
To Be Equal: Super Bowl LIX Demonstrates the Strength of Diversity and the Dishonesty of its Opponents
“This is the thing people seem to have intentionally forgotten: that discrimination is real and prevents qualified people from getting opportunities that they would otherwise have and the goal of DEI is to prevent that as much as possible. But there are plenty of influential people on the intellectual right who see outlawing this kind of discrimination as a fundamental perversion of what the political order is supposed to be ... which should tell you something about what the crusade against DEI actually was all about. It wasn’t about restoring merit. It wasn’t about fairness. It was about removing undesirable classes of people from the competition pool for jobs that bring high pay and high status.”
—Jamelle Bouie
Of the many lies behind the current assault on racial justice and diversity, equity, and inclusion policies, the most vicious is that DEI policies lower standards.
Nothing exposes that lie more nakedly than the world of elite and professional sports.
The two quarterbacks who are about to face off in Super Bowl LIX have led their teams to the playoffs every season that they have started. Jalen Hurts has taken his team to the Super Bowl twice in four seasons as starting quarterback for the Philadelphia Eagles, and Patrick Mahomes’ has done it five times in seven seasons starting for the Kansas City Chiefs. There is no denying their excellence.
Yet for most of NFL history, neither of these world-class athletes would have been seriously considered for the position of quarterback. In the league’s early years, they wouldn’t have had the opportunity to play any position at all.
It’s easy to see that opening the doors of opportunity for athletes of color has raised standards in every sport.
It would be ludicrous to argue that Black baseball players lacked the skill to compete in the Major Leagues before Jackie Robinson broke the color line in 1947, or that admitting Black players has diminished the level of play.
Yet that’s exactly what President Trump and other opponents of racial equity initiatives are trying to claim when they baselessly blame “DEI” for tragedies like this week’s deadly plane crash in Washington, D.C.
Anyone who assumes—or falsely claims—that the bar of achievement is always set by white men should consider the case of Johnny Weismuller’s world record. Weissmuller, an Olympic swimmer who achieved greater fame as Tarzan in the movies, set the record for 100-meter freestyle in 1922 at 58.6 seconds. In 2008, Lea Neal swam the 100-meter freestyle in 56.87 seconds. She was 12 years old. A Black swimmer who medaled in the 2012 and 2016 Olympics, Neal was able to compete because of a scholarship intended to diversify the sport. The opponents of DEI would eliminate scholarships like the one that gave Neal her opportunity.
The recruitment and development of Black athletes has undeniably raised standards in every sport. It was the barriers to their participation, in fact, that kept standards low. The same is true for every facet of society.
By giving organizations and institutions access to the broadest possible pool of talent, DEI policies unfailingly raise the level of performance by every metric. This is glaringly obvious to anyone who isn’t peering through the lens of resentment and entitlement. The problem, for those with such impaired vision, is that these policies increase competition.
Before Negro League statistics were officially incorporated into the Major League record, Ty Cobb held career batting average record with .366. Josh Gibson, who never had the opportunity to compete against white players during his lifetime, now holds the record with .372. World-class athletes come in every shape, size, color, and creed, but it’s undeniable that there are white players who might not have made the team if they’d had to compete against the talent of a Josh Gibson.
This is what is behind the attacks on DEI. Opponents use vague and undefinable terms like “woke ideology” to conceal the fact that what they’re trying to eliminate is competition. What they’re trying to reinforce is white advantage.
The two teams who will take the field next Sunday represent not only the highest level of excellence their sport has to offer, but an incredible range of ethnic, racial, and cultural diversity. A team comprised of nothing but place kickers wouldn’t go very far in the NFL. Eliminating DEI policies makes about as much sense.
—January 31, 2025
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ChildWatch: Writing the Next Chapter
In the days following President Barack Obama’s first inauguration, the preparations for Black History Month felt especially joyful. That was a moment when the entire nation could see Black history and American history being written at the same time. The record-breaking sea of nearly two million multicolored faces of all ages and from every nook and cranny of America cheering together on the National Mall during the inauguration ceremony was a visual representation of the way the threads of our diverse stories were woven together, and everywhere one looked were reminders of how Black history and American history converged. Historians pointed out that the Capitol and White House were built with enslaved people’s labor and the Mall itself sits on land that once held markets where people were sold. At a ceremony at the Lincoln Memorial earlier in the week, then President-elect Obama, surrounded by monuments to our most revered leaders, reminded the nation of how the Civil Rights March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom took place on the same sacred ground. He told us the pool in front of the Memorial “still reflects the dream of a King.”
Aretha Franklin sang “My Country ‘Tis of Thee” at that inauguration, the Queen of Soul reminding all Americans of our nation’s original promise to “let freedom ring.” Civil rights giants Dr. Dorothy Height and Congressman John Lewis, the Tuskegee Airmen, and many other trailblazers for liberty bore quiet witness by their presence. Finally, there was the benediction by Rev. Joseph Lowery, who began by quoting a stanza of the poem and hymn we know as the Black National Anthem, “Lift Every Voice and Sing”:
God of our weary years,
God of our silent tears,
Thou, who has brought us thus far on the way,
Thou, who has by Thy might
Led us into the light,
Keep us forever in the path, we pray…
Shadowed beneath Thy hand,
May we forever stand,
True to our God, true to our native land.
For all of us raised on those beloved words, the symbolism of hearing them there was overwhelming. For more than a hundred years, every time “Lift Every Voice” has rung out in a church hall, school auditorium, or community meeting, it enabled Black Americans to stand up and sing our own song about our faith in and struggle to make America’s promise real. Rev. Lowery didn’t recite every line that day, like those that speak of the bitter obstacles overcome and the blood shed along the way. He didn’t need to. We understood all that had been required for our Black National Anthem to become—at long last—part of the larger American hymn.
It goes without saying that the obvious contrasts between that joyful, hope-filled moment and this one are stark. We begin Black History Month this year with public observations of Black
History Month itself—like so much else in our nation—under targeted and chilling attack.
Yet we still know that Black history, and American women’s history, and LGBTQ history, differently abled people’s history, Native American history, Latino history, Asian American history, immigrant history, and every other line of each of our American stories are all deeply embedded chapters in American history that cannot actually be rewritten or erased by any memos or executive orders. We also know that history continues to reward those hope-filled people who have been willing to struggle and fight to keep moving America forward. When the current dangerous chapter is over, the question remains of what we want the next chapter of our shared history to say.
—January 31, 2025
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