Running while black

I’ve exercised all over the world. It’s one of the great joys I’ve been able to experience in my life — running through the streets of high-plain Peruvian cities, through Spanish countryside, or cycling across Japan and the United States. I run in my own neighborhood of Crown Heights, in Brooklyn, where I’m one of many people who have transplanted there in their 20s from outside the city. I’m aware of the privileges that have offered me that opportunity.

I must admit that in a hard portion of this time I’ve spent experiencing this joy, I have indeed thought deeply about the privilege of my freedom to do so. I’m not sure why that is — Whether it’s always been on my mind because of a wholly international youth and a mixed race identity, or my because of my education in Anthropology, I’ll never be certain — but I’ve always been receptive to the idea that there are experiences I’m “more free” to experience than others. And it’s always felt sort of … wrong.

I run with a big black dog throughout my neighborhood in Harlem. He’s not specifically there for a form of protection (it’s just my dog) but I’m acutely aware of the safety a 100lb black german shepherd mix offers me as a woman. I’m shielded from the danger of being approached as a woman running through a city alone. I’m also white passing — and regardless of the truism of my identity as a mixed person, I’m still benefitting from perceived blackness. This is why people speak of 'black adjacent' people — the structures that frame our society are such that my liberty is framed through the color of my skin, not the reality of my identity.

I don’t aim to make myself feel bad for the privilege I possess. I don’t think most people should exercise the acknowledgement of privilege as a method for 'feeling bad' about having it. A sustained dynamic of privilege exists to subjugate others, and to use one’s own privilege as a form of invitation to other who do not possess it is to do the work of cancelling it out.

I’ve thought for years that the representation in outdoor sports media is biased toward white folk unless to air a sense of exceptionalism in a non-black athlete. I fought for it, initially, for a long time. As a photographer who specializes in nighttime fringe sports, my projects have focused on diversity and inclusion, on trying to convince people of all backgrounds that they don’t need to be black and tattooed and a man in order to take part in sports. I thought I was going to be able to tell a story of everyone taking part in the great joy of exercise, because it is the one free thing we can do with our bodies, something that should be accessible to all of those who possess the freedom of bodily movement.

For a long time, I thought I was doing a good job — but I frequently ran into a lack of subjects to shoot. My sources for ‘non-black athletes’ often struggled to offer me subjects because they simply weren’t connected to enough of them. For running in particular, we must move through public space. We must move around other people. It’s not cycling, where a person’s space is predominantly solitary by virtue of one’s speed.

While there are athletes of color who compete in the similar circles I’ve been party to, they are far from the rule, they are nearly always the exception. They are very nearly always the voice shouting loudly to be heard among a homogenous field of white athletes, holding onto identity as an identifier. Either that, or they are conspiciously silent, and eventually stop showing up without anyone noticing their departure. Anyone who shouts loudly to be seen is in turn tend to be tokenized in the form of sponsorships by media invoking social responsibility marketing. ‘Inclusive’ campaigns that are inherently there to drive profit include these athletes to improve their image, not to change what is actually wrong in society.

Black people can move freely in the world, without the fear that the color of their skin will wither put them in a position of risk or that it will strike fear into someone else. Black people are not immediately seen as violating the spaces they enter unless they have specifically been told not to, and then the privacy of those spaces is seen as ‘oppressive’ and ‘racist’ because it makes black people feel what white and brown people have to feel when they enter black spaces.

Outdoor recreation is a black space, and because of it, entry by anyone other than someone black is seen as an event to be reacted to. Black people don’t even have to see that as an active potential. There is no fear that running while black will have you mistaken for a burglar, spurning a citizen militia response that results in your lynching with no question of due process. That would never have happened when running while black.

What should have been a great shift in racial-cultural consciousness for the United States instead incited even more racism, opened up even more allowances for it through the permissiveness of critiquing the public figure. It amplified fearful pearl-clutching to a position of righteousness and patriotism. It was as though by seeing the potential change available to this country in having a great leader who happened to white, the incredulity of those who had been happy with their ignorance of this potential in someone who wasn’t black took it as an affront. This incredulity soured to rage, and invective, and this invective spawned the election of a polar opposite to all the potential that was seen in a diverse America. It’s a black cultural issue, which is why it’s always framed as such and too often critiqued for being so. It is has not gotten easier to be white in America just because we had white leaders and people of color in power.

If you read this and it makes you angry because you don’t think it’s true, good. I’m glad I could raise that answer in you. I want to stoke it. I want you to feel that way, because that’s the first step you can take to really understanding the whole picture. I believe you’re angry because of that black folk’s rage toward having their autonomy under threat. It’s not your fault, necessarily. It’s generational. But you can’t be forgiven for it.




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Yori Homato

Yori Homato

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