Say Something Real

Michelle Bryant

As another NFL season unfolds, the familiar rhythms of the game echo across living rooms and stadiums. But for me, the screen remains dark. I haven’t watched a single NFL game since the league effectively blackballed Colin Kaepernick for daring to kneel in protest of racial injustice. That act of courage, taking a knee for Black lives, cost him his career and exposed the NFL’s deeply embedded issues with race, silence, and power. Yet, here I am, wrestling with conflicted emotions as I find myself quietly rooting for Shedeur Sanders, a young African-American quarterback trying to find his footing in a league that has a long history of mistreating players who look like him.

I won’t pretend it’s easy to turn away from football. The NFL has long been woven into the fabric of American culture, and for many Black families, including my own, it has been a source of pride and inspiration. But the treatment of Kaepernick was my line in the sand. He wasn’t just a talented quarterback who led his team to a Super Bowl, he was a man willing to use his platform to shine a spotlight on police brutality and systemic racism. For that, he was ostracized, boxed out of employment, and devalued by the league. The message sent was clear: in the NFL, Black people are here to entertain us, nothing more, nothing less.

Now, as I hear about Shedeur Sanders finally getting an opportunity to play, I feel a familiar pull. I want to see him succeed, defy the odds, and prove his doubters/haters wrong. At the same time, I’m painfully aware of the system he’s navigating. Like so many before him, Shedeur is learning the ropes in an arena some have called the “last plantation.” DeMaurice Smith’s new book, Turf Wars, lays bare these realities, exploring how discrimination is not just a relic of the past but a living, breathing force in today’s NFL. Smith spent fourteen years as the head of the NFL Players Association.

While a front-line advocate for players, Smith said he was there during the “Kaepernick protests, Deflategate, a lockout, two collective bargaining agreements, and more. But after witnessing the league’s troubling response to discrimination and racial unrest, both within the league and beyond, Smith realized it was time to pull back the curtain and speak truth to power.

The NFL is a place where Black bodies generate billions in revenue, but Black voices have little worth. The comparison is uncomfortable, but it’s not unwarranted. Ownership remains overwhelmingly white, while the players, disproportionately Black, are expected to amuse, not agitate. The league’s attempts at inclusion and diversity, ala their half-time Super Bowl shows, are nothing more than window dressing. This league punished Kaepernick for his convictions, yet recently asked fans to stand for a moment of silence for Charlie Kirk. As a right-wing conservative, Kirk frequently bartered in racist and divisive behavior.

So yes, I root for Shedeur, but in doing so, I am de facto helping a system that needs to be fundamentally changed. The NFL robbed this young man of the pageantry that should have accompanied his draft selection; they colluded to drop him further in the draft than any sane person could believe, costing him an estimated $48 million. However, the league has benefitted from the Shedeur Sanders Stimulus package, selling $250 million in Sanders’ jersey, use of his image to attract fans and naysayers, while only paying him a $4 million salary.

At the end of the day, I will stand in the shadows and continue my personal boycott of the NFL, because I detest not only the treatment of both these men, but a litany of other concerns. Football is just a game, but the impact of its disparate and unfair treatment has real-life implications.

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