Removing the fine print to mental, physical and emotional health has a long way to go.
If you ever stumbled across your favorite athlete's social media page and suggested them to "rise above the haters," "get over it," told them to stick to sports or inserted your Kanye style ad lib over their vulnerable moments, you probably did a stellar job at gaslighting them. Before you jump into defense mode, I hope we can all look in the mirror and admit that all of us have done this to someone in our everyday lives. A lot of people were unknowingly groomed and conditioned to believe in this form of support thanks to passing down generational trauma via survival mode or being influenced from mainstream media controlling the narrative of what's deemed professional and appropriate.
In a world where people urge others to be transparent and vulnerable, we don't do a great job making space for anyone to do it - this is heavily witnessed in the fitness and wellness space, particularly with Black athletes. And to Addison, Archibald and the rest of the crew, let's knock this out before we go any further: Keep your "all lives matter" dialogue to yourself about mental health in sports. I'm intentionally focusing on the obtuse levels of disrespect and lack of empathy projected towards Black athletes in sports. Whenever we speak up about our mental health, set boundaries or merely exist in our own bodies, we are ridiculed and demanded to be quiet. I don't need a lot of words or examples to prove that a lot of policing on Black athletes in sports is rooted in White supremacy, male fragility and all of the trigger words that makes Twitter feeds run on Dunkin Donuts coffee.
Addressing the pink elephant in the room requires for me to admit that I've abandoned new entries on Running Fat Chef since May 2020 and it was not about a lighthearted adventure in the outdoors. I spoke about racial inequality, being profiled while on the run, allyship and a deep dive exploration on what happens when everyone forgets Black struggle until it's convenient. Alas, we've approached the cusp of Black History Month -- a mere 28 or sometimes 29 days where people botch up Martin Luther King, Jr. quotes to make themselves appear woke AF while not paying homage to Black people's stolen AAVE - African American Vernacular English - that White people once weaponized as Ebonics. But here's one for you: If you don't know me nor earned me in my everyday life, let's start with not calling me "sis." And before you start celebrating living Black athletes on your next "list of inspiring Black athletes to follow" or reminding me that today is Ted Corbitt's birthday then demanding me to make a performative post on social media like your imagination expect me to do, I'd rather stay true to myself by flexing some viewpoints that I've vocalized but refrained from writing on here for damn near eight months.
In a perfect world, we would all be viewed as one race -- but we're far from perfect. Discussing race politics and safety, especially in fitness, is long overdue.
Becoming a traveling athlete changed my entire perspective of the world. I am still learning new things on this journey. I transformed from a person exploring ways to get my health back in order to becoming an accidental activist by sharing some of my experiences as an endurance runner. In a matter of a year, I learned the fundamentals on how to run, breathe, open up my stride and all of the technical bells and whistles. Thoroughly engulfed myself into the sport so much that I pushed past my fear of flying and traveled to other states; sometimes I left the country for the love of new adventures and food. Most times I navigate the world solo. This act is looked at as admirable, brave and inspiring; truthfully I am always excited, nervous and cautious. Close friends and family express their fears to me on a regular basis; I tend to brush it off but it's not because I don't hear them. I'm a strong believer that nervous and scary energy will attract scarier situations faster. Most people reduced down their rambles to "have fun", "bring back a key chain", "take pictures for me" and "be safe." People like my husband and my mother almost always let me know their fears, even when it's not verbally expressed. Perhaps you think I'm nervous about traveling solo as a woman -- sometimes but not that much these days. At times, our conversations delve into race, perceptions and other people's reactions to "fears." And like clockwork, I tend to pause, breathe and press forward but I never take these conversations lightly.
Latoya Shauntay Snell
For my pretentious ass bio, check out the about me page but for anyone interested in who I really am, make me a good meal at your house and I'll tell you a dope ass story.
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