, is that it is culture that is holding back prospective white American basketball players.
Whether you admit it or not, deep down inside you, the intelligent reader, kind of
believes it, too; that black men are, whether by nature or nurture,
better at the game of basketball. And that’s OK. Lots of people feel
this way. It’s a part of a belief system that began to develop decades
ago, around the time that many of our ideas on race began to shift.
During that time of radical change, new systems of racial
thought — newer, somewhat more palatable ones — began replacing their
older, more objectionable precursors. Through it all, institutional
racism remained wholly intact, albeit cloaked in a kind of deceptive
civility.
.....
Indeed, since the turn of the new century, white foreign-born players
have consistently outperformed their American counterparts. At least in
the NBA. And it’s not particularly close, either. Note, for instance,
the rosters of the past 16 All-Star Games. Then look at the makeup of
white starters and role player. Notice a trend? A majority of
them — glaringly so, given population disparity, the game’s historic
roots, etc.— are foreign-born.
......
The careers of Dirk and Nash stand as clear examples white superstars
excelling in the NBA. But it’s also true that being born and raised in
America carries with it certain, very different notions of what it means
to be white. It’s practically considered gospel that race has no place
in sports. And yet racial dynamics
very much persist. As much as I’ve tried to stay away from it as a
writer, I simply couldn’t explain past this one: White American
basketball players have a harder time than their black peers reaching
their full potential, I think, because of the stigma that comes with
being white kid playing a black game.
.....
Young whites in America grow up with the belief, however implicit, that basketball isn’t their
game. In the words of Martin Luther King, clouds of inferiority begin
to form in their little mental sky, where limitation is placed on that
rare and particular dream. We are all, in our own ways, complicit in
this, having bought into this powerfully dangerous myth, and the results
have been nothing short of astonishing.
If
you tell a child he can’t be something; that something isn’t for them:
If you do this long enough, that belief system will become his own.
Today,
such systems don’t develop as overtly as they once did: say the way
blacks were once trained to believe they were incapable of
reading — that reading wasn’t for them.
Though there may be instances where white basketball players will self
identify as somehow inferior, thereby reinforcing the stigmas and
stereotypes, the bulk of the belief stems from the unspoken, from
inference and allusion. And it can start as soon as they pick up a ball,
the glass ceiling glaring back at them. The child is told, through
unwitting social cues, often by those closest to him, that he might look
up to Michael Jordan, but he’ll never be Michael Jordan.
Again, such psychological short-selling is seldom overt, and almost never malicious.
After
all, what parent doesn’t want their child to be great at something they
love? And yet, given our lack of proper historical reflection on
matters of race and steadfast dependence on categorization, it’s hard
not to fall into these habits. No matter where you fall on the
social-political spectrum, strong racial beliefs are deeply entrenched.
The decline of the white American NBA star is, in this sense, a litmus
test. You’re white and want to be great at football? Okay. Baseball? Go
right ahead. Hockey? Obviously!
Basketball?
… Are you sure about that?
If K.L. Reeves is right, then those who are now seeking a genetic explanation for the racial disparity in the NBA are part of the problem.
