Representation matters. But for many athletes, authentic expression has risks.
At the start of the Tokyo Olympics, Naomi Osaka, a Japanese tennis team player, was a welcome vision in her red-tinted braids, lighting the Olympic cauldron, even as her disappointing matches on the tennis court did not yield medal victory.
But such acceptance of personal expression is not the norm.
In the sports arena, “playing by the rules” takes on a whole new meaning when Black athletes are subject to a different set of rules.
In the sports arena, “playing by the rules” takes on a whole new meaning when Black athletes are subject to a different set of rules, even when it comes to their hair. A recent ruling by FINA, the international swimming federation of Fédération Internationale De Natation, barred from the Tokyo Olympics roomier swimming caps developed for swimmers with natural styles such as long braids, twists or locs.
The ruling body argued that given its “best knowledge, the athletes competing at the international events never used, neither require to use, caps of such size and configuration.” FINA later claimed in a statement that it understands “the importance of inclusivity and representation.”
Black athletes are not getting what they need to be on a level playing field with other players.
The rules actively discourage full inclusion and unfairly force Black athletes to choose between their cultural identity or their identity as an athlete.
Many successful Black athletes embrace their natural hair, such as Gabby Douglas, Keyshawn Davis, or Serena Williams, but too many barriers remain for Black youth athletes who wish to participate.
New research from the Women’s Sports Foundation found that hair-related concerns pose barriers to participation for Black female athletes. An article on this in Goodsport is titled, “The Hair Barrier For Female African American Athletes.”
As a sports neuropsychologist and parent of two teenage athletes, one of us spends most of the day with athletes, seeing first-hand the benefits of being involved in sports. These athletes are driven, focused and dedicated to their sport and their teams. They proudly wear the identity of an athlete. However, as a white woman, I never experienced personally how the rules of sports force Black athletes to choose between two important identities.
As a Black communications professional in healthcare, one of us fully understands that impending choice. I decided to go natural with my hair ten years ago and never looked back, because it was a powerful way to express my cultural identity. It did not come without risks. But the risks were calculated.
When I accepted a new position at a health care organization, I learned the rules of the game ahead of time during the interview process and asked about how well natural hair was accepted. I learned that others wore their hair natural so mine wouldn’t seemingly violate any company rules.
More organizations, institutions and workplaces are adapting to the reality of identities. The CROWN Act of 2020, an acronym for Create a Respectful and Open Workplace for Natural Hair, is a bill passed in California that prohibits discrimination based on hairstyle and hair texture. Thirteen states have passed similar legislation.
In Illinois, the Jett Hawkins Act is awaiting Governor J.B. Pritzker’s signature. It prohibits schools from issuing policies that basically police hairstyles based on race and ethnicity such as natural styles like cornrows, braids and locs.
And recently in Texas, the U.S. Department of Justice is arguing that two Texas teens are allowed to maintain the length of their locs, despite a school policy that did not allow hair “below the eyebrows or below the ear lobes when let down.”
An athletic identity has been shown to increase a person’s physical activity levels, enhance the perception of self-worth, and improve recovery from injury. Among female executives, 95 percent played a sport and 61 percent reported that the lessons learned as an athlete contributed to their success.
This benefit can be long-lasting; a 2013 study of WWII veterans found that the “single strongest predictor of later-life physical activity was whether he played a varsity sport in high school.”
Even while being isolated from their teammates during the COVID-19 pandemic, athletes reported that they benefited from their social support system and their identity as an athlete.
Black students across the country are forced to choose to cut their hair or forfeit play.
But what happens when the valuable self-identity of an athlete comes in conflict with the important cultural identity of being a Black teenager?
Black students across the country are forced to choose to cut their hair or forfeit play. After playing four softball games, one teenager in Durham, North Carolina, was told to remove the beads in her hair or be removed from play. She opted to cut her hair but later explained that she felt “dehumanized.”
These rules, which unfairly impose restrictions and create inequities for Black athletes, create an unsportsmanlike environment and create barriers to opportunities for these athletes to feel seen and be valued on—and off—the playing field.
Fortunately, a referee who forced a New Jersey high school wrestler to cut his dreadlocks or forfeit the match has been suspended for two seasons. Punishment for this cruel and entirely unnecessary practice is important.
If sports require all athletes to play by the rules, then the rules need to accommodate all athletes and allow them to bring their full selves to the game as athletes who can proudly also reflect their culture.
Some rules, quite frankly, are meant to be broken.