Boxed In: The LeBrons and Stereotypes as Authenticity

Boxed In: The LeBrons and Stereotypes as Authenticity

By David Leonard

The second installation of The LeBrons – “Stay on the Court” – begins just as the initial episode.  After the proverbial HP advertisement, LeBron James highlights this week’s moral lesson: “There is nothing more important than staying true to who you are.”    For The LeBrons being authentic and true means “to stay on the court.”

The show begins with Athlete LeBron driving kids and his friends to the local recreation center, where they play a little hoop before heading to the pool.  Athlete doesn’t stay with the boys because he has to “run some drills and get mine,” but before leaving imparts some knowledge to them: “remember practices makes perfect.”

Heading his advice, the boys remain on the court, until the sight of a young girl leads them off the court and over to the pool, where she happens to be along with many other scantily clad females, whose bodies become a point of emphasis for the gaze of the show.

The rest of the episode revolves around Kid trying to get the attention of Li, the young women who drew the attention of all three boys.  Kid, however, has the skills and the mentors to help him.  He seeks the advice of both Wise and Biz, who are both depicted as “ladies men.”  They are typical of “contemporary representations of black males” as “sex-crazed” (Jackson 2006, p. 81).  Wise fawns after the younger women at the pool, chasing after them like a lecherous dirty old man as he announces “all these young girls showing skin.”  Countless girls, who are mesmerized by his charisma, coolness, and sexuality, on the other hand chase Biz. 

Unconvinced by Wise’s playbook for winning over the ladies, Kid seeks out the advice Biz.  He encourages him to impress her with his courage by jumping off a high dive.  His plan almost works to perfection only to be pushed aside by a fat hairy man named Yogi giving him “lip to mouth resuscitation.” Resulting in the following exchange between Athlete and Kid

Athlete: How as your first kiss?

Kid: Bluck.  Come on, athlete, you know that doesn’t count.  I made a fool of myself.  I shouldn’t have listened to Biz

Athlete: He wants the best for you.  Maybe you should have listened to Wise.

Kid: Right!  If I’d listen to him, I’d be married with three kids by now

Athlete: Yo, stay on the court

Kid: You’re right; forget about girls.  No good at it.  I’m good at [as he raises up for a set-hot jumper] this

Athlete: Stay on the court, kid

Kid: I got it, athlete; geez

Athlete: Do you?

As he walks away Li walks toward Kid, telling him, “That was a nice shot.  You’re a lot better at basketball than you are at diving.  How about little 1 on 1?

Li, like Kid, is a baller, showing her skills as she blows right by him to the basket.  Importantly, this final exchange reiterates the shows moral lesson about being true to one self and not trying to front.  His decision to “keep it real” and “to stay on the court” is why he ultimately gets the girl.  The message is powerful because the narrative constructs an authentic black identity through athleticism and sports participation. To keep it real is to stay on the court.  His manhood is tied to his game – on the court and with the ladies, which are imagined as mutually reinforcing.  In other words, his success results from his staying true to his identity not as diver but as basketball player.

As with the first episode, The LeBrons once again explores the notion of authenticity and “keeping it real,” erasing the complexity and “messiness” of identity. “I do think there’s something about ‘keeping it real’ that is about almost flirting with disaster in a certain kind of way. It’s about a sort of boldness and a fearlessness that says, ‘I’m gonna,’ in a sense, ‘do me,’” notes John L. Jackson. “I think ‘keeping it real’ is about saying, ‘I’m gonna do what I need to do regardless of how the chips might fall.’ I think the irony, of course, is often ‘keeping it real’ becomes reduced to little more than reproducing the most clichéd stereotypes of blackness, so you’re demanding a sense of individualized autonomy, but you’re performing it in these very stereotypical ways, in ways that are supposed to mesh with these prefabricated categories of black possibility.” Jackson points to the ways in which hegemonic representations of blackness, as evident here, confine identity to athletic performances. “The extent to which Americans use race as a proxy for athlete ability cannot be overstated,” writes Reuben May, in Living through the Hoop. “Many individuals view black athletes as superior to other athletes. . . .  The overrepresentation of blacks in sports . . . reinforces the notion of black males as ‘natural’ athletes” (p. 81).   Worse, by focusing on being “true to self” and “staying on the court” The LeBrons further restricts what constitutes an authentic black identity.  These narratives scripts are significant given the fact that almost seventy percent of black teenagers see sports as their path to success.  The LeBrons embodies a racial project that, according to Thabiti Lewis, defines black masculinity “by athletic or physical prowess” (p. 7).

While focusing on “staying on the court” as it relates to “keeping it real,” the show also teaches viewers endless stereotypes.  Eric, Kid’s friend, is one of the show’s few white characters.  Not surprisingly, he is described as a “boy genius,” with his success on the court attributed to his math and science skills (“the hypotenuse is equal to the distance between the net and the ball”). Eric is able to excel because he stays true to himself – as a stereotypical white nerd, which serves him well as he is able to use principles of geometry and physics to swish a 100+ foot shot (albeit straight up in the air).  Whereas Kid is successful because of his skills and talents as a baller (black identity), Eric is buckets because of his whiteness.  Eric, however, is not the only stereotype.

Li, “an exchange student from China,” who interestingly doesn’t have an accent, has “brains coming of her ears.”  She is a stereotypical exotic temptress in a skimpy bikini, described by one of the boys as a “Shorty” who “got it good.” The shows gaze and its slow-motion affects that look her up to down emphasize her body.  She is a hot “anime character only she is not a cartoon.”  In this regard, she is the embodiment of dominant representations of the hypersexual Asian women.  While commenting about Lucy Liu and the ways in which her character (Ling) on Alley McBeal recapitulated longstanding stereotypes of Asian women, Darrell Y. Hamamoto, an associate professor in Asian-American Studies from University of California Davis, described her as “a neo-Orientalist masturbatory fantasy figure concocted by a white man whose job it is to satisfy the blocked needs of other white men. . .” (1994, p. 74).   Present within popular culture, pornography, the sex industry, mail-order brides, and sex tourism, hegemonic white racial framing reduces Asian women to exotic sexual bodies ready and willing to serve the sexual fantasies and needs of powerful, virile, western (white) men (Macabasco 2005).  Commenting on beauty norms, and the ways in which discourses of diversity and colorblindness erase the consequences and significance of race within our post-civil rights movement, Carrie Smith further elucidates the impact of the hyper visible Asian temptress:

There is also something troubling about the way that people of color are often labeled as “exotic” and categorized separately from Whites – whether it be in lists of the world’s most beautiful people or in pornography. The effect of this segregation is that we now have different norms of beauty that are “racialized.” People can now pick and choose which racialized norm of beauty most tantalizes them and fulfills their desires.

The representational confinement for Li is representative of the very limited/limiting depictions – scripts – within The LeBrons.  “Scripting, like stereotyping, often has deleterious effects.  Imagine the child has internalized assumptions about his or her existence and has begin to formulate a sense of self by retaliating against misguided projections,” writes Ronald Jackson in Scripting the Masculine Body.  “The child is already contemplating achievement possibilities.  Now, consider how empowered that child will be if he or she can come to understand the possibilities are limitless, the range of potential is without boundaries.  Unfortunately with its scripts, and its narrative focus on authentic identities, limits those possibilities” (p. 100).

The LeBrons, especially as a self-defined pedagogical – message – show, offers powerful lessons about identity and authenticity.  In defining blackness through athleticism and athletic/sexual prowess (and Asian femininity through exotic femininity), the show reifies dominant white racial frames.  It boxes in black (and Asian) identity defining success through simply staying on the court. 

David J. Leonard is an associate professor in the Department of Comparative Ethnic Studies at Washington State University at Pullman. His next book (SUNY Press) is on the NBA after the November 2004 brawl during a Pacers-Pistons game at the The Palace of Auburn Hills He has written on sport, video games, film, and social movements, appearing in both popular and academic mediums.

African American Males Transcending Urban Disadvantage

African American Males Transcending Urban Disadvantage

Researchers studying African American boys and men living in urban contexts typically default to deficit models. While few would dispute the need to understand the factors that contribute to urban disadvantage, scholars are increasingly exploring “what works” – the social resources, conditions, practices, and policies that yield more encouraging outcomes for African American males in the city.

As leaders of the Penn Institute for Urban Research Faculty Forum, Penn GSE Professor Shaun Harper and Annenberg Professor John Jackson have brought together leading scholars who are addressing these issues.

Titled African American Men Transcending Urban Disadvantage, the Forum will feature:

David Wall Rice, Morehouse College:
Reimagining Black Male Identities and Expectancy, 4/18

Elijah Anderson, Yale University:
A Discussion of Against the Wall: Poor, Young, Black, and Male, 4/19

Mark Anthony Neal, Duke University:
Beyond Pathological Media Misrepresentation, 4/20

All lectures will be held from 6:00 to 7:30 p.m. in Huntsman Hall (University of Pennsylvania), Room 250, 3730 Walnut Street, Philadelphia.

This forum is free and open to the public.

Scripting King James: The LeBrons and a Discourse of Blackness

Scripting King James:
'The LeBrons' and a Discourse of Blackness
by David J. Leonard

Before the initial episode of LeBron James’ new web show – The LeBrons – begins viewers get a clear glimpse of the show’s purpose: advertizing. However, it isn’t the typical web commercial but one that has a character from the show – Biz LeBron – using the newest HP tablet from to coordinate his fashion style. The efforts to blur the line between commercials and the show itself are revealing. This would of course not be the only instance of product placement. Within this short almost seven minute web show, NIKE, whose commercial The LeBrons is the basis for the show, is visible, as are Dr. Dres’ Beat headphones, interesting given that the show is suppose to be about LeBron’s childhood.

More centrally, the show is selling LeBron, a “brand” that has certainly faced criticism in recent months. By focusing on a young man growing up in Akron, the show not only tries to reestablish his roots in Ohio, but to humanize LeBron by highlighting his background, where he came from and the trials and tribulations he faced growing up before stardom. This is made clear in the show’s catchy opening theme song :

You see the lights, the fame, you see the bling, but you should meet LeBron before he came king. Yeah, this is a story kind like then; my little homie kid growing up in Akron, trying to be an athlete. W e can all witness, hoping he can grow up right, handle business. Gotta show love to his friends and fam, world on his back, like an old man. ‘cause if you think he’s just a ball player, you got it wrong, player. For real. Life isn’t fun and games. Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, LeBron James. It ain’t easy . . . .

Promising viewers a behind-the-scenes narrative of a less than glamorous childhood, The LeBrons works to reconstruct LeBron – through Kid LeBron – as a normal, average, kid working hard to live the American Dream. While imagining LeBron as 4 distinct personalities, the primary vehicle for moral lessons and engagement is Kid LeBron.

Yet, the show isn’t a crass infomercial for LeBron and his corporate sponsors. It is a commercial with a narrative and a lot of moral lessons (isn’t this true of all commercial popular culture). The initial show – “ The Lion ” – in fact begins with James asking viewers (with a nod to Fat Albert and the Cosby Kids), “Ever heard the saying two wrongs don’t make a right.” Providing pedagogical context for both the episode and the show itself, we initially meet Kid LeBron and his neighborhood friend as they ride their bikes, only to be chased by a vicious pit bull owned by Ray Johnson.



Terrorized and fearful of this blood thirty dog, the kids enlist the help from Biz LeBron. Athlete LeBron who is seen shooting baskets cannot be bothered to protect the boys because he is too focused on perfecting his game. Biz, describing the dog as a “gangsta,” a “punk” and a “thug,” leaving me to wonder if this dog represents not a Cleveland Cavaliers ticket holder as one blogger postulated, but a criminal element threatening an otherwise tranquil community. The use of racialized and racializing terms are revealing in this instance. To describe a dog as “thug” and a “gansta” plays on accepted racial language of black criminality. It reflects a process that not only contributes to “black social death” but “is characterized by the seemingly instantaneous social alienation of a delineated category of racially pathologized people” (D. Rodriguez, 2007, p. 134, from “The meaning of ‘disaster’ under the dominance of white life” in What lies beneath: Katrina, race, and the state of the nation ).

To combat the gangsta/thug threat, Biz gets a lion from the pet store to protect Kid and the other innocence within the community. Lion confronts the dog (we see the Lion in what appears to be an interrogation room), protecting the kids from future harm. Yet, Kid expresses discomfort upon learning from Wise LeBron that Lion (a natural predator) will likely kill the dog. He and his friend wonder if this is just as wrong as the dog inflicting violence on the kids in the neighborhood: “two wrongs don’t make a right.” Whether a message about gang violence, war, or a jab at Dan Gilbert (the Cavs owner who infamously publicly denounced LeBron for “taking his talents to South Beach”), it forms the crux of the moral message in the show about turning the other cheek and doing what is right irrespective of the behavior of others. Sandwiched in between advertizing, it encompasses the purported agenda behind the show: “to show youths of all ages how to be a good person.”

More subtlety, The LeBrons, with its deployment of 4 distinct identities – Wise LeBron, Kid LeBron, Biz LeBron, and Athlete LeBron – attempts to challenge the hegemonic process that reduces and flattens black identity. In introducing the show, LeBron notes “It goes back to the four characters who I feel like I am on a day-to-day basis.” It represents LeBron as encompassing multiple identities in an attempt to elucidate the diversity of blackness and challenge what constitutes an authentic black identity. Greg Tate encapsulates the context here:

Perhaps the supreme irony of black American existence is how broadly black people debate the question of cultural identity among themselves while getting branded as a cultural monolith by those who would deny us the complexity and complexion of a community, let alone a nation. If Afro-Americans have never settled for the racist reductions imposed upon them – from chattel slaves to cinematic stereotype to sociological myth – it’s because the black collective conscious not only knew better but also knew more than enough ethnic diversity to subsume these fictions” (Quoted in R.D.G. Kelley, “Looking for the ‘real’ nigga: Social scientists construct the ghetto,” 2005, p. 119)

At a certain level, the representations available stand in dialog with a hegemonic paradigm of racial authenticity, which as argued by John L. Jackson in Real Black: Adventures in Racial Sincerity functions as a “restrictive script” that “limit[s]” an “individual’s social options” (2005, p. 13). At another level, the narrative choice to construct LeBron as four distinct identities constitutes a certain level of fragmentation, whereupon individual identities are compartmentalized and treated in isolation. Imagining Athlete LeBron apart from Biz and Wise LeBron reifies hegemonic stereotypes about blackness by maintaining the binary between intelligence and athleticism. More importantly, it undermines his own humanity by erasing his complexity and assigning individual identities to individual bodies.

Like Nike’s commercial, the 2011 web show is hyper commercial. Like its predecessor, it gives viewers a lot to think about in terms of black identity, commodified and otherwise. “The Nike series shows the LeBrons in a characteristically “black” behavior from signifying stories, or ‘baldheaded lies’ as they’re called, at the dinner table, to macking in the mirror, to dancing to Rick James’s “Superfreak,” including the requisite performance of the robot by the older LeBron brother,” writes Lisa Guerrero from Leonard and King’s Criminalized and Commodified . “It represents LeBron as not only “hardwood maestro”; he’s also funny, entertaining, and can dance well; the unstated implication being, ‘just like all black people.’” Yet, “He remains ‘safe’ because he exists in an immovable racialized space created by the public and the market culture that manages racial panics by locating blackness in confined performative geographies like athletics and entertainment, in other words, in a world of blackness that is understandable because it is the one that exists in the national imagination.”

While challenging hegemonic ideas, LeBron, as child, as moral, as just an average kid, reifies dominant ideas about a pathological underclass as well. He is imagined as the same – like many idealized white suburban kids, he once played in the neighborhood, dreamed of a better life, and worked hard as he in spite of moral challenges to make it. Yet, he is also different from both a white normative ideal, as a fragmented, hyper-black body, and the pathological black other, represented by the pit bull.

The Lebrons thus highlights how new media technologies provide modern black athletes (among others) tools to define their own image and message, partially apart from those “restrictive script” yet bound by the dominant discourse and accepted images. In the coming episodes it will be interesting to see how the show further deals with the complexities and dialects that exist between those restrictive stereotypes and the freedom afforded by this space.

***

David J. Leonard is an associate professor in the Department of Comparative Ethnic Studies at Washington State University at Pullman. His next book (SUNY Press) is on the NBA after the November 2004 brawl during a Pacers-Pistons game at the The Palace of Auburn Hills He has written on sport, video games, film, and social movements, appearing in both popular and academic mediums.