Criticism of LSU's Angel Reese after NCAA women's title game dripping in racism, sexism

There were so many worthy storylines coming out of a banner NCAA women’s basketball championship on Sunday. So many reasons to celebrate the evolution of women’s sports.

Louisiana State University won its first national championship.

The Tigers’ 102-85 victory over Iowa was the highest scoring final ever.

Kim Mulkey won in her second year at LSU, becoming the first coach in women’s NCAA history to win it all with two different schools. (She won three titles at Baylor.)

LSU managed to take home the championship with nine new players on the roster.

Iowa’s Caitlin Clark set the individual record for the highest-scoring tournament of all-time (men’s or women’s). Her 191 points in six games put her past Sheryl Swoopes.

And the MVP of the tournament, LSU sophomore Angel Reese, went off.

Reese is a 20-year-old, six-foot-three forward who transferred from Maryland and went for 15 points, 10 rebounds and five assists despite battling foul trouble, setting a D-1 record in the process with her 34^th double-double of the season.

But all of those worthy storylines were immediately overshadowed, and Reese, the self-proclaimed “Bayou Barbie”, ended up trending for a different reason.

In the closing moments of the game, with LSU up comfortably and victory all-but-assured, Reese talked some trash to Clark, making John Cena’s “you can’t see me” hand gesture in the Iowa star’s direction and pointing to her ring finger to symbolize the championship she and her team had just earned.

Many online immediately began tearing Reese down. Watching it all play out, I went from highly entertained to highly annoyed pretty quick because so much of the reaction was dripping with racism and sexism.

Sadly, race had been a factor in the proceedings well before the final buzzer. The mostly white Iowa roster and mostly Black LSU roster turned the title game into a bit of a culture clash, and there were reports of racist taunts in the arena from Iowa supporters towards LSU players.

The judgement directed at Reese during her time to shine was a continuation of that bigotry, and it isn’t unique to her. It speaks to the high-wire act Black women are asked to navigate in all settings in modern life. If they’re quiet, they aren’t engaged. If they’re excited, they’re unprofessional and ratchet. If they lead with force or assertiveness, they’re the “angry Black woman.”

The term misogynoir describes the unique nexus of racism and sexism Black women experience. “Misogynoir provides a racialized nuance that mainstream feminism wasn’t catching,” Feminista Jones told the Guardian back in 2015. “We are talking about misogyny, yes, but there is a specific misogyny that is aimed at Black women and is uniquely detrimental to Black women.”

Black women everyday are faced with the impossible task of showing up as their authentic selves while having to please other people’s standards at the same time.

Anecdotally many of those expressing outrage with Reese online were men. Besides the issue of a bunch of men telling women how to act, these detractors were telling on themselves: If find Reese’s taunts so “classless” and uncalled for, they obviously haven’t watched women’s college basketball or LSU all year — or Caitlin Clark all tournament, for that matter.

Earlier this season Clark ran out of the arena after a game winner. In the Elite Eight, she not only flashed the “you can’t see me” gesture to Hailey Van Lith, she also told her to shut up. And in the Final Four, she disrespectfully waved off South Carolina’s Raven Johnson while deciding not to guard her.

Everybody loved this behaviour when it was coming from Clark, so where’s the same energy when she has to take it in addition to dishing it out?

The criticism of Reese wasn’t just racist, either, it was also sexist.

Stephen Curry not only pointed to his ring finger to punctuate his most recent championship he made the “night-night” celebration a trend in sports around the world.  When LSU won a football title in 2019, Joe Burrow was smoking cigars on the field and Odell Beckham was handing out cash handshakes. Nobody was up in arms about winning with class on any of those occasions.

People are asking Reese to be modest at the height of her achievement. Why? Female athletes work just as hard, so they should be able to turn up just as much.

This is who Reese is and always has been, whether Clark was in her vicinity or not. Why should she dim that light? I‘m glad Reese felt no type of way about letting her Black girl magic shine. Reese was sending a message to more than just Clark.

"All year I was critiqued about who I was. ... I don't fit the narrative. I don't fit in a box that y'all want me to be in. I'm too hood. I'm too ghetto. Y'all told me that all year. But when other people do it, y'all say nothing," Reese proclaimed postgame. "So, this was for the girls that look like me, that's going to speak up on what they believe in. It's unapologetically you. That's what I did it for tonight.”

South Carolina head coach Dawn Staley understands the coded language as her team was vilified for their brand of basketball all year despite their excellence. In her mind, the reason for that framing is that, like LSU, her team is predominantly and unapologetically Black.

Let’s be honest: sports is entertainment. All sports need some flavour. We know about Clark and Reese because they’re box office, their production matches their passion. We haven’t had this type of star power on the men’s side of the tournament since Zion Williamson and RJ Barrett.

Tickets for the women’s championship were more expensive than both the men’s final and last weekend’s Taylor Swift concert in large part because of the personality of players like Clark and Reese. Reese’s social media following has increased almost 20 per cent since the tournament started. Her swag isn’t just good for her, it’s good for the sport.

Gender equity isn’t just about equal resources and coverage. It’s about understanding the need for nuanced coverage, so as to not put people in a box.

The NCAA tournament was a lesson in how far women’s sports has come and how far we all still have to go.

There are many conversations we need to have about female athletics. An elite athlete in her 20s talking trash is certainly not one of them. It sure wasn’t when Caitlin Clark did it, so don’t make it more than elite competition when it’s Angel Reese cutting down the nets.