I am a big fan of Brené Brown, and when I saw her video years ago on vulnerability, I took something with me and have carried it every day since. Dr. Brown, in her now-famous Ted Talk, tells us to "lean into the discomfort of the work" and that only by accepting that growth is oftentimes uncomfortable, difficult, and messy can we successfully evolve as stronger and better leaders.
As a black woman working in college athletics, I am uncomfortable every day. Throughout my career, I have applied the advice that Brené gave me seven years ago to my everyday life and particularly my time working. This is not to say that I have not enjoyed my experiences in college athletics. As a former student-athlete, nothing has made me more proud than to represent an industry from which I have benefited so much. I reflect upon my own experiences since an 18-year-old beginning my tenure with the NCAA and am incredibly grateful for what my time as a student-athlete and now college athletic administrator has done for me as a person and professional. Working in athletics has allowed me to travel the world, meet people I otherwise would not have, and hold conversations with strangers that have forced me to change my worldview. Nonetheless, my respect for student-athletes and the organization of sport has not prevented me from experiencing a lack of comfort that many Black Americans carry with them daily.
I am uncomfortable to look around an industry where a significant portion of its revenue, generated by a workforce of majority students of color lacks the same diversity in leadership. In 2019 49% of FBS Division I Football Players were Black men, in that same year only 15% of Division I FBS Football Head Coaches were also Black (NCAA, 2019). Amongst administration, diverse racial representation is even more lacking.
I am uncomfortable when I hear conversations with well-meaning coaches, administrators, and supporters who emit microaggressions about student-athletes because they are unaware of social and cultural aggressions that people of color have experienced for generations.
I am uncomfortable when I see leaders of black and brown students who in 2020 post online statements saying that they've never considered the experience of these athletes because they do not have the same struggles. These instances make me uncomfortable because it seems for so long that our eyes have been closed to what is right in front of us. If we are so unaware of the immense struggles that our athletes face, how are we bettering them for life after graduation? These particular discomforts, I do not believe, are what Dr. Brown was referring to when she told us to lean in, but even so, I concluded that to grow in my career I would need to see and experience these challenges head-on so that eventually I could work to eradicate them. Presently, I find myself uncomfortable because these conversations necessary for change are uneasy to have.
An argument I've seen in recent weeks, particularly about athletes is "what do these kids have to complain about? How are their lives any more difficult than mine?". From afar, the life of a student-athlete does seem like one filled with private flights, a seemingly endless flow of athletic gear, and the biggest prize of all, scholarship. These characteristics of the student-athlete experience would not be wrong for some, but what critics of this movement are forgetting is that student-athletes and others who have come forth in recent weeks are not speaking about their experiences as an athlete but as a human. The examples that we often see on television of our black athletes in the limelight have presented themselves as problematic for those who cannot understand that these glimpses on television are for only a moment in time.
When our Black athletes leave their field of play, they are Black individuals, and these are the rights and protections that you are seeing them fight for today. Unfortunately, Tamir Rice, Sandra Bland, Trayvon Martin, Ahmaud Arbery, and countless others who were killed simply because their existence was threatening were not first asked whether or not they were athletes. Thus, what we are seeing in real-time is the true bravery of our young student-athletes who have the courage and resolve to disrupt their situations and make themselves and others around them uncomfortable so that our safety as Black individuals is not contingent upon our status as an athlete.
I'm grateful for this time of discomfort because it has forced me to analyze my own thoughts and biases. To label oneself as without bias is not only lazy and socially irresponsible, but it also endangers the young men and women who we see bravely speaking up across the country every day. A deep dive inwards to become anti-racist is not an easy process but it is necessary for the growth of us as individuals, a nation, and ultimately the world.
As I was scrolling through my phone while brainstorming what to end with, another Brené Brown quote appeared on my timeline...
"Daring leaders are never silent about hard things."
I am proud of those around me, those who look like me as well as those who do not, for taking on the role of a daring leader in recent weeks. These courageous conversations require a level of vulnerability that previously I have not been courageous enough to have. I'm so inspired by student-athletes who we have seen using their platform to speak out about the injustices they experience as Black individuals. I'm equally as proud to be alumni of a program that has joined in the battle for social justice because this too requires unique levels of discomfort through introspection. I hope that we can all continue to lean into the discomfort that we are presently confronted with to truly build a better society.
Credits:
Vanessa Moore, Eddie Johnson