@BowtiePrincipal Can a State Claim to Value Black People While Simultaneously Undermining Black Voting Rights?
The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) recently called on Black high school athletes to reconsider attending colleges and universities in states that have restricted voting rights, raising a profound moral, political, and educational question: Can a state claim to value Black people while simultaneously undermining Black voting rights?
The contradiction at the heart of this debate is hard to ignore. Many states derive substantial economic, cultural, social, and political benefits from Black athletic labor. Black athletes fill stadiums, generate television revenue, attract corporate sponsorships, and significantly enhance the prestige of colleges and universities. Yet some of these same states have been criticized for supporting policies that reduce Black political representation, weaken voting protections, and diminish the collective political voice of Black communities.
From this perspective, the NAACP's challenge is not merely about sports. It is about democracy itself. It is about whether Black participation is welcomed only when it generates economic value, or whether Black citizenship is equally respected when it seeks political power.
From an urban education standpoint, however, this debate extends beyond athletics and voting rights. It is fundamentally about Black agency, political education, civic engagement, collective action, and the relationship between education and democracy. At its core lies a larger question: How should Black communities organize their power to secure lasting social and political change?
The NAACP's Strategy: Mobilizing Black Athletic Power Now
The NAACP's proposal is rooted in a long tradition of Black resistance that has utilized economic pressure as a tool for social change. Throughout American history, Black communities have employed boycotts, labor actions, economic withdrawal, and collective protest to challenge systems of inequality and marginalization.
The organization's argument is straightforward. If states benefit from Black athletic talent while supporting policies that diminish Black political power, Black athletes should use their collective leverage to challenge those contradictions. In this framework, athletic talent becomes a form of political, economic, and social capital that can be withdrawn.
The NAACP's strategy is grounded in urgency—the need for an immediate response to political disenfranchisement. Voting rights are under attack now. Political representation is being challenged now. Therefore, Black athletic power should be mobilized now. Underlying this position is the belief that unused power is power surrendered. The NAACP sees Black athletes not merely as sports participants but as citizens whose decisions can influence institutions and public policy.
Harry Edwards' Strategy: Organize Before You Mobilize
Dr. Harry Edwards, perhaps the most influential sociologist and organizer of athlete activism in American history, does not reject the NAACP's concerns. Rather, he questions whether the proposed strategy is sufficiently organized to achieve its intended goals. He’s reflecting on the impact of long-term strategic planning versus a short-term, immediate response that offers no guarantee of achieving the desired impact.
Edwards argues that successful athlete activism has historically been embedded within broader political movements. The Olympic Project for Human Rights, the protests of Muhammad Ali, the raised fists of Tommie Smith and John Carlos, and, more recently, the activism associated with Black Lives Matter all emerged within larger political ecosystems that provided ideological support, organizational capacity, and community infrastructure.
For Edwards, the issue is not whether Black athletes should act. The issue is whether they possess the organizational foundation necessary to sustain collective action and withstand inevitable resistance—backlash is certain in this case. His concern is practical. Who will support student-athletes if scholarships are threatened? Who will educate athletes politically? Who will coordinate action across institutions? Who will sustain the movement after the initial headlines disappear? Edwards' central question is not, "Can we act?" but rather, "Can we win?"
The Real Debate: Urgency Versus Strategy
The disagreement between the NAACP and Harry Edwards is misunderstood. Both agree that Black athletes possess power. Both agree that voting rights matter. Both agree that sports can serve as a platform for social change. The disagreement is about strategy. The NAACP asks: How can Black athletic power be used now? Dr. Harry Edwards asks: How can Black athletic power be organized to win?
This tension between urgency and strategy has persisted throughout Black history. Abolitionists debated immediate versus gradual emancipation. Civil rights activists debated litigation versus direct action. Black Power advocates debated integration versus self-determination. The challenge has never been whether change is necessary. The challenge has been determining how change can be achieved and sustained, and how Black Americans can win in a contested battle with both short-and long-term implications.
A Third Way: Bringing the People to the Table
Perhaps the most productive path forward is neither an immediate boycott nor a postponement of action. Instead, it is a collaborative process that combines urgency with organization. The first step should be a national convening involving the NAACP, Dr. Harry Edwards, and other scholars of athlete activism, student-athletes, parents and families, coaches, former athletes, professional athletes, voting rights advocates, community organizations, and education and civic leaders and organizations.
Historically, effective Black leadership has not emerged from speaking for the people but from speaking with the people. During the abolitionist, Civil Rights, and Black Power Movements, leaders were often viewed as spokespersons for the community. Yet their legitimacy stemmed from maintaining close contact with the people they represented. In all cases, leadership required listening, learning, and accountability. As Kwame Nkrumah famously advised:
"Go to the people, live among them, learn from them, love them, plan with them, start with what they know, and build on what they have."
This principle remains relevant today. Any strategy involving Black athletes must reflect the interests, concerns, fears, hopes, and aspirations of those most directly affected. At the micro level, this means student-athletes and their families. At the macro level, this means Black voters and Black communities.
Shared Sacrifice and Collective Responsibility
One challenge associated with athlete activism is that the burden of sacrifice often falls disproportionately on young people. If Black athletes are asked to assume risk, then adults, institutions, communities, and allies must also be willing to sacrifice. A sustainable movement requires shared responsibility, accountability, and collective action. Athletes should not be expected to carry alone the burden of defending democracy. The struggle for voting rights belongs to the entire community.
A meaningful strategy must therefore extend beyond a call for Black athletes to avoid attending institutions located in states that undermine Black voting rights. Such an approach risks placing the entire burden of resistance on a relatively small group of young people, many of whom view athletics as a pathway to higher education, economic mobility, and family advancement. If sacrifice is required, it must be distributed across multiple stakeholders and accompanied by viable alternatives.
One immediate strategy would be to create pathways for student-athletes to redirect their talents toward colleges and universities in states that demonstrate a commitment to protecting voting rights and democratic participation. Colleges, universities, athletic conferences, corporate sponsors, alumni organizations, and philanthropic foundations could collaborate to increase scholarship opportunities and Name, Image, and Likeness (NIL) resources for athletes who choose to attend institutions in states that protect civic participation and voting access. Rather than merely telling athletes where not to go, the movement must also help create attractive opportunities showing them where they can go.
Professional athletes, particularly those who graduated from targeted institutions, could play a critical role in this effort. Former athletes who benefited from these programs possess both financial resources and public influence. They could establish scholarship funds, NIL collectives, mentoring programs, and educational trusts designed to support student-athletes who make decisions aligned with democratic values and civic engagement. Such initiatives would transform symbolic protest into tangible support.
At the same time, responsibility should extend beyond athletes. Parents and students of all racial backgrounds who are concerned about voting rights could participate by reconsidering enrollment decisions at targeted institutions. Universities depend not only on athletic recruits but also on tuition-paying students, alumni donations, and institutional reputation. A broader enrollment boycott would communicate that concerns about democratic participation extend beyond athletics and affect the entire educational enterprise.
Similarly, consumers can exercise economic influence through collective action. Alumni, community members, and supporters could choose to withhold financial support from targeted athletic programs by refraining from purchasing team merchandise, attending games, subscribing to premium athletic content, or contributing to booster organizations. Television ratings drive media contracts worth billions of dollars. Coordinated efforts to reduce viewership of selected athletic programs would send a message that democratic values matter beyond the playing field. Historically, economic boycotts have proven most effective when they engage entire communities rather than isolated groups.
Faith communities, civic organizations, fraternities and sororities, labor unions, voting rights organizations, and advocacy groups could also contribute by organizing voter registration campaigns, sponsoring civic education initiatives, and providing logistical support to affected communities. Schools and universities could expand programs that educate students about the relationship between voting rights, citizenship, democracy, and public policy. Community leaders could host town halls, listening sessions, and public forums that connect athletic activism to broader struggles for democratic participation.
A particularly important component of any strategy should be political education. Throughout Black history, successful movements have relied not only on protest but also on the development of political consciousness. Student-athletes should be equipped with opportunities to study the histories of athlete activism, voting rights struggles, community organizing, and democratic participation. Such preparation enables athletes to act not merely as symbols of protest but as informed civic leaders capable of sustaining long-term change.
A balanced approach therefore requires both immediate action and long-term movement building. Short-term responses might include identifying a limited number of institutions for targeted action, launching voter education campaigns, developing athlete leadership councils, creating scholarship and NIL alternatives, encouraging selective consumer boycotts, and building partnerships among athletes, educators, community organizations, and voting rights advocates. These actions create visibility while spreading accountability and risk across a broader coalition.
Long-term success, however, will require building durable institutions capable of sustaining democratic engagement long after a particular controversy fades from public attention. The ultimate goal should not merely be to punish institutions or react to political developments. Rather, the goal should be to strengthen civic participation, expand political education, increase voter engagement, and build the organizational capacity necessary to protect democratic rights for future generations.
In this sense, the challenge before us is not simply how to mobilize Black athletic power, but how to transform that power into a broader movement for democratic renewal. Only when sacrifice is shared, alternatives are provided, and collective responsibility is embraced can activism move beyond symbolic protest and toward sustainable social change.
Conclusion
The fundamental question that frames this debate--Can a state claim to value Black people while simultaneously undermining Black voting rights?--cannot be answered from a reactionary perspective alone. Nor can it be answered solely through the lens of contemporary politics. Rather, it must be examined within the broader historical context of Black Americans' ongoing struggle for citizenship, representation, self-determination, and democratic participation.
History reminds us that Black communities have long confronted a paradox in American society: being valued for their labor, talents, creativity, and economic contributions while simultaneously being denied full access to political power and democratic rights. From slavery and Reconstruction to Jim Crow, from the Civil Rights Movement to contemporary debates over voting rights, the struggle has never simply been about inclusion. It has been about whether Black Americans are recognized as full participants in democracy itself.
The debate between the NAACP and Dr. Harry Edwards highlights two equally important truths. The first is that moments of democratic crisis demand action. The second is that lasting victories require organization, political education, strategic planning, and institution building. Urgency without strategy risks symbolic victories that fade quickly. Strategy without urgency risks inaction in the face of injustice. The challenge before us is not choosing one over the other, but integrating both into a coherent movement capable of producing sustainable change.
The path forward requires more than asking whether Black athletes should boycott specific institutions. It requires asking how communities can mobilize their political, economic, educational, and cultural resources collectively to defend democracy. It requires expanding the conversation beyond athletes to include parents, educators, faith leaders, alumni, civic organizations, professional athletes, students, voters, and community stakeholders. The defense of voting rights cannot rest on the shoulders of a select group of young people. It must become a shared responsibility and a collective sacrifice.
As Kwame Nkrumah wisely advised, effective leadership begins by going to the people, living among them, learning from them, loving them, planning with them, and building on their existing strengths. Any meaningful strategy must emerge from the voices and experiences of those most directly affected—student-athletes deciding where to attend college, families navigating educational opportunities, and communities seeking to protect their political voice. Democratic solutions require democratic engagement.
Ultimately, the goal should not be merely to react to policies that threaten voting rights. Rather, the goal should be to build enduring structures that protect democracy for future generations. This means investing in political education, strengthening civic participation, supporting voter engagement, cultivating new leaders, and developing institutions that can sustain collective action long after public attention has shifted elsewhere.
The question before us is not merely whether Black athletic power can influence public policy. The broader question is whether communities can transform that power into a broader movement for democratic renewal. The answer will depend not on individual acts of protest alone, but on our collective willingness to organize, educate, sacrifice, and build.
The time has come to move beyond reactionary politics and toward sustainable solutions. Defending voting rights, democratic participation, and human dignity requires nothing less than a coordinated commitment to collective action. If history teaches us anything, it is that meaningful change occurs when communities unite around a common purpose, translate their values into institutions, and turn their aspirations into organized action. The challenge before us is not merely to respond to the present moment but to build the democratic future that generations before us struggled to make possible.
About the Author
Dr. Rashid Faisal is Department Chair and Associate Professor in the College of Urban Education at Davenport University. His scholarship focuses on urban education, Black educational history, and the intersection of Black athletes, social activism, civic engagement, and democracy. He examines how sports have historically served as a platform for leadership development, political consciousness, and social change within Black communities.
The National Association for the Advancement of Colored People (NAACP) recently called on Black high school athletes to reconsider attending colleges and universities in states that have restricted voting rights, raising a profound moral, political, and educational question: Can a state claim to value Black people while simultaneously undermining Black voting rights?
The contradiction at the heart of this debate is hard to ignore. Many states derive substantial economic, cultural, social, and political benefits from Black athletic labor. Black athletes fill stadiums, generate television revenue, attract corporate sponsorships, and significantly enhance the prestige of colleges and universities. Yet some of these same states have been criticized for supporting policies that reduce Black political representation, weaken voting protections, and diminish the collective political voice of Black communities.
From this perspective, the NAACP's challenge is not merely about sports. It is about democracy itself. It is about whether Black participation is welcomed only when it generates economic value, or whether Black citizenship is equally respected when it seeks political power.
From an urban education standpoint, however, this debate extends beyond athletics and voting rights. It is fundamentally about Black agency, political education, civic engagement, collective action, and the relationship between education and democracy. At its core lies a larger question: How should Black communities organize their power to secure lasting social and political change?
The NAACP's Strategy: Mobilizing Black Athletic Power Now
The NAACP's proposal is rooted in a long tradition of Black resistance that has utilized economic pressure as a tool for social change. Throughout American history, Black communities have employed boycotts, labor actions, economic withdrawal, and collective protest to challenge systems of inequality and marginalization.
The organization's argument is straightforward. If states benefit from Black athletic talent while supporting policies that diminish Black political power, Black athletes should use their collective leverage to challenge those contradictions. In this framework, athletic talent becomes a form of political, economic, and social capital that can be withdrawn.
The NAACP's strategy is grounded in urgency—the need for an immediate response to political disenfranchisement. Voting rights are under attack now. Political representation is being challenged now. Therefore, Black athletic power should be mobilized now. Underlying this position is the belief that unused power is power surrendered. The NAACP sees Black athletes not merely as sports participants but as citizens whose decisions can influence institutions and public policy.
Harry Edwards' Strategy: Organize Before You Mobilize
Dr. Harry Edwards, perhaps the most influential sociologist and organizer of athlete activism in American history, does not reject the NAACP's concerns. Rather, he questions whether the proposed strategy is sufficiently organized to achieve its intended goals. He’s reflecting on the impact of long-term strategic planning versus a short-term, immediate response that offers no guarantee of achieving the desired impact.
Edwards argues that successful athlete activism has historically been embedded within broader political movements. The Olympic Project for Human Rights, the protests of Muhammad Ali, the raised fists of Tommie Smith and John Carlos, and, more recently, the activism associated with Black Lives Matter all emerged within larger political ecosystems that provided ideological support, organizational capacity, and community infrastructure.
For Edwards, the issue is not whether Black athletes should act. The issue is whether they possess the organizational foundation necessary to sustain collective action and withstand inevitable resistance—backlash is certain in this case. His concern is practical. Who will support student-athletes if scholarships are threatened? Who will educate athletes politically? Who will coordinate action across institutions? Who will sustain the movement after the initial headlines disappear? Edwards' central question is not, "Can we act?" but rather, "Can we win?"
The Real Debate: Urgency Versus Strategy
The disagreement between the NAACP and Harry Edwards is misunderstood. Both agree that Black athletes possess power. Both agree that voting rights matter. Both agree that sports can serve as a platform for social change. The disagreement is about strategy. The NAACP asks: How can Black athletic power be used now? Dr. Harry Edwards asks: How can Black athletic power be organized to win?
This tension between urgency and strategy has persisted throughout Black history. Abolitionists debated immediate versus gradual emancipation. Civil rights activists debated litigation versus direct action. Black Power advocates debated integration versus self-determination. The challenge has never been whether change is necessary. The challenge has been determining how change can be achieved and sustained, and how Black Americans can win in a contested battle with both short-and long-term implications.
A Third Way: Bringing the People to the Table
Perhaps the most productive path forward is neither an immediate boycott nor a postponement of action. Instead, it is a collaborative process that combines urgency with organization. The first step should be a national convening involving the NAACP, Dr. Harry Edwards, and other scholars of athlete activism, student-athletes, parents and families, coaches, former athletes, professional athletes, voting rights advocates, community organizations, and education and civic leaders and organizations.
Historically, effective Black leadership has not emerged from speaking for the people but from speaking with the people. During the abolitionist, Civil Rights, and Black Power Movements, leaders were often viewed as spokespersons for the community. Yet their legitimacy stemmed from maintaining close contact with the people they represented. In all cases, leadership required listening, learning, and accountability. As Kwame Nkrumah famously advised:
"Go to the people, live among them, learn from them, love them, plan with them, start with what they know, and build on what they have."
This principle remains relevant today. Any strategy involving Black athletes must reflect the interests, concerns, fears, hopes, and aspirations of those most directly affected. At the micro level, this means student-athletes and their families. At the macro level, this means Black voters and Black communities.
Shared Sacrifice and Collective Responsibility
One challenge associated with athlete activism is that the burden of sacrifice often falls disproportionately on young people. If Black athletes are asked to assume risk, then adults, institutions, communities, and allies must also be willing to sacrifice. A sustainable movement requires shared responsibility, accountability, and collective action. Athletes should not be expected to carry alone the burden of defending democracy. The struggle for voting rights belongs to the entire community.
A meaningful strategy must therefore extend beyond a call for Black athletes to avoid attending institutions located in states that undermine Black voting rights. Such an approach risks placing the entire burden of resistance on a relatively small group of young people, many of whom view athletics as a pathway to higher education, economic mobility, and family advancement. If sacrifice is required, it must be distributed across multiple stakeholders and accompanied by viable alternatives.
One immediate strategy would be to create pathways for student-athletes to redirect their talents toward colleges and universities in states that demonstrate a commitment to protecting voting rights and democratic participation. Colleges, universities, athletic conferences, corporate sponsors, alumni organizations, and philanthropic foundations could collaborate to increase scholarship opportunities and Name, Image, and Likeness (NIL) resources for athletes who choose to attend institutions in states that protect civic participation and voting access. Rather than merely telling athletes where not to go, the movement must also help create attractive opportunities showing them where they can go.
Professional athletes, particularly those who graduated from targeted institutions, could play a critical role in this effort. Former athletes who benefited from these programs possess both financial resources and public influence. They could establish scholarship funds, NIL collectives, mentoring programs, and educational trusts designed to support student-athletes who make decisions aligned with democratic values and civic engagement. Such initiatives would transform symbolic protest into tangible support.
At the same time, responsibility should extend beyond athletes. Parents and students of all racial backgrounds who are concerned about voting rights could participate by reconsidering enrollment decisions at targeted institutions. Universities depend not only on athletic recruits but also on tuition-paying students, alumni donations, and institutional reputation. A broader enrollment boycott would communicate that concerns about democratic participation extend beyond athletics and affect the entire educational enterprise.
Similarly, consumers can exercise economic influence through collective action. Alumni, community members, and supporters could choose to withhold financial support from targeted athletic programs by refraining from purchasing team merchandise, attending games, subscribing to premium athletic content, or contributing to booster organizations. Television ratings drive media contracts worth billions of dollars. Coordinated efforts to reduce viewership of selected athletic programs would send a message that democratic values matter beyond the playing field. Historically, economic boycotts have proven most effective when they engage entire communities rather than isolated groups.
Faith communities, civic organizations, fraternities and sororities, labor unions, voting rights organizations, and advocacy groups could also contribute by organizing voter registration campaigns, sponsoring civic education initiatives, and providing logistical support to affected communities. Schools and universities could expand programs that educate students about the relationship between voting rights, citizenship, democracy, and public policy. Community leaders could host town halls, listening sessions, and public forums that connect athletic activism to broader struggles for democratic participation.
A particularly important component of any strategy should be political education. Throughout Black history, successful movements have relied not only on protest but also on the development of political consciousness. Student-athletes should be equipped with opportunities to study the histories of athlete activism, voting rights struggles, community organizing, and democratic participation. Such preparation enables athletes to act not merely as symbols of protest but as informed civic leaders capable of sustaining long-term change.
A balanced approach therefore requires both immediate action and long-term movement building. Short-term responses might include identifying a limited number of institutions for targeted action, launching voter education campaigns, developing athlete leadership councils, creating scholarship and NIL alternatives, encouraging selective consumer boycotts, and building partnerships among athletes, educators, community organizations, and voting rights advocates. These actions create visibility while spreading accountability and risk across a broader coalition.
Long-term success, however, will require building durable institutions capable of sustaining democratic engagement long after a particular controversy fades from public attention. The ultimate goal should not merely be to punish institutions or react to political developments. Rather, the goal should be to strengthen civic participation, expand political education, increase voter engagement, and build the organizational capacity necessary to protect democratic rights for future generations.
In this sense, the challenge before us is not simply how to mobilize Black athletic power, but how to transform that power into a broader movement for democratic renewal. Only when sacrifice is shared, alternatives are provided, and collective responsibility is embraced can activism move beyond symbolic protest and toward sustainable social change.
Conclusion
The fundamental question that frames this debate--Can a state claim to value Black people while simultaneously undermining Black voting rights?--cannot be answered from a reactionary perspective alone. Nor can it be answered solely through the lens of contemporary politics. Rather, it must be examined within the broader historical context of Black Americans' ongoing struggle for citizenship, representation, self-determination, and democratic participation.
History reminds us that Black communities have long confronted a paradox in American society: being valued for their labor, talents, creativity, and economic contributions while simultaneously being denied full access to political power and democratic rights. From slavery and Reconstruction to Jim Crow, from the Civil Rights Movement to contemporary debates over voting rights, the struggle has never simply been about inclusion. It has been about whether Black Americans are recognized as full participants in democracy itself.
The debate between the NAACP and Dr. Harry Edwards highlights two equally important truths. The first is that moments of democratic crisis demand action. The second is that lasting victories require organization, political education, strategic planning, and institution building. Urgency without strategy risks symbolic victories that fade quickly. Strategy without urgency risks inaction in the face of injustice. The challenge before us is not choosing one over the other, but integrating both into a coherent movement capable of producing sustainable change.
The path forward requires more than asking whether Black athletes should boycott specific institutions. It requires asking how communities can mobilize their political, economic, educational, and cultural resources collectively to defend democracy. It requires expanding the conversation beyond athletes to include parents, educators, faith leaders, alumni, civic organizations, professional athletes, students, voters, and community stakeholders. The defense of voting rights cannot rest on the shoulders of a select group of young people. It must become a shared responsibility and a collective sacrifice.
As Kwame Nkrumah wisely advised, effective leadership begins by going to the people, living among them, learning from them, loving them, planning with them, and building on their existing strengths. Any meaningful strategy must emerge from the voices and experiences of those most directly affected—student-athletes deciding where to attend college, families navigating educational opportunities, and communities seeking to protect their political voice. Democratic solutions require democratic engagement.
Ultimately, the goal should not be merely to react to policies that threaten voting rights. Rather, the goal should be to build enduring structures that protect democracy for future generations. This means investing in political education, strengthening civic participation, supporting voter engagement, cultivating new leaders, and developing institutions that can sustain collective action long after public attention has shifted elsewhere.
The question before us is not merely whether Black athletic power can influence public policy. The broader question is whether communities can transform that power into a broader movement for democratic renewal. The answer will depend not on individual acts of protest alone, but on our collective willingness to organize, educate, sacrifice, and build.
The time has come to move beyond reactionary politics and toward sustainable solutions. Defending voting rights, democratic participation, and human dignity requires nothing less than a coordinated commitment to collective action. If history teaches us anything, it is that meaningful change occurs when communities unite around a common purpose, translate their values into institutions, and turn their aspirations into organized action. The challenge before us is not merely to respond to the present moment but to build the democratic future that generations before us struggled to make possible.
About the Author
Dr. Rashid Faisal is Department Chair and Associate Professor in the College of Urban Education at Davenport University. His scholarship focuses on urban education, Black educational history, and the intersection of Black athletes, social activism, civic engagement, and democracy. He examines how sports have historically served as a platform for leadership development, political consciousness, and social change within Black communities.
