What the media missed on Simone Biles
The cost of ignoring toxic workplaces | 7-min read
It’s now been a few weeks since the “I quit” heard ‘round the world, and though Simone Biles did end up jumping back on the balance beam, there is still so much to glean from the story (and from how it’s been covered).
So far, the internet has done a fantastic job of focusing on Simone, the person, but has missed another story – one that is bigger and more relevant to the broader world. For me, Simone’s Olympics opt-out is far from a one-off; instead, it’s one in a string of events that expose a broken and very problematic environment (or, as we like to call it here, a workplace).
Breaking bodies, beaten minds
We have mounting evidence that the arena of elite athletics has gotten dangerous and downright harmful for its participants, especially for those who depend on it for a living.
Physically, athletes are pushing past their limits, competing on broken limbs and tired bodies to stay relevant (and employed). Most professional athletes are forced to retire by 30, their bodies beaten and often injured beyond repair. With such a small window of opportunity, it’s no surprise that doping scandals have multiplied across sports and countries as athletes seek to summon superhuman strength from their bodies. Yet, we continue to treat each case as an isolated incident of one or more “bad apples” rather than as a sign that the expectations have perhaps gone too far. Tragic is the case of American football, where at least 90% of NFL players leave the field with brain damage; yet college and professional associations have done nothing, and youth leagues play on.
Psychologically, the toll of elite sports has been trickling forth through the voice of athletes brave enough to face the stigma and take their stories public. Simone Biles was one of them, citing her own mental health challenges as a reason for stepping back. Naomi Osaka, Michael Phelps, Serena Williams, Dwayne Johnson (The Rock) and countless others have done the same. One recent study found that as many as 1 in 6 professional athletes report having suicidal thoughts – a level far above the general population; so why do we continue to treat each case as individual afflictions rather than an occupational hazard? As one sports psychologist told NPR:
“…there's really very little that's healthy about [elite performance]. And so mental health in an elite performance context is actually oftentimes about managing the ability to function in an elite performance setting, recognizing that it's inherently unhealthy.”
I think about how often many of us non-Olympians sacrifice health to “function” in our own work settings. I think about the Adderall my friends took in college to get through exams, later supplemented by harder drugs, cold brew and alcohol to stay afloat. We, too, are losing sleep and pushing past our limits, doping up to soldier on and survive what feels like increasingly untenable expectations.
Let’s talk about gender
Alongside the physical and mental strain of professional sports, gender discrimination and wage gaps run deep. One hour of ESPN is enough to note that the coverage, salaries, and sponsorships pouring into men’s athletics are significantly higher than women’s. Just look at the chart below.
Average Player Compensation per Sport (2019)
Data compiled by Adelphi University and sourced from CareerTrend, ESPN, Global Sports Salaries, NWSLSoccer.com and Tennis.com
The big wigs of sport (both athletic associations and big brand sponsors) have proven unprepared to address questions of gender equity. Several prominent female athletes have exposed the problematic nature of sponsorship contracts from names like Nike that virtually ban pregnancy. The current and heated debates over the rights of female handball players to wear shorts and transgender Olympians to compete are also telling of how attached professional athletics is to outdated expectations of women’s bodies.
And tragically, for Simone Biles and so many of her US gymnastics teammates exposed to persistent sexual assault, the workplace was not only unfair, but unsafe.
One of the most shocking stats I encountered this week came from the Institute for Women’s Policy Research, that estimates 8 in 10 women will experience some form of sexual harassment at work.
And I need not remind you that the issues of unequal pay, maternity and paternity leave, and sexual misconduct extend well beyond the Olympic village. As the sole female (and the youngest human) on a team of 30 men, I knew the burden of being the only woman on the zoom, working longer hours to prove my worth under a blinding spotlight. In these environments, where women are undervalued, underpaid, and under-represented, the pressure to perform pushes us even further past physical and psychological safe zones.
Let’s talk about race
Alongside (and in Biles’ case, on top of) gender issues, racial discrimination remains deeply entrenched in professional sports. Let’s take what Isabel Wilkerson, author of Caste and The Warmth of Other Suns, calls “occupational hierarchy”: In the NBA, people of color represent 83% of players but only 30% of coaches; in the NFL, 74% of players are people of color vs. 13% of coaches. In the tiers above, team managers, owners, athletics committees, and sports brand executives are all similarly, overwhelmingly white and male.
For Wilkerson, this pattern of racial division at work is a strategy used within caste systems to keep certain groups subjugated. As critics voiced rage over Simone Biles’ decision, Wilkerson pointed to parallels during slavery, when “the only job beyond the plow or the kitchen that the caste system openly encouraged…was that of entertainment” and “should they not conform as expected, they often faced punishment and scrutiny”. She continues:
“Her act of agency, as with Kaepernick, Osaka and so many others, breached a caste system that still values people more for the roles that they play rather than the individuals that they are.”
Harry Edwards, a scholar of race issues in sports, explains that many athletic associations have sought to avoid question of race in sport; using the argument that sports isn’t “political”, the IOC has long banned protests, which Edwards argues is a way to keep race out of the spotlight.
Last summer, I watched as Fortune 500 companies rushed to appoint Chief Diversity Officers in a bid to address the issues raised by the Black Lives Matter movement. In my overwhelmingly white and male workplace, I saw virtually no people of color in the executive suite or in senior or middle management. In my office in Washington, DC, the only Hispanics I ever encountered were the team of cleaners who arrived at 7pm, when most of my colleagues had left for the day. The occupational hierarchy was real, and for me, painful. Most of our American workplaces, like Simone Biles’, remain stuck in deeply entrenched and, unfortunately racial hierarchies.
In this context, several prominent voices have likened Simone Biles’ “I quit” to the choice that millions of Black Americans made during the Great Migration; over that period, more than 6 million people said “no more” to the Jim Crow South and traveled by car, bus, train, and foot to a more tolerant (yet still troubled) North. Depriving the southern states of their cheap (and exploited) labor pool, this mass departure played a huge role in transforming the economy and civil rights of the entire country. In this case, saying “no” was a powerful catalyst for change.*
What does this have to do with work?
We can choose to view Simone Biles’ as the story of a woman unable to deal with the pressures of intense competition and physical demands; or, instead, we can choose to view it as yet another individual standing up and demanding change from a system that has its own work to do.
Keeping our focus on Simone Biles (or Naomi Osaka or Colin Kaepernick or the handball team or any of their peers) distracts us from the underlying issues that have been driving breakdown, burnout and abuse across their industry. And maybe, just maybe, it keeps us from recognizing the same patterns within our own workplaces.
For the Curious…
*Isabel Wilkerson’s The Warmth of Other Suns is an incredible book for anyone interested in understanding the Great Migration – a pivotal part of American history that is often poorly (if at all) covered in school.
I also highly recommend following the wisdom and writing of Tricia Hersey, the Nap Minister, whose work reframes rest as a powerful form of personal and collective resistance.
