By Delgreco K. Wilson
When Angel Reese waved her hand in front of her face during the 2023 NCAA championship—a taunt directed at Caitlin Clark—the backlash was immediate and visceral. Commentators called her “classless.” More specifically, Dave Portnoy and Keith Olberman, two wealthy White male media figures, publicly vilified Reese, a Black woman, for the gesture—a gesture that Clark, a White woman, had previously employed without backlash.
Portnoy, founder of Barstool Sports, labeled Reese a “classless piece of s–t,” while Olberman called her a “fu–ing idiot.” These attacks were reinforced by thousands of White social media users who weaponized coded language, describing Reese as “ghetto” and “unsportsmanlike.”
This disparity in treatment reveals the racist double standard at play: When Clark made the same gesture, she was praised as “competitive” and “charismatic,” while Reese was demonized. The disparity was glaring, but it was not new. It echoed a pattern as old as sports itself: Black women are punished for the same behaviors that White women are allowed to embody without consequence.
This dynamic is not confined to basketball. Serena Williams, one of the greatest athletes of all time, has faced nearly identical scrutiny. In the 2018 US Open final, Williams was penalized for calling an umpire a “thief”—a violation that cost her a game. She argued that male players routinely hurl worse insults without punishment, and she was right. But the narrative swiftly shifted from her legitimate grievance to her “diva tendencies.” The same intensity that made Roger Federer a “cool competitor” and John McEnroe a “fiery legend” made Williams “hysterical.”
The parallels between Reese and Williams are impossible to ignore. Both were penalized not just for their actions, but for their refusal to conform to White norms of femininity and decorum. Reese’s unapologetic trash talk and braids clashed with the “All-American” image Clark effortlessly inhabited. Williams’ muscular frame and on-court dominance defied Eurocentric ideals of grace. Their transgressions were not against the rules of their sports but against the unwritten rules of racial hierarchy.
A Rice University study analyzing 700,000 tweets about Reese and Clark confirmed what Black women already knew: the public perceives their emotions differently. Reese’s confidence was framed as aggression; Clark’s identical behavior was framed as passion. The study found Reese was disproportionately targeted with racially coded language like “hood” and “angry,” while Clark’s taunts were excused as competitive fire. This is colorblind racism in action—bias masquerading as neutrality, where “sportsmanship” becomes a proxy for Whiteness.
The consequences extend beyond reputation. Black women athletes are routinely denied equal access to endorsement deals and leadership roles. Angel Reese, however, has managed to secure major partnerships with corporations like EA Sports, Reebok and McDonald’s—a rare breakthrough in an endorsement environment that provides limited opportunities for Black female athletes’ economic advancement. Yet, instead of being celebrated, Reese’s success has intensified the hatred directed toward her by many White males on social media. There is a deepseated and profound inability to accept this unapologetically Black and proud woman attaining financial independence and public influence.
By all reasonable measures, Reese helped drive record NCAA and WNBA viewership, yet faced relentless racist abuse. Williams, despite her 23 Grand Slam titles, has endured decades of scrutiny over her body and demeanor that her White peers never faced.
The solution is not to demand Black women shrink themselves to fit White expectations. It is to consciously create systems that do not equate Whiteness with professionalism and Blackness with disruption. When Reese and Williams are labeled “angry” for asserting themselves, the message is clear: stay in your lane. But their refusal to do so is what makes them revolutionary.
It is what has made Reese a Black cultural icon in less than two years after graduating from Louisiana State University.
Sports do not exist in a vacuum. The treatment of Reese and Williams reflects broader societal biases—the same ones that punish Black women in corporate offices, classrooms and hospitals for behaviors that go unnoticed in their White counterparts. The next time a Black woman is vilified for her passion, ask yourself: Who benefits from her silence?
The answer, as always, is power. And power rarely cedes ground without a fight.