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Ms. Cheyenne N. Chambers is an attorney with Tin, Fulton, Walker & Owen, PLLC. Before private practice, Chambers served as a law clerk to the Honorable Paul J. Watford of the U.S. Court of Appeals for the Ninth Circuit.
Years before I ever walked into a courthouse as a civil rights attorney in Charlotte, North Carolina, I spent a significant portion of my youth stepping onto tennis courts in the suburbs of Cleveland, Ohio. Each serve, baseline rally, and occasional volley furthered my understanding of perseverance. But I will never forget the ways in which racism also impacted how I learned this essential skill. When a white country club employee refused to accept my junior tournament entry fee in person, I was left with no other choice but to contact the director and submit a complaint, to secure a spot on the bracket. And during high school matches, when white coaches falsely accused me of cheating, and ordered their players to stand on the court and monitor my “questionable” line calls, I kept playing.
After spending this summer with unfavorable Fourth Amendment precedent in federal court, seeing more of my people die disproportionately at the hands of the State, and calming my anxiety every time a patrol car appeared in my rearview mirror, I recognized how important it was for me to remember that I have to keep persevering. Thanks to Naomi Osaka and her victorious run at this year’s U.S. Open Tennis Championships, I took mental refuge in a sport which helped advance this critical lesson earlier in my life.
There were noticeable differences at Flushing Meadows because of the coronavirus pandemic. The scheduling of the tournament as the second Grand Slam of the season. The absence of some well-known players from the draws. The empty stands during late-night, nail-biting matches. These necessary inconveniences were soon forgotten for me, as audiences were reintroduced to the importance of Black Lives over the course of seven matches, seven masks, and seven names—Breonna Taylor, Elijah McClain, Ahmaud Arbery, Trayvon Martin, George Floyd, Philando Castile, and Tamir Rice. In this moment, Osaka stood on the shoulders of Black athletes like Arthur Ashe who challenged Apartheid in South Africa and the Williams sisters who withdrew from a tournament in South Carolina because of a Confederate flag display. Like them, Osaka unapologetically refused to “shut up and dribble.” The most remarkable aspect of Osaka’s peaceful demonstrations, was that she used her international platform, one she created within a sport which still remains predominantly-white, to present the movement to certain parts of society who could not be reached by way of a lockout or a symbolic knee.
Osaka’s journey to her most recent major title was a historic one, but not easily traveled. She did not win every single point. In fact, after recovering from a hamstring injury in a previous tournament, a majority of Osaka’s matches at the Open went the distance, requiring a third set to secure victory. And round by round, Osaka overcame these obstacles while responding gracefully to numerous critics who suggested that she “keep politics out of sports.” Nevertheless, like Oscar Johnson, Ora Washington, and Althea Gibson, Osaka kept playing.
The level of perseverance shown by Osaka has not only inspired a new generation of Black children across the world to pick up a tennis racket. Her purposeful tenacity on court has encouraged so many civil rights attorneys, like me, to keep persevering in court. The sport which I love has taught me that I will not prevail on every single claim or motion. This is especially true as I continue to challenge the unjust applications of controversial doctrines and standards like qualified immunity or probable cause. A lengthy appellate process may also be required to obtain victories for some of my clients. But in order for me to do my part within the movement and help promote long-term, effective change, I must rely upon the revolutionary work completed by those before me. And in spite of the reemergence of familiar obstacles and dated criticisms, I have to keep playing—like Naomi, we have to keep playing.