By Dr. Frances “Toni” Draper
AFRO CEO and Publisher
Sports have always been a major part of my life. From a young age, I was drawn to the energy, strategy and thrill of the game. My mother was an avid sports fan, especially of the Baltimore Colts. Some of my earliest memories involve sitting around the radio before dinner, listening to the Colts play, hanging onto every word of the announcer’s call. Football quickly became my favorite sport to watch, followed closely by baseball. But I didn’t just love watching sports—I loved participating in them too.
Growing up, baseball was my game of choice. I was the only girl in our neighborhood who would head to the alley and ask to play with the boys. I had no illusions about my place in the pecking order—I was always the next-to-last to be picked, while my younger brother was consistently near the top. There was no Title IX to ensure equity in opportunities, and my love of sports had to fit within the constraints of a world that often didn’t see girls as athletes– let alone Black girls. I even got in trouble in the sixth grade for wanting to play baseball with the boys, rather than square dance with the girls—a clear sign of how rigid gender roles were at the time.
Despite these limitations, I found ways to compete. In junior high school, I ran track and won a city-wide decathlon. Running gave me a sense of power and freedom, a feeling of accomplishment that couldn’t be denied. In high school, I set my sights on softball. I made the varsity team as an outfielder, and I still remember those moments of exhilaration and frustration—watching balls sail over the fence into the street, chasing down fly balls and the camaraderie of being part of a team. My mother, while always a devoted sports fan, hoped I wouldn’t pursue sports in college. Ultimately, I didn’t—though not because of her concerns. By then, my interests had expanded, and sports seemed too time-consuming.
My experiences as a Black woman in sports mirror the broader challenges and triumphs of Black women athletes over the past century. The road to recognition and respect has been paved with immense barriers, yet time and again, these women have shattered expectations and redefined possibilities.
Take Alice Coachman, who in 1948 became the first Black woman to win an Olympic gold medal in track and field. She trained on makeshift equipment in the segregated South, yet she still leaped into history. Wilma Rudolph overcame polio as a child to become a three-time gold medalist in the 1960 Olympics, proving the power of resilience.
In tennis, Althea Gibson was a trailblazer, breaking the color barrier in the 1950s and winning both Wimbledon and the U.S. Open. Decades later, Serena and Venus Williams revolutionized the sport, displaying unparalleled dominance, power and grace while enduring racism and scrutiny that White players never faced.
Basketball has also seen its share of Black women breaking boundaries. Cheryl Miller, an icon of the 1980s, changed the game and paved the way for stars like Sheryl Swoopes, Lisa Leslie and Candace Parker. The WNBA, while a beacon of opportunity, still struggles with disparities in pay and recognition compared to men’s professional leagues.
In gymnastics, Dominique Dawes became the first Black woman to win an individual Olympic medal in 1996, paving the way for the incredible success of Simone Biles, arguably the greatest gymnast of all time. Yet, despite Biles’ dominance, she has faced criticism that White athletes never seem to endure—whether about her scoring, mental health, or her right to step back and prioritize herself.
These women, along with countless others, have faced discrimination, financial struggles, and unequal access to opportunities. They have had to fight for respect, to prove that their presence in sports is not a novelty but a force to be reckoned with. Their victories are not just personal but collective, reshaping the sports landscape for generations to come.
For me, sports were always about the love of the game, the challenge and the joy of competition. But even personal journeys must come to an end. The last time I played softball was around age 35 when, in a final act of ambition, I dislocated my elbow trying to make it to second base. That was it—I hung up my bat and glove for good.
Still, my passion for sports remains, both as a spectator and as someone who deeply appreciates the legacy of Black women athletes. Their struggles, triumphs and resilience inspire me. From those childhood days listening to the Colts on the radio to watching today’s stars redefine what’s possible, my journey in sports—like that of so many Black women—has been one of love, perseverance, and breaking barriers, even when the world wasn’t quite ready for us.
To young female athletes who dream of making their mark in the world of sports—keep pushing forward. The road may not always be easy, but your passion, talent, and determination will open doors. Stand on the shoulders of those who came before you, and know that you are paving the way for future generations. Believe in yourself, embrace the challenges and never let anyone tell you that you don’t belong in the game!