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Colin Kaepernick’s “Colin in Black and White” is a six-part Netflix miniseries that draws a line between history, hip hop, sports, socioeconomic systems and race, to glean insight into how Kaepernick became who he is today. Its earnestness makes it endearing.
On the whole, the series does its job giving context to how Colin grew up. Ava Duvernay’s hand can make it feel a bit preachy if you aren’t aware of her style. However it’s hard not to find yourself indignant watching the series Mixed among Colin’s biography are clips from other significant media moments that indict the pervasiveness of white supremacy within American pop culture. It draws parallels between the NBA and NFL leagues and their efforts to police Blackness, and calls out other socioeconomic policies that do the same. Kaepernick is not only the subject but the narrator. His presence is a reminder that he is a football player, who was a reluctant activist and is now ACTIVATED. Colin has his signature glistening Afro commanding attention in each shot. It frames him as a pseudo historian, and inheritor of legacy by simply being a Black man who dared to have a point of view. Not so surprisingly, he finds a parallel and kinship between himself and Allen Iverson.
The first episode tells the story of a teenage Kaepernick, who grows up in a California town known for its “scarcity of Black people,” raised by two painfully white bread parents. He’s 14 and already showing exceptional athletic promise, but like any kid his age, is searching for cool. A.I. is everywhere at the time, (who can forget this iconic Slam cover) and his influence on the sports and aesthetic had young Black men coloring outside the lines, which leads Colin and his friend to get their hair braided. While he doesn’t say so explicitly, it’s clear that Colin doesn’t spend a lot of time among other Black people up until this point. His mother, Teresa, squirms as she tries to help give her son the sense of belonging he craves, though her discomfort is palpable—Colin isn’t old enough to drive himself, so all of his socialization is entirely dependent on his parents’ ability and willingness to get him to where the action is. Which means Teresa’s gotta be there, too.
As I watched, I found myself wondering if Teresa and her husband knew that they had adopted a Black child, or if they even stopped to consider what that might require of them. (His parents have two older biological children.) Their depiction in the show reveals that at least early on, the Kaepernicks shared some of the same prejudices, so much so that they seem relieved when Colin’s baseball coach relays the message that he needs to cut his braids because they look “unprofessional.”
“Rules are rules,” TV Rick Kaepernick says about the rule that no one has ever heard of before. Colin asks why his parents won’t defend him. By the end of the exchange, which includes his parents using the word “thug,” present-day Kap says he won’t wear his hair braided again for another 14 years. At this point I ask myself, I wonder what his parents are thinking of this depiction?
The older Colin gets (the more the series progresses) he comes to realize that even though his parents love him, he is living in a different reality. Again, I ask, we’re his parents choosing willful ignorance or are they truly unaware that they were raising a black man.
“Growing up with white parents, I moved through life with their audacity of whiteness,” he says. “I assumed their privilege was mine. I was in for a rude awakening.”
The series calls into question everything from the idea of merit to standards of beauty (episode 5 about his crush on a Black girl named Crystal was maddening—it’s been a while since I’ve heard someone derided “blue Black”—and lends itself to a discussion of Kenneth Clark’s infamous doll test that was used to overturn “separate but equal” policy in public schools.) This shows that Kap’s immersion in an all-white world has not left him confused about who he is, but rather heightened his awareness of who he is not.
It makes it hard to root for his parents because they are so… oblivious. The series doesn’t villainize them, per se, but it’s the kind of “we don’t see color” bullshit that tries my patience. It’s also hard not to cringe as Colin misidentifies sweet potato pie as pumpkin, poor thing. Or when his parents let him drive (while they are in the car) and Colin gets stopped by a cop. His parents can’t understand why they were pulled over and also agree that Colin “dodged” getting a speeding ticket.
(Dog whistle hears dodged getting shot)
The Kaepernick’s depiction was enough to make me wonder if Colin and his parents had an adversarial relationship but it’s good to know that they have been supportive. I walked away with mixed emotions. A white couple who clearly loved their son. He was not black or white. He was loved. However I was equally angry that they didn’t realize that their son was BLACK according to societal norms and he would be treated as such.
I have thoughts as a black person watching this series yet I’m curious to see what a white person thinks …
