The Passion of Tiger Woods and Contemporary Black Poetry February 27th 'Left of Black'

The Passion of Tiger Woods and Contemporary Black Poetry February 27^thLeft of Black

Host and Duke University Professor Mark Anthony Neal is joined in-studio by Professor Orin Starn and via Skype© by Professor Thabiti Lewis.  Authors of The Passion of Tiger Woods: An Anthropologist Reports on Golf, Race, and Celebrity Scandal (Duke University Press) and Ballers of the New School: Essays on Racism and Sports in America (Third World Press),  respectively, Starn and Lewis analyze how Tiger Woods has differed from many other Black male athletes in terms of how he is un-racialized and re-racialized at various moments.  Later the scholars discuss the meaning of Woods’ identification as Cablinasian.  

Later, Neal is joined also in-studio by poet Darrell Stover who currently a program director at the North Carolina Humanities Council, a position her formerly held at the St. Joseph’s Historic Foundation| Hayti Heritage Center.  Author of  the new collection of poetry Somewhere Deep Down When, Stover considers how history has shaped the meaning of being a poet, shares his poetic influences, and discusses the importance of reaching out to the larger  community through poetry.  Stover and Neal talk about Amiri Baraka’s immersion in multiple art forms, and discuss the legacy of Gil Scott Heron.

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Left of Black airs at 1:30 p.m. (EST) on Mondays on the Ustream channel: http://www.ustream.tv/channel/left-of-black. Viewers are invited to participate in a Twitter conversation with Neal and featured guests while the show airs using hash tags #LeftofBlack or #dukelive. 

Left of Blackis recorded and produced at the John Hope Franklin Center of International and Interdisciplinary Studies at Duke University.

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Follow Left of Black on Twitter: @LeftofBlack

Follow Mark Anthony Neal on Twitter: @NewBlackMan

Follow Thabiti Lewis on Twitter: @ThabitiBaller

Follow Darrell Stover on Twitter: @Scipoet1000

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Thabiti Lewis: Ballers of the New School [video]

from Projection HBW

Professor Thabiti Lewis came to the University of Kansas on October 24 and discussed his book Ballers of the New School. In his lecture he urged the audience to consider the role of race in the sweaty as well as the sweat-free zones of sport. He argues that American sport culture performs and propagates rituals, symbols and expressions of fear and difference that sustain racism and notions of racial supremacy. He explains the continuation of these symbols and notions blocks bridges to racial progress.

Video Design Credit: Brandon Hill--University Kansas Student of Film and Media Studies

LeBron James and the Redemptive Path to Nowhere

LeBron James and the Redemptive Path to Nowhere

by David Leonard and Bruce Lee Hazelwood | special to NewBlackMan

As Game 4 of the 2011 NBA Finals came to a close on another last second shot, Dwyane Wade and Dirk Nowitzki were praised for carrying their respective teams. The celebration of Nowitzki has been especially robust given his reported illness, a fact that has been used to celebrate his performance as heroic, as a sign of his toughness, and as evidence of his talents as a leader.

LeBron James, on the other hand, endured another bout of criticism from fans, media, and players alike. After Game 3, where LeBron had a stat line that included 17 points, 9 assists and 3 rebounds, Greg Doyle asked LeBron about his “shrinking” in the 4th quarter. Notwithstanding LeBron’s dismissal of the question,  Doyel maintained this line of criticism in his column the following day, writing:

When someone makes a movie of the fourth quarter, they can cast Rick Moranis as LeBron James and call it Honey, I Shrunk the Superstar.

That's what I'll remember about James from Game 3. His shrinkage, and how it continued a series of shrinkages. I asked him about that after Game 3. I asked him, pretty much word-for-word, how come he hasn't been playing like a superstar in the fourth quarter? What's going on with that? James played the defensive-stopper card. That's why he's out there, you know. For his defense. He's not a latter-day Michael Jordan. He's a latter-day Dudley Bradley.

Doyel proceeds to criticize James for “complaining” to referees, whining, and otherwise having a “bitter-beer face” when he doesn’t get his way on the court, only to conclude his article by highlighting an instance where James didn’t get a foul call not because there was a foul but because he isn’t a superstar: “Maybe the officials are onto something. Maybe LeBron James isn't a superstar. If the 2011 NBA Finals were the only games I had seen him play, that would be my conclusion. Doyel, especially after Game 4, is not alone in his criticism. Jordan Shultz, in “ LeBron James Shows True Colors In Game 4 Disappearance ” identifies his Game 4 struggles are not an aberration but evidence of his ineptitude and shortcomings as a player: “Wade is in essence, everything James is not. He has the will, the fire and the assassin's nature that LeBron lacks.”

This criticism is nothing new and demonstrates how LeBron James cannot win. In wins (Game 3) and losses (Game 4), he has been reduced to a failure, a punching bag for America’s sports punditry. Ever since the ill-fated “Decision,” praise for James seems to shrink every day while criticism of his game continues to overshadow his contributions to his team. In a season where perception is James is “on the road to redemption,” questions need to be asked. How can redemption be gained if he can do no right? Who is LeBron James really redeeming? And in the end, is LeBron James really trying for redemption?

Since joining the Heat, James has faced criticism at both ends of the spectrum: go for 35-12-10 and he’s hogging the ball, but go 15-9-8 and he isn’t doing enough. With Wade and Chris Bosh on the team, he either doesn’t involve the other two superstars enough or defers to them too much. He is the walking embodiment of the longstanding criticism that has always plagued black athletes living amid American racism: too selfish or unable to lead. This highlights the power of the white racial frame, one that renders black bodies as undesirable and suspect, with the impossibility of redemption. In that James will face criticism irrespective of his on-the-court performance – if he shoots the last shot and misses, he lacks the “killer instinct”/ he is selfish and should have passed the ball to Wade (this was a criticism after Game 2 where James was questioned for not deferring to Wade who had it going); if he passes the ball, he is depicted as mentally weak, scared, and otherwise unable to lead.

What is underlying much of this criticism is a false comparison to a reimagined Jordan. The nostalgia for Jordan as post-racial, as team player, as unselfish, and as God-like illustrate the impossibility of James meeting these expectations. Whereas Jordan in retirement has been reconstituted as a leader, as a fundamentally perfect player who was driven by team success and not individual accomplishment, James, as an embodiment of  Thabiti Lewis’ “baller of new school,” has no possibility of becoming the next Michael Jordan. Given the ways in which black players are scolded and demonized for ego, James, despite his unselfishness, despite his willingness to defer to Wade, pass to Chris Bosh, and set-up Mario Chalmers is unable to transcend the confined meaning of blackness. In actuality, in 2011, Michael Jordan likely couldn’t be the next Michael Jordan.

More than his “struggles” on the court, James cannot win because he cannot be Michael Jordan. And he cannot be Michael Jordan because LeBron does not fulfill a post-racial fantasy. LeBron does not embody what David Falk celebrated in Michael Jordan: “When players of color become stars they are no longer perceived as being of color. The color sort of vanishes. I don’t think people look at Michael Jordan anymore and say he’s a black superstar. They say he’s a superstar. They totally accepted him into the mainstream. Before he got there he might have been African American, but once he arrived, he had such a high level of acceptance that I think that description goes away.”

His tattoos, his decision to hire his longstanding friends to guide his career, “The Decision,”  his insertion of race into the post-Cavs discourse, his acceptance of the anti-hero role, his “What should I do?” Commercial for Nike, and even his response to Greg Doyel where he told him to “watch the film again” so he could “ask me a better question tomorrow” all contribute to a path not paved by Jordan toward racial redemption but one more travelled by many black athletes: one of derision, contempt, criticism, and scrutiny. “The irony of the connection between Willie Horton, O.J. Simpson, and Tookie Williams, and Michael Jordan, LeBron James, Allen Iverson, and Latrell Sprewell, along with most of the black NBA superstars of today is that, as easily as the first three, like so many countless criminalized black male bodies in the United States are denied social and moral redemption because of their race, their presumed inherent transgression, and the need of the American public to reify much of its racist (il)logic,” writes Lisa Guerrero from Leonard and King’s  Criminalized and Commodified. While LeBron as member of the Cavs, as a potential savior (of the NBA; of the Jordan legacy; of Cleveland) had the potential to “redeem us, to maintain our sense of ourselves as a nation that is righteous, equal, and free, and to allow us to continue dreaming the American Dream,” that potential is gone. The narrative of his “failure” redeems us; the hegemonic claims about the righteousness of others and the steps LeBron must take to be saved is a celebration of the system not him.

In terms of the second question – is this his “road to redemption”—we must be clear. LeBron James appears to be disinterested in redeeming himself – a central perquisite in the history of race in America. The parameters of his redemption have been set not by James but by the media and fans. With this in mind, it then becomes impossible for James to gain redemption in the public eye because he will never buy into the parameters set before him. LeBron James is in the continuous struggle of playing by his rules on a court/in a society where everyone but him is setting the rules of the game. Worse, yet, the rules change with each game. “If, as today’s writers lament, LeBron doesn’t want to take over the game, that should be praised, not derided,” writes  Dave Zirin . “Basketball at its best is a beautiful game: a team game. As long as LeBron keeps playing the game as it comes, he will be a champion. He doesn’t have to settle for being the next Jordan.” Irrespective of whether he takes over a game or not, James will be criticized because he can’t be “like Mike” – on the court, maybe, but in the national imagination, never!

For LeBron James, there is no need for redemption. In his eyes, he did what he wanted to do and there is no regret. He wanted to play with his friends and he ended up signing with a team allowing him to do this. While many black athletes strive to reach the summit of Jordan-like acceptance, they fail to see even what Jordan failed to see: no matter what they do or how much money or how many endorsement deals they sign or how they make their respective leagues profitable with immense cultural capital, they are still black bodies in America. James made clear last year that there is little he can do to redeem himself as Michael Jordan. In his “Rise” Nike Commercial, he asks,

What should I do?

Should I tell you I’m a championship chaser?

I did it for the money, rings?

Maybe I should just disappear

As evident in LeBron’s inability to outrun the leadership and selfish trope that defines America’s sports racial history and thus his inability to find solace on a path to redemption, there is nothing LeBron can do. His experiences demonstrate that so long as (white) fans and (white) commentators resent his talent, his choices, his attitude, his swagger, his motivations, his blackness, he is dammed. Not only cannot he not be Michael Jordan or as good as Michael Jordan (sorry Scottie Pippen) in the national imagination but he will continue to face a barrage of criticism for his every move. The black body is continuously subjected to mainstream notions of what it means to be black in a white society all while managing how and working to control those same bodies. Championships or not; 45 points or 8; 25 assists or 2, LeBron James will forever be remembered with the sentence, “Yeah, LeBron could ball, but…”

Post-script 

Despite securing a triple double in game 5, the criticisms directed at LeBron continue to mount. Described as hallow, disinterested, quiet, and otherwise ineffective, securing the 29th triple double in NBA final history did little to silence those critics who continued to focus on his leadership and play in “clutch minutes.” Treating the 4th quarter like a game of “Hot Shot,” where the points are worth double, these critics ignores LeBron’s success throughout the game in an effort to undercut his contributions all while advancing a narrative about his lack of leadership, mental toughness, and “the clutch gene.” Makes one wonder what the critics would say if he did not score, rebound or get his teammates for the first 42 minutes of the game only to amass 17-10-10 in the final 6 minutes. 

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David J. Leonard is Associate Professor of Comparative Ethnic Studies at Washington State University, Pullman. He has written on sport, video games, film, and social movements, appearing in both popular and academic mediums. His work explores the political economy of popular culture, examining the interplay between racism, state violence, and popular representations through contextual, textual, and subtextual analysis. He is the author of Screens Fade to Black: Contemporary African American Cinema and the forthcoming After Artest: Race and the War on Hoop (SUNY Press).

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.

Ebru TV's Footnote: Thabiti Lewis, Ballers of the New School

from Ebru TV

On this episode of Footnote, we discuss the book Ballers of the New School – Race and Sports in America. Author Dr. Thabiti Lewis uses American sports culture to challenge and explore notions of race in America.

'Left of Black': Episode #21 featuring Carrie Mae Weems and Thabiti Lewis

Left of Black #21
w/Carrie Mae Weems and Thabiti Lewis
February 7, 2011

In episode # 21 of the weekly webcast Left of Black, host Mark Anthony Neal welcomes artist “extraordinaire” Carrie Mae Weems to the Left of Black studio in the John Hope Franklin Center at Duke University. Later he is joined by Professor Thabiti Lewis (via Skype), author of the new book Ballers of the New School: Race and Sports in America (Third World Press).

→Carrie Mae Weems is an award winning photographer and artist. Her photographs, films, and videos have been displayed in over 50 exhibitions in the United States and abroad and focus on serious issues that face African Americans today, such as racism, gender relations, politics, and personal identity. She is perhaps most well known for her “The Kitchen Table Series” (1990) and recently initiated a public art campaign to address gun violence in Black and Brown communities in Syracuse, New York.

→Thabiti Lewis Associate Professor of English at Washington State University Vancouver. He has published widely in the areas of African American literature, African American Studies, and sport and race. His areas of teaching are 20th century American literature, African American literature, Race and Cultural Studies, and Popular Culture. Dr. Lewis has worked as a journalist, talk radio host, and as an editor. His latest book is Ballers of the New School: Race and Sports in America.

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Left of Black is a weekly Webcast hosted by Mark Anthony Neal and produced in collaboration with the John Hope Franklin Center at Duke University.

Fresh Outlook--Sports and Race w/ Thabiti Lewis

4/04 Sports and Race
Air Date: January 30, Sunday, 2011 - 4:30 PM

America reveres its sports. But do the games we play – and watch so enthusiastically – have an ugly undercurrent? On this episode we tackle the issues around race and sports. Are athletes of color held to a different standard by the media? There are many who say racism has not only been a longtime problem in sports, but that its incidence is increasing.

Studio Guests:

Dr. David Wiggins is a Professor and the Director of the School of Recreation, Health, and Tourism at George Mason University and the author of a number of books on racial issues in sports.

Dr. Thabiti Lewis is an Associate Professor at the Washington State University Vancouver's English Department and author of Ballers of the New School: Race, Sport and American Culture.

Lebron James Descends From Hero to Bad Cowboy

Lebron James Descends From Hero to Bad Cowboy
by Thabiti Lewis

Last week, Lebron James responded to a number of racist Twitter messages he received. He reluctantly conceded that race is perhaps the reason many are rooting against him. In doing so, after years of trying to be politically correct and race neutral Lebron revealed for the second time in three weeks the bad hand he has been dealt in the way of public perception and race.

A few sports writers caution James that pulling the race card may hurt his public image. But those who worry about the race card fail to realize that James’ situation is akin to a game of Old Maid. And just like in Old Maid after all the pairs have been matched, the person left holding the ‘old maid’ card loses. In this case, James is stuck holding the race card.

Throughout his career James has tried to appease everyone, but once he opted to appeal to himself, questions about him being a bad person suddenly emerged. His popularity today has even allegedly dropped below that of the recently maligned Tiger Woods. In an ESPN/Seton Hall Sports poll of 900 people to gauge James’s popularity, only 32 percent of white fans favor him compared to 64 percent of black fans (Tiger Woods was favored by 35 percent of white fans).

The urge to recast James as the bad guy largely stems from his recent willingness to acknowledge the racial dynamics surrounding his image—from the way he chose to leave the Cavaliers to his disclosure of racist messages sent to him on Twitter. In the aftermath, he and his other star Miami Heat teammates—Wade and Bosh—have been has unfairly deemed by some experts “bad cowboys” with a “bunker mentality.”

Can this be real? Does releasing the public racist messages sent to him on Twitter really transform Lebron James into a “bad cowboy?” Now, angered, and perhaps fatigued, he plays the hand that has been dealt to him.

On Friday ESPN SportsCenter finished its three part series on the public perceptions of Lebron James. Allow me to save us all time to understand the dynamics driving the perceptions.

In my new book Ballers of the New School I attempt to explain the impetus behind perils and perceptions of modern athletes in America. To understand the recent negative public perception of James, one must concede that there are numerous images of Black male identity that dominate the American psyche. These images range from egocentric and barbaric to excessively humble (the latter being most appealing to mainstream culture). The question of James lagging in popularity results from his decision to abandon the excessively humble persona.

Although largely apolitical, modern Black athletes are trouble for those who want to put them in a box because they do not “know their place.” By contrast, this new generation of athletes, whom I call Ballers of the New School (BNS), use performance on and beyond the playing field to claim space in the American landscape, boldly asserting their own modern voice, style, rules, and values. BNS are complex because sometimes they transform and other times they reify the socially produced distortions of black people.

Athletes of the last three decades are also problematic because they demand as much respect and money as they can claim, without apology or overstated humility. Perhaps Latrell Sprewell’s words in his famous AND 1 commercial best epitomize the complexity of sports culture, race, and BNS when he said: “You say I’m an American nightmare; I say I’m the American Dream.”

James’s recent actions officially earned him disfavor. He joins the legion of athletes that refuse to play the game of “appease and be humble.” Those who refuse to accept this role are depicted as angry, full of rage, uppity, ungrateful for their opportunities, or “bad cowboys.” BNS like James who do not play by the rules of the racial card shuffle are vilified.

James’s lagging public acceptance stems from having committed a serious infraction: he broke the racial covenant or what Charles Mills calls in his book of the same name, the racial contract. Mills argues that this contract has its own rules and ways of knowing the world—according to an assumed racial hierarchy. By breaking the contract and revealing a less than post-racial reality, James instantly earns a tag of “bad cowboy.”

Yet what is germane to James and this generation of ballers is that their culture is hip-hop. The aesthetics and principles encourage creativity and free self-expression, entrepreneurship, underground networks, the unconventional, and carving one’s own space in a republic unwilling to consistently offer equity and opportunity to non-whites.

The BNS who reach hero status yet reject the racial contract find themselves facing media campaigns that spin them as bad people. The responses to this refusal are clear indicators of the racial state of our nation.

So what really is James’s crime that such extensive vitriol and anger is being cast in his direction?

As a BNS James’s crime is his rejection of the “model minority” role in America. Playing this role means that he should be submissive, apologetic in speech, and willing to be put through the paces by white Americans to prove himself worthy. James pulled as many of these cards as his hand could hold before figuring out that more than anyone else, he alone determines his worth.

Originally published at NewsOne.com

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Thabiti Lewis teaches English at Washington State University Vancouver and is the author of Ballers of the New School: Race and Sports in America (Third World Press).

Did Albert Haynesworth Really Mean Slave?

Did Albert Haynesworth Really Mean Slave?
by Thabiti Lewis

Recently a media feeding frenzy ensued when Washington Redskins defensive tackle Albert Haynesworth uttered the statement, “Just because somebody pays you money don’t mean they’ll make you do whatever they want…I’m not for sale. Yeah, I signed the contract and got paid a lot of money [$21 million this year], but that don’t mean I’m for sale or a slave or whatever.”

Part of the shock, or better yet outrage, seemed to be focused on the very thought that a black man making so much money would compare playing in a defensive scheme he despises to the master-slave relationship at the heart of the American Black-white divide. According to Haynesworth his bone of contention was part of his contract negotiations with the Redskins.

Of course he is not the first contemporary athlete to utter the slave comparison. Former NBA great Larry Johnson once referred to some of his New York Knicks teammates as “rebel slaves” which generated similar outrage. William Rhoden’s wonderful book Forty Million Dollar Slaves takes on the historic plantation mentality of American sport culture and contemporary athletes. And my own book, Ballers of The New School, examines the mentality of contemporary post-civil rights, hip-hop generation athletes, bold enough to make such utterances.

To be fair to Haynesworth who is black, the history and legacy of the enslavement of African persons in the New World, and testifying against it or vestiges of it, will forever be part of the psyche of black Americans. Enslavement in America was harsh, bitter, and cruel as recounted in endless slave narratives. These narratives testified against captors and bore witness to the desire of every black person to be free. Haynesworth’s recent tirade or testimony (depending on your point of view) underscores the feelings that most contemporary athletes are either unwilling to or incapable of articulating.

While Haynesworth certainly does not endure the same type of cruel bondage, his rebellion is against those in power of a plantation or system (dominated primarily by white men) that controls black men—even if they pay them. It is a system capable of making them “do whatever they want” whenever they want. Haynesworth, like the slave narratives, which demonstrated the problematic value of plantation culture, is perhaps addressing the problematic white-black labor conditions in contemporary sports culture that is driven by a modicum of the past master-slave ideology.

Rhoden says in his book “sports might be a plantation of sorts.” Haynesworth seems to concur. And, no amount of money will hush black folk with knowledge of this legacy, because America’s foundation is buried in the fields of slave plantations.

Ironically, the foundation of contemporary high profile sports like football and basketball are the descendants of former slaves. Even the structure of contemporary sports teams traces the power dynamics of plantations. Nearly all the people who exercise power over players are white— the owners, head coaches, commissioners, etc.

The outrage directed at Haynesworth for making his “slave” comment confirms the unspoken notion that because he is Black, he is treated as a descendants of former slaves. Critics say Haynesworth should be grateful—more grateful than his white peers—for the money he makes.

But if Haynesworth is getting paid so much and the dynamics are so different, why make the comparison?

Haynesworth is bothered that despite his immense wealth he does not control the terms of his liberation—the problem slaves faced without the benefit of wealth. Further, in the contemporary sports world not only are white men (like his coach and team owner) in power, but they have defined the terms of the liberation for black men. Haynesworth’s analogy is perhaps his way of saying that while his services may be for sale, his pride and self-respect are not. Despite the money, prestige, and lifestyle, he is not blind to the master-slave power dynamic in contemporary sport culture.

What underscores the Haynesworth saga is how it compares to that of Minnesota Vikings’ Brett Favre who is white. Haynesworth dislikes the Redskins 3-4 defensive scheme, preferring to play tackle instead of nose guard. He also skipped the Redskins voluntary off-season conditioning program. The media maligned him for this, suggesting he was lazy. Brett Favre routinely skips training camp until the last two weeks of camp. He also chose to play for the Vikings because they use an offense he likes.

Yet, the media response to his antics is the antithesis of the response to Haynesworth. Haynesworth is called “ridiculous,” “an idiot” and worse for making his comments. Meanwhile Favre is worshipped for holding teams hostage (deciding if he will play or retire) each year until two weeks before the season begins. In fact, he was given a raise this season. (He now makes $16 million!)

Race is an undeniable variable in the different treatment of these men. The black one is told he should be grateful, shut up and do what he is told. The other is afforded the latitude to waffle about playing, and is offered a raise for doing so.

My point here is not that Haynesworth is literally a slave, but that because he’s Black he’s treated like one. Nor is it that whites are literally masters. The point is that Haynesworth seems to be aware the racial dynamics at play and rejects them. Our national understanding of race could make leaps and bounds, if the public considered these dynamics alongside Haynesworth words, “I’m not for sale or a slave or whatever.”

Originally Published by NewsOne.com

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Thabiti Lewis is the author of Ballers of the New School: Race and Sports in America (Third World Press, 2010). He teaches English and American Studies at Washington State University Vancouver.