The Collision of Identity and Influence: A Commentary on Black Athletes and Their Philosophies
The struggle between identity and influence is not unfamiliar in the narrative of Black athletes. For some, the temptation to align with power structures that perpetuate systemic inequality creates a duality—a "white interior" that fractures solidarity within the Black community. This dynamic is not new; history bears witness to it in politics, activism, and even sports.
Muhammad Ali, however, stands as a beacon of unapologetic Black identity and defiance against conformity. The man who declared, “I ain’t got no quarrel with them Viet Cong,” epitomized the courage to embrace one's truth, even at the cost of fame, fortune, and freedom. Ali rejected the Vietnam War and refused to play into the hands of a system that sought to silence him. His sacrifice—losing his heavyweight title and facing imprisonment—was a testament to his belief that the position does not make the man; the man makes the position.
This philosophy is a stark contrast to the "Saquons of the world," whose desire to assimilate into currents of white power serves not only to dilute their own identity but also to undermine the collective progress of the Black community. They’re the ones who do the most damage to the fabric of the Black community.
To be a Black man and not consider the fact that the people you do support don’t support the people who come from your family tree, and all of the other family trees adjacent that rooted and bloomed in the same blood-stained soil as his.
Gotta be careful around the Saquons of the world.
For Saquon to say, “It’s not a hard concept,” he is absolutely right—it is not a hard concept to see the destruction that the president is causing to all Americans. It’s obvious that, like most athletes, Saquon lives in a bubble, unaware of what is occurring in the world. It is not a hard concept to understand why the people who looked up to him hoped that he would show some solidarity to them—some care, some empathy, some compassion.
It’s not a hard concept to understand that you are a Black man and you will always be a Black man, no matter how close to whiteness you can get, no matter how high you can climb on the flagpole of whiteness, no matter how much you want to be accepted by white elitism—you will never belong.
To say, “I golf with Obama” as a way to quantify support for Black people is probably the biggest slap in the face—not just to Obama but to Black people. What this fails to understand is that both men being president doesn’t make them equal men. What they stand for and represent is totally opposite.
The position doesn’t make the man; the man makes the position. Just like at running back.
Athletes like Ali exemplify what it means to wield influence responsibly—to uplift, inspire, and fight for justice. Ali's legacy reminds us that being a Black man of influence requires an unwavering commitment to one's roots and a deep understanding of how actions impact those who share the lineage.
In this light, the position of power, whether as president or running back, is meaningless without principles to guide it. The superficial trappings of success cannot equate to true leadership or authenticity. As Ali showed us, the position is shaped by the man, not the other way around.
with love + imagination
-MR. TOMONOSHi!
