There was a time when conversations about marijuana - or cannabis, or pot, or dank, or weed, or trees - was considered a restricted-access subject. However, it was known as one of the most consumed recreational substances throughout my upbringing, and little was known about its medicinal value. I have seen my parents smoke; I have seen my friends smoke; there are very few people I know who don't smoke. And I know it's this ideology that leaves me confused. Why is smoking marijuana perceived as taboo? It's just a plant?!
As a kid, I remember my mother had a ceramic box with a small-lock latch on the outside. She would place the box underneath the coffee table and grab it every so often before heading to the backyard. When I was left alone in the house, I would peek and see what was inside. I knew that I knew what was inside (which was all grown-up stuff) but I couldn’t resist. Looking back, I now realize that was her personal “stash” and it reminded me of dirt and grass mixed together with a foul odor. Little did I know that what she consumed in a clandestine manner would ultimately be a gateway for financial freedom, Olympic controversy, and the debate over whether or not black men (mostly black men) should be released from jail for selling, what was then thought to be, an equally-narcotic drug.
A 2020 analysis by the American Civil Liberties Union concluded that “black people are 3.64 times more likely than white people to be arrested for marijuana possession.” In addition, “black people were up to six, eight, or almost ten times more likely to be arrested.” What makes me angry is that the same factors that keep these men in jail (also the reason why most black women say they don’t have a black husband, myself included) for selling plants are allowing their European brethren to find a way to make millions off of this newfound commodity. The more it's monetized, the less it’s considered taboo. Yet, we find ourselves stuck in an interesting conundrum: Should I, or shouldn’t I, admit I smoke weed? Should I, or shouldn’t I, approve of those who do? What about a politician who smokes? What about a journalist who smokes? Or what about an athlete who smokes? Enter Sha’Carri Richardson.
Considered one of the ten fastest women in history based on World Athletes, her meteoric rise caught everyone by surprise. The 2020 Olympic Games were appropriately labeled “Black Girl Magic,” and she is one of many we root for! Soon after the celebration, as in most cases, came the fall: “Sha’Carri Richardson banned from her signature 100-meter race for consuming marajiana.” My first reaction was disappointment. Let me explain why; it comes from a place of love and discipline. As a woman who has been one of a few - or the only one - I know how an entire culture can depend on one person, and for her to express her authenticity was truly endearing! I do understand the circumstances that led to her decision to smoke: she was sad, she was heartbroken over the loss of her biological mother, and ultimately, she consumed the substance to escape her reality. All of that I understand, but this is where I ask you to bare with me. My next assertion is about nuance; it’s about me seeing myself in her and seeing similar outcomes happen in the world of sports.
Sometimes, “self-sabotage” can knowingly or unknowingly play a significant role. It can illustrate itself as the main culprit. Was the moment too big for Sha’Carri? Did she feel a tremendous amount of pressure that she was not prepared for? Did her team put her in a position to handle the pressures of fame? However, I’m not fully supporting the “rules are the rules” crowd. In fact, there are far more egregious rules that can be broken in sport.
The tradition of participating in the Olympic Games to represent your country is the elite dream for any athlete. Only so few could say they’ve ever made that dream a reality! But the prestigious honor created in the 19th century feels as if the Olympics are still stuck in it. The Olympics and it’s governing body - the IOC, are having a difficult time evolving with the world and “today’s athlete.” Tradition rarely evolves and it must - otherwise, it can’t coexist with their current platform.
For instance, there’s another black woman athlete embroiled IN controversy. Naomi Osaka was vilified for wanting to take a mental health day; and now we know it was because she had a hard time dealing with the press, as she wrote in her op-ed piece from the New York Times:
“I communicated that I wanted to skip press conferences at Roland Garros to exercise self-care and preservation of my mental health. I stand by that. Athletes are humans. Tennis is our privileged profession, and of course there are commitments off the court that coincide. But I can’t imagine another profession where a consistent attendance record (I have missed one press conference in my seven years on tour) would be so harshly scrutinized.
Perhaps we should give athletes the right to take a mental break from media scrutiny on a rare occasion without being subject to strict sanctions.
In any other line of work, you would be forgiven for taking a personal day here and there, so long as it’s not habitual. You wouldn’t have to divulge your most personal symptoms to your employer; there would likely be HR measures protecting at least some level of privacy.”
She also held herself accountable like Sha’Carri Richardson. She also said she’s just human, just as Sha’Carri Richardson admits. We live in a world where authenticity is only approved in certain circumstances, and apparently not accepted if you are a professional athlete. We should agree that there is a blurred line between being a warrior in sport while also expressing vulnerability. It is a tough choice for an athlete. I don't know if this exists in all professions, but what is clear is that it's time for change.
We started early this summer celebrating the accomplishments of these amazing black women, and as soon as they displayed their humanity - they’re vilified for being honest, and making mistakes! I do agree that “the rules are the rules,” but I also know that we never allow people in this society to evolve, be better, fall down and get back up, or restore themselves. As we head into the 2020 Tokyo Olympic Games, we are going to see more athletes practice honesty, exhibit authenticity, and demand their leverage in circumstances in which they haven't before. They are activists through their sport and through their social media. It's a growing culture, and we have to allow them to evolve as well.
The complexity of being an Olympian, which is arguably one of the highest honors for a professional athlete, is prevalent when the representation of your country falls on your shoulders. But imagine being a black athlete knowing that your country - historically - has never considered you a human, nor an entitled being, since its inception. There SHOULD be some mixed emotions, resentment, and expressed discontent. How do you represent America - when America has not represented you?
I embrace the new generation of athletes. For Sha’Carri Richardson and Naomi Osaka, expressing authenticity has led them into unwanted controversy and discipline; and in Sha’Carri’s case, she paid the ultimate price. I applaud both ladies for being loud and honest! As a black woman - we’re aware our voices were never intended to be heard. No matter how kind, sweet, or honest we are, it’s always too loud, or received as anger. Completely misunderstood. Ladies, I hear you! Black Athletes, the world hears you; and it's time for change. As the Summer Games begin, watch and cheer and celebrate with this mantra: Protect Black Women!
