The power of protest

Four years ago the NFL star Colin Kaepernick made headlines by sitting, then kneeling, during pre-game national anthems. He did so as a protest against policing that “oppresses black people and people of color.” After years of being alternately praised and condemned for his actions, Kaepernick’s bravery seems prescient. 

Four days ago the police shooting of Jacob Blake prompted the Milwaukee Bucks to hold a strike in protest at “ongoing racial injustices facing our African American communities.”

Instead of taking to the court for game 5 for a playoff against Orlando, the Bucks read a short statement that paid tribute to citizens who “have used their voices and platforms to speak out against these wrongdoings” and noted that  “[d]espite the overwhelming plea for change, there has been no action.” Arguing that “our focus today cannot be on basketball” they called on the Wisconsin legislature to “reconvene after months of inaction and take up meaningful measures to address issues of police accountability.” They urged their audience “to educate themselves, take peaceful and responsible action, and to remember to vote on November 3.”

The Bucks’ protest was courageous – the National Basketball Association’s collective bargaining agreement forbids strikes – and, arguably, as meaningful as anything said at either of the recent political conventions. At a moment when media coverage of the nation’s reckoning with racial injustice had been sidelined by images, and political propaganda, that seek to conflate resistance to militaristic policing with violent anarchy, some of the world’s most prominent black athletes have reframed the conversation. Within hours of the Bucks’ strike, the remaining NBA playoff teams followed suit, and the league cancelled the playoff games. Solidarity spread as teams in the Women’s NBA, Major League Baseball and Major League Soccer also withdrew from scheduled games. Their collective action immediately refocused national attention on racial justice and police reform.

It was perhaps no accident that the protest started in Milwaukee’s dressing room. In January 2018, the Bucks’ point guard Sterling Brown was violently arrested, and tased, outside a pharmacy – at 2 a.m.  – for a parking violation. The fact that the police force apologized for the way its officers had allowed the incident to ‘escalate’ did nothing to conceal the fact that this long been the default pattern for police interactions with African American men.

As ESPN college basketball reporter Myron Medcalf recently tweeted, there is always some justification offered, however absurdly, for the use of excessive police force against black Americans: “‘He had a knife.’ [Jacob Blake] ‘He used a counterfeit $20 bill.’ [George Floyd]  ‘He was selling loose cigarettes.’ [Eric Garner] ‘He was playing with a toy gun in the park.’ [Tamir Rice] ‘He walked home.’ [Trayvon Martin] ‘She was driving down to her new job.’ [Sandra Bland] ‘She was asleep in her own house.’ [Breonna Taylor] ‘He complied and reached for his license, registration.’ [Philando Castile]. This heartbreaking list will continue to grow until systemic racism is confronted by state legislatures and police departments introducing the oversight and reform that activists have recommended for years.

The point of the NBA protest was to amplify other voices. None has been more eloquent than Jacob Blake’s older sister, Letetra Widman. In a searing speech that began “I am my brother’s keeper” she asked that when the media say his name “make sure you say ‘father’, make sure you say ‘cousin’, make sure you say ‘son’, make sure you say ‘uncle’ — but most importantly, make sure you say ‘human’. Human life. Let it marinate in your mouth; in your minds. A human life. Just like every single one of you all. We are human, and his life matters.” One measure of the deep frustration that black American activists must feel is that this speech carries echoes of the iconic slogan of the Memphis sanitation workers during their historic strike in 1968: “I Am A Man”. Fifty years later, so little has changed.hat the NBA protest has done is rescue the need for racial justice from merely partisan politics. In a stunning act of professional solidarity, African-American athletes and their teammates have drawn a line in the sand and forced their teams’ fans, owners and coaches to confront America’s original sin with the political urgency and moral seriousness that it deserves.