Watching Black women win is one of our favorite things. Conversely, it seems to be one of society’s least favorite things. Just look at the past four days.
Only two days after South Carolina coach Dawn Staley called out the media for the way it (and other coaches) described her team’s intense style of play, the media has cast two distinct visions of women basketball players giving it their all to lead their team to the NCAA women’s basketball national championship.
All season long, Louisiana State University’s Angel Reese has received criticism for exhibiting the same passion and showmanship for which University of Iowa player Caitlin Clark has been praised. So, what’s the difference? Angel Reese is an outspoken, hyper-confident Black woman. Black women are not allowed to freely express themselves in ways that white women have historically been praised for, whether it is displaying passion or vulnerability. When Black women are expressive in the form of crying, it is caricatured and broadcast on a loop. When Black women are expressive in the form of boasting, it is denounced as classless and disrespectful.
Why are people threatened by talented, outspoken, confident Black women?
It is misogynoir, plain and simple. Dr. Moya Bailey, a Black feminist scholar, writer, and activist, describes misogynoir as the anti-Black racist misogyny Black women experience. Misogynoir is a modern-day form of Black women’s dehumanization. It shapes the lived experiences of Black women in a variety of settings, particularly in sports media. It is a reminder that Black women are not allowed to exist as their whole selves. Black women do not feel safe enough to express themselves openly, honestly, and expressively. There is an abundance of empirical scholarship that supports the presence of misogynoir in college athletics settings, but even still, fans and consumers will insist sports are an aracial space. How can that be true when after displaying the same behaviors and gestures, Reese is called a “classless piece of shit” and “a fucking idiot”, while Clark is praised and called the “queen of clap backs”?
Again, we ask, why are people threatened by talented, outspoken, confident Black women? Because we are not supposed to be all those things, all at once. Nearly 20 years after Jennifer Bruening wrote about how Black women athletes’ authentic selves are silenced in mainstream media, her piece still speaks to how Black women are represented. When the media and fans call Clark one thing and Reese another, it affirms the narrative that when white women do it, it’s acceptable; but when Black women do it, it’s a problem.
