In search of the race card: what did Kobe Bryant's case reveal about the racializing of sexual violence?

Having paid too much money to watch my favorite team lose by too many points, I walked dejectedly to my $20 parking space. It was after a recent Lakers' game in Los Angeles, and I passed several vendors selling everything from hot dogs to beanies. What struck me on this day, however, was something new for sale. Two African American men in their early 20s stood at the corner, selling t-shirts printed with: "First O.J. and Now Kobe." Chanting these words, the salesmen told all who passed that black men should stay away from white women. While nobody bought the t-shirts, several fans (mostly black and Latino men) laughed out loud when they saw the message, while several others (mostly white women) appeared noticeably bothered by both the t-shirts and the performance of the black salesmen. In this brief moment, the racial and gendered nature of the Kobe Bryant case penetrated the surface.

[ILLUSTRATION OMITTED]

Like the O.J. Simpson case nine years before, the Kobe case has brought back memories of the race card. Given the widespread belief in colorblindness within contemporary America, the race card refers to those efforts to add race into a supposedly race-neutral situation. Even before charges were dropped on Sept. 1, the trial of L.A.'s star basketball player for allegedly raping a 19-year-old Colorado woman had generated a hotbed of racialized reaction. Kobe's defenders were accused of throwing down the race card, while media outlets like the New York Times asserted that in this case, "celebrity trumped race."

I used to wonder what the actual race card looked like. Was it a playing card, or a sports collectible card? I began to think of the race card as a real collector's item and one that I was determined to possess. Given the number of references to this ubiquitous yet elusive object, I figured its addition to my collection of trading cards and sports memorabilia would be a valuable acquisition.

I headed straight for eBay. Sadly, typing r-a-c-c c-a-r-d did not bring forth any available items. Still amazed that something mentioned so often was not even available on eBay, I scouted about on Google. Yet again, typing "race card" into the search field did not lead me to any thing of substance. I continued to search, this time typing "race, Kobe, white supremacy" in hopes that the race card might be found on the numerous white supremacist sites talking about Kobe. Yes, now I was getting somewhere.

The responses of white supremacists to the allegations against Kobe Bryant were unsettling, but not surprising. White supremacists have not been shy about deploying the longstanding rhetoric of black male sexuality threatening white female purity. As I searched through numerous white supremacist websites, I found racist images, rhetoric and appeals to stereotypical ideas of black male sexuality and criminality; so close, but still no race card.

I knew when I reached newnation.org, a site dedicated to "minority and migrant crime," that my chances were getting better. With "statistics" on black men raping white women and anecdotes about the alleged criminal activities of black athletes, this site identifies the Kobe Bryant situation as a "hate crime" because Bryant allegedly called the victim a "white bitch." Could this site be a source for a race card? Rather than statistics on the back, this race card might include a brief list of black men, named and unnamed, throughout history that have been accused of rape. Better yet, I pictured a card of skinheads holding anti-Kobe banners, with the names of black athletes accused of crimes. As I continued my search, I discovered numerous online chats and reports on the subject along the way, but I saw no signs of the race card.

Unsatisfied with my failed attempts to find the race, and convinced that racist chatrooms and leaflets all over Eagle County calling on whites to avoid sex with blacks were not what I was looking for, I figured it was time to examine the popular media.

Since the allegations against Kobe Bryant became public, members of the media have dedicated numerous hours to the case. I began to notice a trend that I thought might lead me towards my ultimate discovery: the common description of Kobe as articulate, good-looking, a family-guy, soft-spoken, kind, generous and most importantly "different" raised my suspicions. J.A. Adande, a columnist for the Los Angeles Times, remarked how confident he had been about never seeing Kobe's name "on the police blotter." David Aldridge, of ESPN.com, wrote about his "mistaking Kobe's identity." Commentators wrote of "shock," "surprise," and how Kobe Bryant was the last person they expected to be standing trial for rape. I began to wonder how was Kobe "different"? And who is he different from? Is he different from other athletes, black athletes, or all African American men in general?

But other sports commentators like Jeff Benedict, Chris Sheridan and Rob Fernas all spoke without shock, citing, like the white nationalists, the track record of the (black) NBA. While blurring the lines between arrests and convictions, a task difficult given the racism of the American criminal justice system, these commentators positioned Kobe's arrest as yet another example of an epidemic of criminal activity within professional sports. Blaming "ghetto culture," hip-hop and gangster identities, each author solidifies racialized arguments as the explanation for the wave of crimes committed by (black) athletes. Despite Kobe Bryant's Italian/suburban upbringing and his disconnect from hip-hop, the media uses him to prove that you can take the professional athlete out of the ghetto, but you can't take the ghetto (criminal) out of the professional athlete.

This media reaction rests upon stereotypes of athletes as greedy, arrogant and rude; of black men as sex-crazed and violent; and of all black men as criminals. It reveals the societal practice of locating social problems in the bodies of black men.

Black Athletes and Sexual Violence

In the absence of "systematic research" or data linking sexual violence and athletes, media commentators, white feminists and psychologists have taken to the airwaves to castigate Kobe Bryant as part of a larger trend within sports, reducing the problem of sexual violence to a single social institution. Kathy Redmond, founder of the National Coalition against Violent Athletes, announced on ESPN that "athlete violence was a serious problem." Ignoring the problem of sexual violence in America's boardrooms, churches, homes, and military bases (the organization is pro-military), NCAVA finds safety and solace attacking sexual violence through the (black) world of sports.

On ESPN, and in newspaper articles, Redmond used the accusations against Kobe Bryant as a platform to engage the horrors of sexual violence. Citing a lack of accountability and a culture of entitlement, Redmond says. "They think they can get away with it. There's nobody to stop them. It's a totally different world than what you and I experience." Cynthia Stone, spokeswoman for the Colorado Coalition Against Sexual Assault, ignoring the presence and consequence of race within criminal trials, concludes that the system works to the benefit of Bryant. "This case unfortunately has been the poster child for the very worst that we can treat a woman and a victim of sexual assault," said Stone. "She has been the one who has been put on trial in the court of public opinion."

Yet, other organizations fighting sexual violence have taken a different view. Several have cited the media's role and the role of racism in making this case the banner one for a fight against sexual violence. Esta Soler, president of Family Violence Prevention Fund, argues that the media spectacle surrounding the Bryant trial and the wave of reports on athletes accused of crimes have systematically linked professional sports (or black athletes) to violence in the minds of some Americans. In a string of articles related to the Bryant trial, USA Today identified 168 allegations of sexual assault involving 164 athletes and former athletes, many of whom were black, over the past 12 years. The report found that only 22 of the cases went to trial, with only six cases resulting in a conviction. Redmond and Stone see this phenomenon as a result of the celebrity of athletes who avoid convictions with the help of high-priced lawyers. Soler sees otherwise, identifying the media's role in overstating the problem of sexual violence and athletes. "Because professional athletes are so much in the public eye, if they do commit violence against women, the media tends to report it," says Soler. "But, as public figures, athletes are in a unique position to take a stand against violence against women. And many are doing just that. We commend the professional athletes who are helping to raise awareness about abuse and doing their part to end violence against women."

Other anti-racist advocates and feminists of color see the problem as less to do with the media, but rather a reflection of racism in addressing sexual violence through black male bodies. In America, as argued by Frantz Fanon, "rape" means "black" within the white imagination, demonstrating the many ways in which race matters in the Kobe Bryant case. There is "always the hope that this kind of defendant, because of who he is, would transcend race," argues Lisa Wayne, a Colorado lawyer and one of two blacks on the Board of the National Association of Criminal Defense Lawyers. "But I have to tell you that when it comes to allegations of sexual assault involving a black man and a white woman, there's often a deep bias that is so ingrained with jurors that they don't even recognize it. Since 1940, 405 of 453 men executed for rape have been black, all of whom were sentenced to death for raping white women."

Despite allegations that athletes are guilty of violence and mistreatment of women at a higher rate, statistics undermine claims of an epidemic within the world of sports. Athletes commit roughly two sexual assaults per week; since 1998, an average of one hundred cases have been reported per year involving basketball and football players accused of battery or sexual violence. While a sign of a problem, the sports world is not unique in this regard.

A rape occurs every 18 seconds in the United States. An estimated three percent of American men are guilty of battery. American men batter more than 8,200 women and rape over 2,345 women per day. In a single year, America sees three million cases of battery and over one million incidents of rape. Given these startling numbers, it should be clear that violence against women takes place outside of the sports arena with great regularity.

Even with the hundred arrests per year involving athletes and numerous other rapes that go unreported (an estimated ratio of 10 incidents for every one reported), it is clear that athletes who commit sexual crimes account for a mere fraction of the millions of violent crimes committed against women. The public discourse that plays on racialized ideas, as evident with the reaction of the media, white nationalist communities and various feminist organizations to the Kobe Bryant case, overlooks the stubborn facts of sexual violence. Kobe Bryant is not a sign of a problem within sports, but potentially a symptom of a larger problem of sexual violence, patriarchy and misogyny. We do not need any more racist cards that blame black men for rape.

The discussion of criminality among athletes as an epidemic further reflects racism in the media. In almost every report about the upcoming trial, experts continuously compared Kobe to Mike Tyson and O.J. I started to imagine a race card that pictured these three black men clustered together, including a comparison of their criminal charges and convictions on the back. A special historical version of the card might cluster Kobe with Silas Lynch or Bigger Thomas. Indeed, the media seems to be displaying such race cards with every story. Perhaps this race card series could be expanded to include cards of William Kennedy Smith or any number of naval officers, priests, what-have-you--all of whom scored the comparable accusations of sexual violence.

Why limit the special edition there? How about a card comparing how whites and blacks view the Kobe Bryant case, revealing that half of whites think Kobe is innocent compared to 70 percent of blacks. Another card could be dedicated to the demographics of Eagle County, which is almost 90 percent white, and less than .02 percent black. This special edition set would need a card for the overwhelming white jury destined to hear the Kobe Bryant case. The back of this card might contain statistics from the Capital Jury Project, which concluded that white jurors are far more likely to believe the police and white witnesses over black defendants and witnesses.

Or, maybe there should be a special edition card picturing Mark Hurlbert, members of the district attorney's office and Eagle County Sheriffs all wearing shirts they bought from a website as mementos that showed a hanging man on the front, with the number 8 (Kobe's number) on the back along with the words: "I'm not a rapist; I'm just a cheater." The back could contain details on the sexual violence cases Hurlbert has chosen not to prosecute at the last minute, including the case against Bryant, or his statements reacting to questions about the t-shirts: "The shirts may be inappropriate, but they are certainly not racist."

Finally, any set of race cards would be incomplete without a card for the Eagle County Sheriff's Department. The front of the card might picture the overwhelmingly white force, with the back spelling out its racial history, including accusations of racial profiling, orders to stop all black or Latino drivers with California licenses, and of course the $800,000 settlement against the department for racial discrimination.

While I was unable to find an actual race card, an object that I could place next to my Shaq bobblehead, my search proved how much race matters within the Kobe Bryant trial. It matters in that white supremacists have taken advantage of the case to organize and to publicly voice longstanding white fears of black sexuality. Race matters in the way the media has compared Kobe to other black athletes accused of crimes, and how columnists have sensationalized their shock. Race matters with the efforts to blame black men for the widespread problem of sexual violence.

Efforts to give visibility to the problem of rape cannot be done through racist frameworks, just as our efforts to show the relevance of race should not be done through patriarchal means. I hope that discussions around Kobe Bryant transcend either/or binaries, in which race and gender are polarized as conflicting social variables, especially given the lack of interest from the state in protecting women and people of color.

The race card is played every day, in virtually every setting, just not in the way we are told it is deployed.

David Leonard is a professor of comparative ethnic studies at Washington State University.