Boxed In: The LeBrons and Stereotypes as Authenticity

Boxed In: The LeBrons and Stereotypes as Authenticity

By David Leonard

The second installation of The LeBrons – “Stay on the Court” – begins just as the initial episode.  After the proverbial HP advertisement, LeBron James highlights this week’s moral lesson: “There is nothing more important than staying true to who you are.”    For The LeBrons being authentic and true means “to stay on the court.”

The show begins with Athlete LeBron driving kids and his friends to the local recreation center, where they play a little hoop before heading to the pool.  Athlete doesn’t stay with the boys because he has to “run some drills and get mine,” but before leaving imparts some knowledge to them: “remember practices makes perfect.”

Heading his advice, the boys remain on the court, until the sight of a young girl leads them off the court and over to the pool, where she happens to be along with many other scantily clad females, whose bodies become a point of emphasis for the gaze of the show.

The rest of the episode revolves around Kid trying to get the attention of Li, the young women who drew the attention of all three boys.  Kid, however, has the skills and the mentors to help him.  He seeks the advice of both Wise and Biz, who are both depicted as “ladies men.”  They are typical of “contemporary representations of black males” as “sex-crazed” (Jackson 2006, p. 81).  Wise fawns after the younger women at the pool, chasing after them like a lecherous dirty old man as he announces “all these young girls showing skin.”  Countless girls, who are mesmerized by his charisma, coolness, and sexuality, on the other hand chase Biz. 

Unconvinced by Wise’s playbook for winning over the ladies, Kid seeks out the advice Biz.  He encourages him to impress her with his courage by jumping off a high dive.  His plan almost works to perfection only to be pushed aside by a fat hairy man named Yogi giving him “lip to mouth resuscitation.” Resulting in the following exchange between Athlete and Kid

Athlete: How as your first kiss?

Kid: Bluck.  Come on, athlete, you know that doesn’t count.  I made a fool of myself.  I shouldn’t have listened to Biz

Athlete: He wants the best for you.  Maybe you should have listened to Wise.

Kid: Right!  If I’d listen to him, I’d be married with three kids by now

Athlete: Yo, stay on the court

Kid: You’re right; forget about girls.  No good at it.  I’m good at [as he raises up for a set-hot jumper] this

Athlete: Stay on the court, kid

Kid: I got it, athlete; geez

Athlete: Do you?

As he walks away Li walks toward Kid, telling him, “That was a nice shot.  You’re a lot better at basketball than you are at diving.  How about little 1 on 1?

Li, like Kid, is a baller, showing her skills as she blows right by him to the basket.  Importantly, this final exchange reiterates the shows moral lesson about being true to one self and not trying to front.  His decision to “keep it real” and “to stay on the court” is why he ultimately gets the girl.  The message is powerful because the narrative constructs an authentic black identity through athleticism and sports participation. To keep it real is to stay on the court.  His manhood is tied to his game – on the court and with the ladies, which are imagined as mutually reinforcing.  In other words, his success results from his staying true to his identity not as diver but as basketball player.

As with the first episode, The LeBrons once again explores the notion of authenticity and “keeping it real,” erasing the complexity and “messiness” of identity. “I do think there’s something about ‘keeping it real’ that is about almost flirting with disaster in a certain kind of way. It’s about a sort of boldness and a fearlessness that says, ‘I’m gonna,’ in a sense, ‘do me,’” notes John L. Jackson. “I think ‘keeping it real’ is about saying, ‘I’m gonna do what I need to do regardless of how the chips might fall.’ I think the irony, of course, is often ‘keeping it real’ becomes reduced to little more than reproducing the most clichéd stereotypes of blackness, so you’re demanding a sense of individualized autonomy, but you’re performing it in these very stereotypical ways, in ways that are supposed to mesh with these prefabricated categories of black possibility.” Jackson points to the ways in which hegemonic representations of blackness, as evident here, confine identity to athletic performances. “The extent to which Americans use race as a proxy for athlete ability cannot be overstated,” writes Reuben May, in Living through the Hoop. “Many individuals view black athletes as superior to other athletes. . . .  The overrepresentation of blacks in sports . . . reinforces the notion of black males as ‘natural’ athletes” (p. 81).   Worse, by focusing on being “true to self” and “staying on the court” The LeBrons further restricts what constitutes an authentic black identity.  These narratives scripts are significant given the fact that almost seventy percent of black teenagers see sports as their path to success.  The LeBrons embodies a racial project that, according to Thabiti Lewis, defines black masculinity “by athletic or physical prowess” (p. 7).

While focusing on “staying on the court” as it relates to “keeping it real,” the show also teaches viewers endless stereotypes.  Eric, Kid’s friend, is one of the show’s few white characters.  Not surprisingly, he is described as a “boy genius,” with his success on the court attributed to his math and science skills (“the hypotenuse is equal to the distance between the net and the ball”). Eric is able to excel because he stays true to himself – as a stereotypical white nerd, which serves him well as he is able to use principles of geometry and physics to swish a 100+ foot shot (albeit straight up in the air).  Whereas Kid is successful because of his skills and talents as a baller (black identity), Eric is buckets because of his whiteness.  Eric, however, is not the only stereotype.

Li, “an exchange student from China,” who interestingly doesn’t have an accent, has “brains coming of her ears.”  She is a stereotypical exotic temptress in a skimpy bikini, described by one of the boys as a “Shorty” who “got it good.” The shows gaze and its slow-motion affects that look her up to down emphasize her body.  She is a hot “anime character only she is not a cartoon.”  In this regard, she is the embodiment of dominant representations of the hypersexual Asian women.  While commenting about Lucy Liu and the ways in which her character (Ling) on Alley McBeal recapitulated longstanding stereotypes of Asian women, Darrell Y. Hamamoto, an associate professor in Asian-American Studies from University of California Davis, described her as “a neo-Orientalist masturbatory fantasy figure concocted by a white man whose job it is to satisfy the blocked needs of other white men. . .” (1994, p. 74).   Present within popular culture, pornography, the sex industry, mail-order brides, and sex tourism, hegemonic white racial framing reduces Asian women to exotic sexual bodies ready and willing to serve the sexual fantasies and needs of powerful, virile, western (white) men (Macabasco 2005).  Commenting on beauty norms, and the ways in which discourses of diversity and colorblindness erase the consequences and significance of race within our post-civil rights movement, Carrie Smith further elucidates the impact of the hyper visible Asian temptress:

There is also something troubling about the way that people of color are often labeled as “exotic” and categorized separately from Whites – whether it be in lists of the world’s most beautiful people or in pornography. The effect of this segregation is that we now have different norms of beauty that are “racialized.” People can now pick and choose which racialized norm of beauty most tantalizes them and fulfills their desires.

The representational confinement for Li is representative of the very limited/limiting depictions – scripts – within The LeBrons.  “Scripting, like stereotyping, often has deleterious effects.  Imagine the child has internalized assumptions about his or her existence and has begin to formulate a sense of self by retaliating against misguided projections,” writes Ronald Jackson in Scripting the Masculine Body.  “The child is already contemplating achievement possibilities.  Now, consider how empowered that child will be if he or she can come to understand the possibilities are limitless, the range of potential is without boundaries.  Unfortunately with its scripts, and its narrative focus on authentic identities, limits those possibilities” (p. 100).

The LeBrons, especially as a self-defined pedagogical – message – show, offers powerful lessons about identity and authenticity.  In defining blackness through athleticism and athletic/sexual prowess (and Asian femininity through exotic femininity), the show reifies dominant white racial frames.  It boxes in black (and Asian) identity defining success through simply staying on the court. 

David J. Leonard is an associate professor in the Department of Comparative Ethnic Studies at Washington State University at Pullman. His next book (SUNY Press) is on the NBA after the November 2004 brawl during a Pacers-Pistons game at the The Palace of Auburn Hills He has written on sport, video games, film, and social movements, appearing in both popular and academic mediums.