National Basketball Association relocated its All-Star Game in 2017 from Charlotte, North Carolina in reaction of that state’s law, HB2, which required people to use only restrooms that correspond with the gender assigned to them at birth, thereby prohibiting transgender people from accessing safe restrooms.
The owners of teams in the National Football league voted in 1991 to withdraw the 1993 Super Bowl Game from Phoenix following Arizona voters’ failure to create Martin Luther King Jr. Day as a paid legal holiday.
L.A. Clipper’s Coach Doc Rivers’ words echoed throughout the NBA and world in 2020 after yet another violent police murder of a Black man when he tearfully mourned at a press conference, going off-script and saying, “It’s amazing why we keep loving this country, and this country does not love us back.”
Speaking truth to power and challenging injustice, while granting individuals the ability to maintain their personal integrity, also often comes with risks: social, professional, and physical.
