Every four years, I suffer from a condition. I feel confused, disconnected from friends and co-workers, yet strangely compelled to engage foreign matters. These feelings are brought on by the arrival of the World Cup. Through conversations with a number of my black American friends I’ve learned that I am not alone in this sentiment. While the World Cup represents one of the most important events to take place around the globe, it remains far from sacred to Americans; even less so to many black Americans.
I recognize that the World Cup is very significant to many of my brothers and sisters throughout the African diaspora, but I wonder if it will ever hold deep meaning for most of us. While it may just seem like a sporting event, mending our disconnection from the World Cup holds great promise for African-Americans; learning to appreciate it could usher in a new period of global citizenship.
As I recently sat watching the United States v. England match someone asked, “Who are you rooting for?” “Neither! I don’t like colonizers or oppressors,” I responded. Off the cuff, I quickly realized that my comment spoke to a dilemma the sport presents to many black people in this country. My disengagement with the World Cup wasn’t just about politics, it was also about how I was socialized.
In the United States soccer is an overwhelmingly middle class, suburban and predominantly white activity. Images of plush green fields, orange slices and minivans rush to my mind when I hear the word soccer.
By contrast, around the world, children mired in poverty find football, as the majority of the world calls it, an ideal athletic outlet. Whether it is played on the plush fields of London or the dusty expanses of Dakar, soccer is a language for communication and competition. Sadly, it is an international language from which many black Americans have been barred.
Sports are not foreign to black Americans, but over the years there has been a continued narrowing of sporting options. Sports like hockey and golf attract few black youth because of their high costs. But soccer is economically accessible, so if it’s not about the money, then what’s the problem?
Sociologist Scott Brooks finds that black youth, particularly boys, are socialized heavily toward basketball. While many try to argue that black boys are naturally talented at hoops and view it as their only option out of poverty, neither could be further from the truth. We have the potential to excel at any sport, but outside factors have shaped our interests and abilities over time. Need proof? Look no further than the declining presence of African-Americans in baseball. The messages we pass and the opportunities we present dictate the paths that we take to recreation and beyond. While there are many barriers to linking black Americans to the globe, such as poverty, segregation and unequal access to technology, soccer could provide an alternative path to connection.
I began watching the World Cup when my friends from college began pestering me to check it out. I wasn’t completely unexposed, having been the lone black kid on a handful of soccer teams growing up. But I didn’t realize the global importance of the Cup, particularly to the African diaspora. As anthropologist Michael Ralph has pointed out, in places like Senegal soccer is often about more than simple sport — it represents historical and contemporary political battlegrounds. I am slowly coming into an appreciation for the World Cup, not just as a sport, but also as an opportunity to foster camaraderie throughout the diaspora. The work of uniting the diaspora doesn’t have to be limited to politics and protest. It can also be linked in play.
R. L’Heureux Lewis is an Assistant Professor of Sociology and Black Studies at the City College of New York – CUNY. His research concentrates on issues of educational inequality, the role of race in contemporary society, and mental health well-being.
