Does this t-shirt make me look racist?

 I started this post on the plane ride back from a conference in CA in November. Conferences always gave me a spurt of writing energy. But the end of the fall 2024 semester got in the way of its completion and transcription (it was easier to pull out a notebook rather than my laptop on the plane). It is still relevant and so...

I have been wondering if the (University of) Iowa women's basketball t-shirt (and sweatshirt) I wore last year now after the end of that 2023-24 run to the final four and the subsequent 2024 WNBA season. Last year, an observer might have wondered if I was a bandwagon fan, i.e., experiencing the Caitlin Clark effect. I am an Iowa alum (PhD 2013). with a complicated relationship to Iowa athletics (see the myriad of Title IX issues, racism within programs, incompetent and violent coaching, etc.) And though I have watched women's college basketball for some time, it's mostly because I want to support women's sports. I understand very little about strategy and I cannot figure out the fouls, which is why I will always chose to sit in a cold arena watching women's collegiate ice hockey drinking watery hot chocolate. 

Yes, during my time at Iowa I did watch the Hawks, And yes, I started paying more attention during the regular season (I was always a March Madness follower) when Clark started becoming a--and then the--thing and even travelled to a post-season game in 2024 to meet up with fellow fans where we saw a LOT of band wagon-ers (literally I saw people change t-shirts from LSU to Iowa in between games). But I did not much care, when wearing my fan gears, if people thought I was new to this fandom. 

As the racism--from fans & media--grew more pronounced during the Clark era primarily, but not only, related to the "rivalry" with LSU and Angel Reese, being an Iowa fan became something I had to grapple with. Because of the aforementioned issues with Iowa athletics (and even despite its storied history of women's athletics), I had never called myself an "Iowa fan." But apparently, the winning and the hype and the feel-good stories allowed me to separate myself from the racism (and sexism and homophobia) that is not very underground at Iowa. But to dismiss the history and its current manifestations is a mistake. 

The university was sued by former Black football players for racism perpetuated by that program that is still coached by the same person! A few years ago an Iowa fan shouted a racial epithet at a University of Wisconsin wrestler. And eons ago, as a grad student I was gifted nice seats among season ticket holders for the game against Rutgers, coached by former Iowa coach and legend C Vivian Stringer. It was this big thing that the university was making into its own event (i.e., not just a basketball game). The season ticket holders next to me remarked at one point during the game that they could not tell who was who on the Rutgers team. (This was also before the Don Imus incident.) In other words, all Black women look the same. 

An approach that women's basketball is somehow separate from all that is neither sustainable, desirable, nor realistic. It is one athletics department, one university and too many "we don't condone that behavior" statements. 

This is the approach the WNBA and Indiana Fever took in the 2023-24 season as so many Clark fans "followed" her to the Fever where many remained Clark fans and by extension (kind of) Fever fans but not so much WNBA fans. (Someone needs to do a study on this--individual versus team versus org versus women's sports fandom. I don't do a lot of quant work but happy to help with literature and framing--call me 😀.)

Discussion ensued about atmosphere and safe spaces and women-centric/supportive spaces. And though I love having those discussions, there was not a whole lot of action--that I saw--beyond statements, Clark herself did very little beyond the bar-on-the-ground condemnation of racist taunts despite her fairly protected platform as a white, straight multi-millionaire.  

So what to do, what to do? For now, I have decided to wear my stuff and use the opportunity, when anyone asks, to--in some way--state my fandom and condemn the behavior of those who should be doing more/better.

Movie review: The Fire Inside

 Movie reviews seem like good ways to keep the commitment to regular blogging going so... [also, I have been doing more over at Title IX Blog about what is going to happen to the regulations in 2025.]

Two caveats for this one: I am not a trained movie critic or film expert. I am not a boxing expert or fan and really only pay attention to women's boxing when there are various controversies. Though given the number of controversies and how boxing is and is not included in conversations about women's sports and women athletes, I have a solid understanding of the sociocultural aspects of the sport (but less of one about individuals who have shaped the sport). 

I do of course know who Claressa Shields is, which is who The Fire Inside is about. 

I did not know about this movie until last month when I saw a preview at my independent theater (shout out to independent movie houses!!). I listen to several podcasts about movies and no one mentioned this film. So when I saw the preview, I was skeptical. Just because a movie is about sports does not mean I am automatically in. I skipped Iron Claw because: too depressing. [I almost skipped Challengers because I had little faith in a tennis romcom-esque story; and I should have gone with that initial instinct.]

When I saw that Barry Jenkins (Moonlight, If Beale Street Could Talk, The Underground Railroad) had written and produced it, I reconsidered my initial position: that this was going to be another bad sports biopic that followed typical tropes. Were they going to try to stuff Claressa Shields's more complicated trajectory into the typical plotline of fights hard, wins medal, lives happily ever after? 

This was not a bad sports biopic. It was a perfectly fine sports biopic. It felt slow at times and then it moved through other parts more quickly so perhaps there was a pacing issue (<-- term I picked up listening to podcasts!). It's not a must-see-in-theater movie but 1) I like to support my independent theater as I have said and 2) I had no idea where it might end up after its theater run. 

Ryan Destiny did a good job as the eldest version of Claressa. I cannot comment on how good the actual boxing was because, as noted above, I do not follow the sport. The best performances were from Brian Tyree Henry as Claressa's coach, Brian Crutchfield, and De'Adre Aziza who played his wife, Mickey. 

In addition to worries about typical biopic tropes, I had concern that this movie was going to traffic in tragedy porn. It did not--probably because of Jenkins. We first meet Claressa as an 11-year old, and it is clear that she has an unstable home life and all that comes with that. These troubles are referenced throughout but never given a lot of screen time. We are told and not shown that she has overcome a lot and honestly I was fine with that. There are a lot of shots of Flint, Michigan that I think stand in/replace what could have been pretty cringe scenes of abuse and neglect. These shots provide an unspoken context and this movie becomes, in part, a portrait of the city. 

Important takeaways: First, Shields's story is not a work hard, overcome, gain success and get continued success. The fade to black after she wins the gold medal in London (2012) might make one think the movie is over. But nothing really changed for Shields after the win for a host of reasons that the movie goes into to varying depths. More consideration should have been given to the fact that part of her post-medal lack of success was because of her race. Yes, the movie covers the fact that women athletes have to be pretty and sexy and not aggressive (an especially tough sell for boxers) but not how those expectations differ for white and black women. But what happened to Shields is not unique to her. Many Olympians, including medal-earning ones, have no support or structure in their post-Olympic lives and many do not have comebacks.

Second, the limitations of sport organizations and how they are structured around and for those with economic and class privilege really stood out to me in this movie. Crutchfield was not Shields's coach at the Olympics because he was not properly certified. So his travel to the Olympics was not covered and he was not her in-the-ring coach. USA Boxing had their own coaching staff that Shields was forced to use. Additionally, when USA Boxing finally offers her some support after her London win it is in the form of lesser pay than the men (something Shields effectively fights) and in a place far away from her family whom she supports financially and emotionally. 

In sports we do hear of athletes who are separated from their families for the purpose of training and how much of a sacrifice this is, but not that this is an impossible sacrifice for some or that maybe it should not have to be a sacrifice. We cannot praise during broadcasts the value of family support and then talk about how athletes are compelled (for those who do not want it) to separate from that. In the end, Shields goes to Colorado to train for the Rio games but it is presented as a way for her to not get dragged down by everything in Flint. And while this might be true, I did not feel great about how this is presented as her only option and the only path to success. She had to conform to the system of sport. She did change it a little along the way, which may be how I choose to remember this film in the end.