Black Knight
Each time Lewis Hamilton is pulled apart I piece him back together. I do it to feed my fantasy of casually handing him a Tupperwear of vegan cookies at a house party. I also do it for my kids.
In 2021 a washed-up racist from Brazil called F1’s only Black driver a word he thinks the rest of us aren’t savvy enough to google. It appears he was poorly briefed on the enduring sting of online receipts. He was also banned from the F1 Paddock indefinitely, which likely prompted his response:
“What I said was ill-thought-out and I make no defence for it, but I will clarify that the term used is one that has widely and historically been used in Brazilian Portuguese as a synonym for ‘guy’ or ‘person’ and was never intended to offend. I would never use the word I have been accused of in some translations. I strongly condemn any suggestion that the word was used by me with the aim of belittling a driver because of his skin colour.”
Ah, the old translation shuffle. The trouble for the washed-up racist is that he clearly intended to offend. He also did so from the comfort of a society founded on the brutal treatment of Black and Indigenous folks, making his case both pathetic and dangerous. As I watched the bland tennis match of official statements from institutional bodies play out, I thought of a young Lewis imagining his life at 37. There’s a clip I like to revisit of the 12-year-old rising star talking about how he handles racist abuse in racing. With his luminous eyes focused off-camera he explains that while racism hurts, he uses his skills on the track to fight back. I wonder what it would have been like for that kid to race circles around his peers because he could, not because he had to fight. The video cuts to his father making a case for Lewis’s identity as an asset. Whenever I watch the clip I’m struck by the mental gymnastics it must have taken for the journalists and editors to jump from a child sharing his ongoing experience of racism to the possibility of that pain being a performance enhancer. The adults in my life jumped through similar hoops when I was a child. Once, while accompanying me to test into an elite private school in Durban, my father was reminded by the faculty that only high-achieving students were accepted. It was South Africa in 1992 and she was certain my Black skin meant that we were all wasting our time. I was so angry, I told you to do your best on that test. I got in and spent years fighting back on the track. At 37, I’m still driving.
Lewis gives me a case study to support the lonely project of instilling pride in my children. A Black racing champion who is also a knight? Too easy. The other day, in response to my 3-year-old saying she is brown, not Black my 6-year-old responded, you are whatever colour your mom is and mom is Black so we’re Black. Kids: they’ll twist your words. I always tell them Black is more than a colour. Black is a family and we have knights among us. Lewis Hamilton is a real-life knight! For one, he can drive a getaway car quick. He jousts. He’s distant and mysterious. He wears a nosering. His eyes are a way out, his grin is a way in. He wears magenta and alternates between twists and braids. He circles the room and makes old people blush. When he rides, he rides alone.