Serena Williams recently made headlines for performing the “crip walk” dance during a Kendrick Lamar show. This incident has ignited conversations about the hypocrisy and contradictions in celebrity activism within the African American community. While many may view Williams’ performance as a celebration of culture, one must look deeper at the implications it carries, especially considering the tragic loss of her sister to gang violence.
The crip walk has roots in Los Angeles gang culture, specifically the Crips, a gang with a notorious history of violence. To see a celebrated athlete like Serena Williams engaging in this dance raises eyebrows, especially when juxtaposed with the heartbreak her family experienced due to the very violence represented by the dance. Her sister was killed by gang members, a heartbreaking reality that should instill a sense of caution rather than celebration. Yet, here she was, dancing in front of a seemingly supportive audience, seemingly oblivious to the pain associated with the dance’s real-life implications.
The irony is staggering. Williams, who has achieved tremendous success in her career and whose family has suffered deeply from gang-related violence, chooses to showcase this dance publicly. The situation brings forth questions about authenticity in activism. How can one claim to support the struggles of their community while simultaneously aligning with symbols that have caused deep pain within it? It sends an unfortunate message about what is considered “black excellence” in today’s society.
Moreover, the larger context complicates matters further. Here we have a black athlete, married to a tech entrepreneur, performing for a predominantly white audience, all while disregarding her own family’s tragic history. This portrayal of black empowerment seems less about uplifting a community and more about entertaining a spectacle. It simultaneously raises the question of who is truly benefiting from these performances—are they rooted in genuine pride, or are they merely tools for the entertainment industry to profit off the “black experience”?
Then there’s the question of sponsorship and support in the arts. Why does it seem that black artists need validation and financial backing from predominantly white corporations to express their creativity? This reliance raises eyebrows when juxtaposed against their proclamations of independence and empowerment. It suggests a troubling pattern where anti-white sentiment is voiced, all while profiting from the same institutions that are labeled oppressors.
As Americans observe these events unfold, the contradictions become glaringly apparent. The need for authenticity in activism has never been more pronounced, especially for public figures whose actions resonate far beyond the stage. To support one’s community means understanding the full weight of one’s choices and the messages they send. Engaging in cultural dances with ties to violence and loss could undermine the progress so many are striving for. The true challenge lies in elevating the community without losing sight of the real struggles that many face daily. Empowerment comes from understanding one’s history, not glossing over it for the sake of a moment in the spotlight.
