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The Intersectionality of Simone Biles And Scrutiny

Your feet are strategically positioned upon a mat the size of an ocean. Your breath is slow, controlled, steady. You try your best to ignore your peripheral vision in which the eyes of the world lay. You’re an Olympic gymnast.

Olympians are idols who bare the fate of a nation in their performance. They’re not given grace by spectators nor judges. Each breath and foot placement come under insurmountable scrutiny; each error is broadcasted repeatedly. Olympians are rarely gifted humanity. This is especially true for those Olympians who exist at the intersection of multiple oppressed identities. Simone Biles is the epitome of such an Olympian.

Simone Biles is an Olympian.

A woman.

A Black woman.

And, a sexual assault survivor. 

In short, the decorated gymnast lays at the intersection of four heavily scrutinized identities—none of which are allowed grace. 

The devaluation of women is well documented. Social media runs rampant with jocks mocking women for common behavior, such as how we eat brunch with friends. Discussing menstruation or carrying a tampon openly is still taboo. For each dollar a woman earns, a man earns more. Women are discouraged from careers like politics for the belief that women are too emotional for those roles. Women athletes are combated by large companies and viewers alike when they take a stance and demand higher wages. The hardworking women athletes are often told they should—in so many words—expect less because women sports are just not as revered. 

For Simone, this unsettling notion rang true after her unprecedented Rio 2016 Olympic games sweep where she was repeatedly labeled the “female Usain Bolt or Michael Phelps.” This misogynistic labeling was, at best, unintentionally used to undermine the accomplishments of female athletes. Simone soon declared, “I’m not the next Usain Bolt or Michael Phelps. I’m the first Simone Biles.” She did what many successful women are forced to do: declare her identity and successes independent of men.

The Black woman is the most dehumanized person in our societies. She is told to be strong in the face of inconceivable obstacles. She’s expected to persevere without tears. She’s simultaneously sexualized and physically compared to monkeys and apes. She’s expected to outperform her peers in order to receive the same amount of accolades. She’s subjected to a climate that weaponizes both her skin and gender against her. 

The year 2020 saw widespread coverage of Black Lives Matter protests that resulted from centuries of injustices and recent recurring murders of Black lives by American police. In a Vogue interview, Simone showed support for race when stating, “We need justice for the Black community. With the peaceful protests it’s the start of change, but it’s sad that it took all of this for people to listen. Racism and injustice have existed for years with the Black community. How many times has this happened before we had cell phones?” She went on to demonstrate her hope that Breonna Taylor would receive justice given the coverage. Unfortunately, no positive results have yielded from Breonna’s case, as with many Black women who have been harmed in our society. 

The sexual assault victim/survivor lives in a culture that states that any sexual assault is the fault of the behavior of the victim. From blatant displays to sly comments, sexual assault is falsely projected to be the outcome of uncontrollable desires or misleading temptations. Thereby, the assaulter deserved mercy as, although the assault was wrong, it was expected given the circumstances. This detrimental sentiment only loses ground in the case of child molestation. Yet, even then, the child victim/survivor is often asked why they didn’t speak up. 

Like too many sexual assault victims/survivors, multiple gymnasts didn’t realize that they had been sexually assault by Larry Nassar, convicted sex offender and former team doctor for the United States’ women’s national gymnastic team. “All those years no one ever told us what sexual abuse was,” said Simone recently in her seven part docuseries, broadcasted on Facebook Watch. In the aftermath of the realization of her abuse, she “shut everybody out” and endured depression. Both outcomes are common amongst sexual assault victims and survivors.

Each of Simone’s known identities pose different hardships. It’s hard to believe that such hardships occur independently of one another. In reality, the opposite is true. It is very likely that Simone has felt the weight of the identities upon her all at once at some point or another. Yet, like many career women, like the strong Black woman, like the sexual assault survivor, and just like an Olympian, Simone rarely shows pause.

But, for the Tokyo 2021 Olympic games, that all changed. Simone emphasized her humanity above all for the first time. Following in the footsteps of the highly accomplished Naomi Osaka, Simone Biles withdrew from the competition, citing mental health reasons. 

Her sudden withdrawal was met with both the praise and scrutiny, expected as aligned with her identities. Before the Tokyo games, she had “…only taken like two ever…mental days.” This means that the majority of her upbringing and gymnastics career was spent with little mental rest, a sometimes deadly phenomenon that many of us have fallen victim to. She characteristically stated, “You usually don't hear me say things like that, because I'll usually persevere and push through things,” when discussing her withdrawal. She had been living up to the expectations placed upon her, by both society and self, to practice resilience without hesitation. 

It took years for her to understand the importance of prioritizing mental well-being. This is not a surprising notion given the lack of grace society allows those in her identities to have, on top of damaging stigmatization of mental health issues. Taking a moment to reflect and rest is something our culture has historically compared to weakness or laziness. Neither weakness or laziness is a virtue positively viewed upon in women, Black women, sexual assault victims and survivors, and Olympians. Each identity is expected to live another day without assessing yesterday. 

She now loudly proclaims, “it’s okay to say I need help.” Her newfound stance is in support of the recent wave of Black female athletes taking a stance to protect their mental well-being. Those who criticized her decision do so from a place of dangerous misunderstanding. Many of the critics are willfully ignorant of the troubles forced upon her given her identities. Simone’s withdrawal represents courageous strength. She has chosen to step away from the day to have a better tomorrow.