Are We Free to Go?
Anti-Black Racism and Its
Impact on Black Play•Kisha McPherson

Drawing connections between anti-Black racism, surveillance, and the criminalization of Black bodies, and using an autoethnographic approach, theauthor discusses the effect of racism on Black play. She analyzes her personalencounters and the public accounts of others to illustrate how white supremacy uses scrutiny and its attendant actions by citizens and law enforcement todeny Black people the basic freedom of play. Key words: anti-Black racism;
Black play; racism and leisure; surveillance and play

Introduction

Some of the early theorizing about play makes necessary connections

between play and our need to release energy and express our natural physicalurges (Hendricks 2020). Although most theories vaguely define play, and there
is much debate among scholars about its “rhetorics” (Smith-Sutton 1997), what
seems most apparent about play is the variety of activities and expressions inwhich it can take shape (Burghardt 2012; Hendricks 2020; Wright 2018). Someof the general notions and understandings surrounding concepts of play and its
purpose in the lives of people remain consistent, because individuals commonly
use activities associated with play as a catalyst for engaging in pleasurable selfexpression (Wright 2018). The research about play also points to the numerous
social and physical benefits that individuals derive from engaging in the “innumerable variety” of play (Henricks 2020, 117). Highlighting this link between
human beings and the necessity for play in people’s lives, Dutch historian andclassic play scholar Johan Huizinga described play “as a primary mode of ourexistence” (Wright 2018, 3), suggesting that play (and playing) is a central partof the human experience.
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American Journal of Play, volume 13, numbers 2 and 3 © The Strong
Contact Kisha McPherson at kisha.mcpherson@ryerson.ca

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Considering these points, individuals—living freely—should have the ability and opportunity to decide first the type of activities, based on pleasure andself-expression, that fulfills their inherent need for play. And they need to beable to enjoy freely and openly legal activities used for that purpose. However,
the extent to which particular groups of people can openly engage in any playremains limited by and confined within the power structures and social orderof society that maintain anti-Black racism. Here, I associate play with activities
that provide such qualities as freedom and lead “to excitement, fun, and its mostsublime manifestation, joy” (Henricks 2020, 128). In the face of racist oppression, qualities that reflect elements of freedom and joy gained through play
are particularly important to Black people, and for the purpose of my analysis,
I extend classifications of what I consider play in numerous ways. Here, playis less about the scholarly definitions of play and more about the activities inwhich Black people actually engage to pursue the values and qualities that can bederived from play. This, in some of the situations I describe, includes activities
that can also be associated with leisure and recreation. The value of play and its
connection to human desires is central to my analysis. Some activities I outline
may not be traditionally seen as play but can be considered so for Black people,
based on values associated with those activities.
The actions and activities of Black people since the beginnings of colonialism in the West have been managed and monitored (Maynard 2017). Throughvarious historical and contemporary structures of control—from slavery to modern policing in Canada and the United States—the freedom for Black people
to participate in activities for the purpose of play are constantly surveilled andcriminalized. I outline an even broader concern related to Black people and play,which is that when Black people attempt to live their lives freely (by participating in play, for example), they create ideological tensions that provoke reactionsof racism and discrimination in those who believe Black people should not befree to play nor free to do what they want for their own pleasure and purposes.
Christina Sharpe’s (2016) In the Wake: On Blackness and Being documents
and discusses the violent circumstances that impact Black lives within the strangling confines of white supremacy. Sharpe weaves together histories of Black
experiences to illustrate how Black people live with the “ongoing problem ofBlack exclusion from social, political, and cultural belonging” (14). Normalized
exclusion and a permanent state of nonstatus precipitate a form of consciousness
around Blackness and being of which Black people are always aware. Western
society defaults to seeing Black bodies as unwelcome and unworthy participants

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in humanity (Sharpe 2016), and this can prevent Black people from open and freeaccess to such distinctly human values as play, freedom, and security. When weplace these values in the context of Black people’s normalized criminalization, it
seems no surprise that Black individuals’ access to play has been circumscribed.
Play, and its purpose and value in the lives of human beings, conflicts
with notions of Blackness and nonstatus, particularly in places with histories
of enslavement. For many Black people, participating in leisure, play, and recreational activities can result in not only social tension (Philipp 1995; Mowatt2018), but also violence and criminalization (Maynard 2017), unless of course,
the play functions as work by the Black body that society deems appropriate andnecessary, as in professional sports. The unfortunate reality with which mostBlack people must contend is that, in spite of the legal status of being free, we
remain limited by the vicious stronghold of anti-Black racism, upheld by social
institutions through the surveillance by—and actions of—white members ofsociety. This can turn simple activities like riding a bicycle in a city park or staying in an Airbnb rental into criminal offences for Black people.
I explore this connection between the surveilling and the policing of Black
people’s play and how it maintains Black people’s nonstatus, effectively denying
our value as human beings. To start, I will draw correlations between activities for play and leisure, particularly in Black people’s lives, to contextualize
the relevance of my analysis to play studies. Then, drawing on my personalencounters and on publicized reports, I describe events involving Black people
that underscore the impact of white supremacy on Black life in North America.
My goal here is to help expose the vicious and violent impact of anti-Black racism on Black people’s freedom and play from a Canadian perspective and toemphasize how white supremacy across North America is maintained throughnormalized surveillance and policing of Blackness. These are rooted in histories of oppression, which starts with watching, leads to suspecting, and ends inthe criminalization of Black bodies carried out by white citizens and enforced
through the power of social institutions.

Position of the Researcher
My choice of topic and methodology are bound up with my identity and experiences as a Black feminist, researcher, and scholar, living in a predominantly
white country. A child of Jamaican immigrants to Canada, I was born, raised,Are We Free to Go?

and have lived in Toronto for most of my life. Experiences of being Black andunder perpetual surveillance are by no means foreign to me. Although not fully
accounted for here, I have experienced far too many events and situations thatinfer the inherent criminality of my skin, making this examination and discussion of Blackness and its restrictions on play a personal one.

Methodology
Many Black feminist scholars (Crenshaw 1991; hooks 2000; Lorde 1984; McClaurin 2001) have recounted, examined, and validated their Black-lived experiences, and the experiences of other Black people, to position accounts of Black
life within scholarship. Here, I employ a similar technique, recounting my own
experiences and then, based on memory (Keightly 2009), I center the experiences of other Black people to provide further perspectives on the impact ofanti-Black racism on the everyday activities of Black people.
In using this method of grounding my experience with racism as a Canadian Black woman with the experiences of other Black people as detailed in the
media, I seek to carry on a tradition outlined by anthropologist Irma McClaurin(1999), who states: “The use of narrative has been central to the shaping of mylife and scholarship as a way of understanding the experiences of the African
diaspora, a place that is part memory and part geography, populated by thedescendants of enslaved Africans who were forced through the Middle Passage,
dispersed throughout the Americas, and who endured and continue to endure
patterns of economic and social stratification and exclusion as a consequenceof their ancestry and phenotype” (30–1).
Within this Black-feminist approach, I use my personal experiences tobegin to contextualize anti-Black racism and its impact on and limitation forBlack people and play. Then, through my own recollection of accounts of antiBlack racism, as experienced by other Canadians, I weave together examples toillustrate this position.
I selected the events and examples I summarize and discuss based on news
reports. Living in a white-dominated society, I have always been concerned about
issues connected to Black people, and I recollect many news reports and situations that demonstrate anti-Black racism against Canadians. Keightley (2010)
outlines memory as a method for research and investigation to establish a basis
for evidence and knowledge on the researcher’s own terms. Thus, I recall and

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reference the examples of anti-Black impediments to play in this article by evoking memory as “a lived process of making sense of time and the experience of it.”And, “this process of sensemaking has potential value for social research bothas an object and technique” (56).
In recounting my own personal experiences with anti-Black racism in thecontext of play, or activities deployed to achieve its values, I used to my advantage
the fact that evidence of criminalization of Black people’s activities are at times
documented, broadcasted, and, therefore, easy to retain. As Keightley points out,“the study of remembering is a crucial way of exploring the temporally inflected
relationships between personal life, social relationships, and public culture andhow these contribute to the construction of personal and collective identities”(66). In planning and organizing this analysis connecting the specific activities
Black people enjoy with play, I made an informal list of events of anti-Black racism that I recalled from previously reported news stories over the last five years.
Then, to add more context and understanding of the events, I completed a few
basic online searches with the names and locations of each situation to identify
reputable sources to gather more details about each of the accounts. I selected
the examples based on what I could recall from the description of incidents andtheir racial specificity. Examining the examples used in the article and connecting them to circumstances and realities of Black lives, I attempt to include thesetypes of racially relevant activities, engaged in by Black people, within the scopeof an analysis of play.
The situations I use to support my arguments about anti-Black racism andplay are tragically common in the lived experiences of Black Canadians, andthey account for only a small portion of the circumstances and realities thatsurround Blackness, being, and play, in North America.

Play and Its Possibilities
Some of the more common scholarship on human play concerns its value andnecessity to child development (Burghardt 2012; Cohen 2018; Ginsburg 2007).
For example, Burghardt (2012), outlines twelve specific types of children’s play,ranging from make-believe imaginative play to play focused on building motor
skills in children. The importance of play for children that is documented in the
research and discourses of a number of academic areas including anthropology, psychology, and education (to name a few), makes play an interdisciplin-

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ary pursuit for scholars. Scholars also explore the value of play in the lives ofadults (van Leeuwen and Westwood 2008) because the physical, social, andemotional well-being benefits that play can provide do not end with childhood.
Even though play is commonly associated with and often described as the “workof children”—and in some instances, adult play is viewed as being “childish”—
there are considerable efforts to highlight the importance of play in the lives ofadults, particularly for creating life balance (Deterding 2017).
Keeping in mind the vast variety of human activities that can be classified asplay, I find it important to link various undertakings of play to examples in thisarticle. Henricks (2020) emphasizes three play rhetorics, “progress, the imaginary, and the self,” and in the first issue of American Journal of Play (AJP), DavidElkind (2008) states “most of us engaged in the study of play consider it a formof exercise for creative dispositions—for imagination, for curiosity, for fantasy”(1). Wright (2018) contributes to this understanding of play and notes that “playis a noncoercive relationship, an imaginative method of engaging everyday life ina specific space and time that we may or may not consider an accomplishment
but that is, in any case, accompanied by a sense of well-being” (4).
The classifications of play in the scholarship reveal the expansive list ofvalues—freedom, pleasure, imagination, joy—attributed to play. These descriptions suggest many activities that Black people use as forms of play—for example,
attending a cultural event, going to a party with music and dancing, taking an
exploratory bicycle ride through the park, and playing in a recreational hockey
league for fun. These activities offer possibilities for expanded imagination,
curiosity, self-expression, and pleasure in the lives of Black people, particularly
in white-dominated spaces where anti-Black racism is incessant.
From these descriptions of play and its value, I would argue that, when
Black people go to cultural festivals, host a party in an art studio, or check into
a fancy Airbnb for their pleasure after a long week of work, these activities serve
the same ends as play, because they are being freely chosen, create space for pleasure, and assist in the manifestation of joy. Bearing in mind play’s imaginative
function (Elkind 2008; Henricks 2020; Wright 2018), these derivatives of playalso create the catalyst for the fantasies that often exist in the Black imagination(hooks 1992)—the fantasy of actually being “free to go” or the fantasy of a world
void of the racism Black people experience daily. These activities often represent
how Black people, especially in the face of white supremacy, choose to play, or
choose to use leisure as play. This association is appropriate for Black people,
as Burr et al., (2019), suggests: “Play experiences and practices are multifaceted

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and are often influenced by a number of sociocultural factors” (362). And in thiscontext, even a walk in the mall—an activity that may not directly connect toplay—affords Black people a space to frolic in playful imaginings, an opportunity
to be curious, to fantasize, and to focus on their well-being.
Through the framing of the types of spaces and opportunities play can andshould provide, I contextualize the activities outlined in this analysis of Black
people and play. I challenge play studies scholars to interrogate the intersectionof race in play and to consider Blackness and being as a limitation to play and,by extension, a limitation to freedom. My focus on events in Canada and experienced by Canadians offers evidence that surveillance and criminalization ofBlack bodies are not endemic to the United States. These everyday situations in
my own experience and the experiences of others are examples of institutionaland social anti-Black racism, and they demonstrate the numerous ways that
Black people are excluded from freely choosing and engaging in play acrossNorth America. Not to be overlooked in this analysis is the resilience of Black
people who face these constraints. Their ongoing resistance to the criminalizingof attempts to play are underscored by the way they seek and express joy throughtheir play, even in the face of persistent racism and surveillance.

Connecting Play and Leisure
In connecting play to leisure, I am focusing on the cognate nature of the concepts. My goal is not to conflate these concepts, but to make clear how both playand leisure are taken up in the lives of Black people in pursuit of desired humanvalues. At the core of both play and leisure lie a few consistently sought values(Stebbins 2017), such as the freedom, joy, and self-expression with which I am
most concerned. Henderson (2012), suggests that pleasure, wellness, happiness,and other positive states of being derive from the engagement in and enjoymentof play and recreation. From this, activities classified as play can also be mapped
to leisure. Both leisure and play create space for entertainment, passive engagement, active interaction, and creative expression (Ross et al. 2020). These are
all fundamental to healthy, valuable, human experiences. Play in other words
underscores the connection these have to freedom, enjoyment, and choice.
Leisure, like play and recreation, offers people an outlet to express theirvalues. As leisure theorist Charles Brightbill (1960) noted, “Our decisions are
based on our values and are never more on display than they are in our choices

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of the things we do to satisfy ourselves. Hence leisure not only provides theopportunity to shape values; it also establishes a setting for expressing them”(46). Brightbill states that desire—in this case, manifested in individual choicesof activities—is fundamental to shaping one’s personal beliefs and developing
self-expression. Choice is central to play and leisure activities, especially forBlack people. Activities such as relaxing, perhaps listening to music at an Airbnb
after work (leisure), or playing a recreational game of hockey (play), can help
individuals experience elements of freedom, joy, and cultural expression. Clearly,
having the freedom and ability to choose activities and freely engage in them isnecessary to human life and, therefore, a right that all people, including Black
people, should be able to enjoy openly.
A clearly outlined relationship between racism and its impact on play,
particularly in the lives of Black people, seems to be absent from many playstudies discourses. This is an area of analysis that critical leisure studies scholars continue to pronounce in their work. But scholars such as R. F. Washborne(1978) and Steven Philipp (1995) have outlined the overall inaccessibility ofleisure and its benefits in parks and wilderness adventures to Black people. And
Rasul Mowatt’s work on leisure, power, place, and order effectively situates theinherent racism seen in the examination of leisure spaces and activities of Black
people (Mowatt 2018).
From a psychological perspective, leisure—like play—has been defined as
an endeavor free from the responsibilities of obligatory work (Stebbins 2017).
The qualities people gain from leisure activities are much like the qualities theyseek from play. When engaging in leisure activities, individuals do what theywant to do, because they want to do it for their own self-expression and joy. The
freedom to choose the activities for play also characterizes leisure. The elementof “free choice,” as outlined by Stebbins, is fundamental to leisure. These connections between leisure and play for Black people manifests through the activities
Black people use to access specific qualities of life, and thus we experience thelimitation to our freedom while we engage in both leisure and play.

Play and the White Racial Frame
Racism is rooted in what Joe Feagin (2013) calls the “white racial frame.” This
white-dominant framing exerts political and social control in all areas of life.
First initiated through colonial theft, violent occupation, and Black enslave-

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ment, the white racial framing of societies produces and supports the power
and privilege of white people, which is upheld through social, economic, andpsychological systems that institute whiteness as superior to all other races. The
white racial frame can be more explicitly and properly defined as the system ofwhite supremacy that has existed through centuries of white domination (Feagin2013). It is through the pervasive, infectious system of white supremacy that theideology of racism (manifested in racial hatred and discrimination) is internalized, enacted, and maintained by people within all societies, particularly thosewith a colonial past (Maynard 2017; Muhammed 2019).
White supremacy has a direct impact on all people who are not raciallyclassified as white. It establishes and maintains whiteness as the norm (statusquo), and all other racial groups and categories as “other” and, therefore, innately
inferior (Feagin 2013). But this does not mean all people who are not raciallyclassified as white are subject to the same racism through institutional, structural, and social practices and policies. It must be acknowledged that one of themost constant and vicious manifestations of white supremacy can be seen in the
racial discrimination and injustice faced by Black people (Dumas 2016). This
type of racism (anti-Black racism) connects all members of society—regardlessof race or social position—to direct, extreme levels of hatred, unjustified fear,
and violence towards Black people in all areas of social life (Maynard 2017;
Muhammed 2019), including play.
The term anti-Black racism was born out of a need for a contemporary
response to the specific and disproportionate impact of racial hatred directed
specifically toward Black people (Kusma et al. 2014). Dumas (2016), draws aparallel between anti-Blackness and the concept of “afro-pessimism.” The concept of afro-pessimism highlights the tensions between Blackness and humanitythat result in anti-Black racism. As Dumas (2016) states, “Anti-Blackness marks
an irreconcilability between the Black and any sense of social or cultural regard”(13). Racial discrimination maintained through historical and contemporary
systems in white-supremacist societies has and continues to severely constrain
Black lives. Thus, the term anti-Black racism best describes the visceral, deliberate, and disproportionate impact of racism on Black bodies. Speaking specifically
about a North American context, Black people have long faced vicious, unscrupulous attacks that are solely based on, and rooted in, the normalized hatred ofBlackness within societies at large. Dumas (2016), elucidates similar notions of
the impact of Blackness and being, particularly as it relates to experiences Black
people have while taking part in everyday activities as: “Black[ness] is socially

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and culturally positioned as slave, dispossessed of human agency, desire, andfreedom” (13).
Baldridge (2020) describes anti-Blackness as “a specific denial of humanity
for Black people and Blackness, marked by gratuitous forms of violence, natalalienation from homelands and homeplaces, and general dishonor within all
forms of social, cultural, and political life” (749). The term anti-Black racism firstdelineates the effects of racism specific to Blackness and, then, makes emphatically clear its severe impact on Black bodies (Kusma et al. 2014).
Any discussion of play should also acknowledge the white racial frame andwhite supremacy that controls predominantly white spaces in regions of North
America. Racial hatred impacts the attempts Black people make to engage inactivities associated with play, including leisure. Upholding anti-Black racism isa normal function of white-supremacist societies. It allows white people—and
other members of society—to appropriate the power and control of institutions
and to continue to devalue and marginalize Black people. This manifests itself
in Black people’s play through its regular scrutinization and even criminalization. The institutional and social subjugation of Black humanity contributes
to the continued nonstatus of Black people. It denies freedom to Black bodies
and, consequently, normalizes excessively punitive responses to Black people
engaging in everyday behaviors (Philipp 1997; Mowatt 2018), even something
as innocuous as walking in a shopping mall or riding a bicycle.

Play as Work and Work as PlayContextualizing the connection between play, leisure, and work is also crucial
to understanding distinctions between freedom as a derivative of play and otheractivities. Some scholars have considered the foundation of play to be something
distinct in its essential purpose from work (Burghardt 2012; Wright 2018). For
example, Wright (2018) posits the difference between play and work as: “Play was
simply an activity that was not coerced. Work, on the other hand, as alienatedor coerced labor, constituted the everyday lives of most people under capitalism, an economic system where play manifested itself through carefully crafted
commercial festivals, carnivals, and hobbies” (3). According to Wright, playaffords one with the possibility for personal self-expression and developmentthat does not have to be tied to capitalist or economic pursuits that may limit
the freedom of the activity.

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The main distinctions between work and play here are personal agency,
freedom, and choice. Yet, if or when play and work coalesce, for example, inthe life of a professional basketball player, Black people are then expected
to play. When it is work in the service of other people’s entertainment andpleasure, Black people playing is acceptable. Consider basketball superstars
Lebron James and Kevin Durrant being told by Fox News commentator Laura
Ingraham to “shut up and dribble” in response to their political statements
about then U.S. President Donald Trump (Lowry 2018). In this case, Black
players were expected to play their sport professionally but thought to haveno other value for society. Professional sports promote the values of play—joy,self-expression, creativity—but its type of play is work for the players, who
are predominantly Black in several professional leagues. Play for such ends isless restricted, and it is encouraged. We see examples of Black people being
celebrated while playing to entertain others who themselves engage in play orleisure by watching professional sports.
The distinction between playing for work and playing for freedom is also
important to my analysis. I must emphasize that the expectation and acceptanceof Black bodies playing when serving the public of capitalist culture and thedenial of freedom when Black people are engaging in activities for freedom andjoy constitute further evidence of the normalizing of anti-Black racism and thedevaluing of Black humanity that makes true freedom unattainable. Why is it
acceptable for Black people to play sports professionally in commission of capitalist priorities but for them to be surveilled and criminalized when they playa sport for their own recreation? The reality is, Blackness and being demands,
accepts, and celebrates Black bodies at work to maintain the white racial framingof society, but our perpetual position of nonstatus as full and free human beings
controls our participation in any desired human values like play and leisure of
our own agency.

Reflections on Anti-Black Racism at Play and Leisure
In my experience, Blackness is a permanent mark that makes any social engagement appear a type of code that needs cracking to determine how to insulate
oneself from the impact of anti-Black racism. To combat attempts to limit myengagement in play and leisure, I look for a combination of inclusivity andtolerance to determine whether I might be welcomed in a particular space. For

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example, when I plan a vacation, I consider whether my Black body is suitable for
specific places. I start with a simple Google search using phrases like: “number
of Black people in . . .”; “incidents of racism in . . .”; and “inclusive, safe places tostay in . . . .” I have never, in my adult life, traveled to a town, city, or country withpredominantly non-Black citizens without first performing a thorough search
as a precaution. I take steps to get ahead of any issues I might experience; after
numerous experiences of anti-Black racism, I am aware that my Blackness andbeing bring tensions within societies at large.
This awareness came at a fairly young age. I remember that one of the firsttimes I recognized the surveillance of my Black body came as I was shopping. In
The Importance of Being Lazy: In Praise of Play, Leisure, and Vacations, Al Gini
(2003) draws a correlation between shopping and leisure and play to describe
how the “pleasures of products and shopping” have become a “primary pleasureprinciple” and in many ways “a main means of recreation” (82). In other words,
shopping has become what Gini calls “a leisure activity in its own right” (85) andcould even be considered a cultural activity in North America, where peopleof all ages regularly use it as recreation. It represents a leisure activity in whichpeople come together in a common space for fun or relaxation, exactly the sortof public engagement that can be impossible for Black people.
This became clear to me during my shopping trip. Walking through themall and occasionally stepping into random stores, I was aware for the first timeof my hyper-visibility, and I saw that I was clearly unwanted. I remember I went
into a popular leather retail chain only to find instantly that all the attention got
placed on my body and my movements. “Is there anything I can do for you?”the sales associate asked. “No, I am just browsing,” I replied. Unsatisfied withmy response, the associate trailed behind me, scrutinizing my every move forabout three minutes before she suggested, “This is considered a high-end store,
you know; I am not sure if there is anything in here for you, let alone anything
you can afford.” Not wanting to cause trouble, I left the store silently, trying to
avoid drawing further attention to myself.
After this incident, anti-Black racism—and its everyday enforcers—
became easier for me to recognize. One night as my friend and I returned homefrom a house party in Toronto, we were rear ended by another vehicle when westopped at a red light. I was driving my father’s car, and the other driver, a whiteman, upon seeing me and my friend—both young Black women—decided not
to exchange insurance information for a simple rear-end accident that was
clearly his fault but instead to call the police. The white man, alone in his car,

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waited for the police to arrive on the scene before engaging with us. When thepolice officers arrived, they asked very few questions before placing both of us
in the back of the squad car. We knew this was unusual protocol for a simple
accident for which I was not to blame. No one involved appeared injured, and,normally, in this type of situation, drivers would exchange information, moveon, and follow up with their insurance companies. I asked the officer why weneeded to sit in the squad car, and he replied: “It’s just standard procedure,
ma’am. We are trying to determine what happened.” The driver of the vehicle
responsible for the accident remained free to move about and speak with thetwo officers.
As I sat in the police car, I noticed the bars separating the back seat fromthe driver and passenger seats. I said to the officer seated up front, “This is avery tight squeeze.” The officer replied, “What, you’ve never been in a police
vehicle before?” My friend said, “No, sir, we never needed to be, kind of like
we don’t need to be now.” There was no response. After about fifteen minutes,
the officer speaking with the other driver returned to the car to question us. He
asked, “Where were you heading?” “Where are you coming from?” “Whose car
is this?” “Do you have permission to drive?” “Does your father know you are out
this late?” The flurry of questions made both of us feel as if we were suspects in
an interrogation room being accused of a crime. Eventually, the officer returned
my license and insurance and informed me that no charges would be filed. I
just needed to follow up with my insurance if I planned to make a claim. After
we asked twice for the other driver’s details, the officers finally gave us a reportthat included the information of the at-fault driver. Then, they told us we were
“free to go.”But were we? Are Black people ever really free to go? The fact that I
was placed in the back of a squad car for trying to return home after a social
gathering constitutes evidence that, as Black people, we are rarely ever free
to go. This is hardly the first time a Black person has experienced surveillance and criminalization for simply being behind the wheel (Bell et al.
2014; Wortley and Tanner 2003). Of course, the impact of surveilling andcriminalizing “driving while Black” affects not only the ability to engage inplay and leisure but also to get to and from other places Black people need
to be, such as school and work.
Still, even knowing how easily anti-Black racism occurs in public spaces,
Black people continue to live the lives they should be free to live. They continue
seek the values that humanity affords despite the attempts at control. This isAre We Free to Go?

perhaps one of the reasons so many examples can be cited of impediments toBlack play and freedom.
Let me now illustrate some of the circumstances in which Black people
resist such forms of control over their ability to choose to engage freely in play.
Any act of resistance and expression of joy, in spite of anti-Black racism, are also
central to Blackness and being in white spaces.

Examples of the Surveillance and Criminalizationof Black Leisure in a Canadian Context
If there is one activity associated with play and Canada, it is hockey. However, a
recent story illustrates how even Canada’s national pastime proves inhospitable
to Black Canadians. In July 2020, The Sports Network (TSN) published a story
by Rick Westhead that described the experiences of two Black teenage boys anda nine-year-old Black boy who play in the Greater Toronto Hockey League andOntario Minor Hockey Association. All three young hockey players had experienced racial slurs, anti-Black surveillance, and excessively punitive measures
for their actions while playing. When the families sought recognition of thisdiscrimination from the league and actions to address their concerns about theracism perpetuated by referees and other officials of the organization, they weredismissed and their concerns left unaddressed (Westhead 2020).
Confronting any type of racism and discrimination in Canada can bedifficult because Canadians and Canadian national institutions have benefited
from the myth of Canada as a multicultural country, void of such racism(Fleras 2014; Pillay 2015). This myth suggests that Black Canadians do notexperience the same level of anti-Black racism found in the United States. This
is not the case, as my previous examples illustrate. Indeed, anti-Black racism
prevents many Black Canadians from enjoying activities used for play. However, Black Canadians persist in attempting to play hockey even considering
hockey’s racist history in Canada (Harris 2003). For Black people to do so in
any form, whether recreationally or professionally, should be considered an
act of resistance.
Many documented experiences of Canadians further demonstrate theimpact of anti-Black racism on playful activities that Black Canadians attempt tofreely enjoy. According to a Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC) report,
on July 10, 2020, Ntwali Bashizi, a twenty-one-year-old student from Ottawa,

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Ontario, was enjoying a leisurely bicycle ride on Stonebridge Trail along the Jock
River in Barrhaven. As he approached a bridge, he decided to dismount, perhaps
to take a closer look at the river. At the same time, a white woman (unnamed in
the report) was approaching the foot of the bridge. Seeing him on the bridge,
she insisted that his presence was “intimidating” her and demanded that the
young man vacate the area so she could continue her walk along the bridge.
Knowing that he was doing absolutely nothing to stop her from crossing, Bashizi
stood his ground. He told her that he was not preventing her from crossing thebridge and intended to stay where he was (Mussa 2020). Not satisfied with his
response, she called the Ottawa Police Service (OPS) to request assistance toremove Bashizi because she was afraid of him. Bashizi captured her call with
OPS on video as she paced back and forth. It is important to note that during
this altercation other people successfully crossed the bridge without any concern
or interference. Still, the white woman stayed on the phone with OPS making
her assertions of intimidation and fear of violence. The OPS operator, taking
the word of the woman with no evidence, asked Bashizi to leave the bridge over
the woman’s phone speaker.
Bashizi refused. Firm in his knowledge that he had done nothing wrong, hesuggested that OPS dispatch an officer to attend to the situation. In the end, noofficers were dispatched. However, knowing this incident occurred because of
racial prejudice, Bashizi made a formal complaint to OPS. Upon further investigation, Bashizi’s lawyer determined that the white woman mentioned Bashizi’s
race twice on her call with OPS, confirming that what Bashizi experienced wasrooted in anti-Black racism (Mussa 2020).
This incident took place in Ottawa, Canada’s capital city and, by all accounts,
a hot spot for Black surveillance enacted through the actions of citizens (Hwang
2021; Lord 2021). Bashizi’s example points to how even simple leisurely activities
like a bicycle ride can create tensions for people who, through the racial framingof their society, believe that Black people engaged in leisure are guilty of criminal activities. Unfortunately, this is a common occurrence all over the country,
even in Canadian cities with a much greater population of Black residents, like
Toronto (Renic 2021; William 2020).
Such an incident occurred on New Year’s Eve in 2016, when John Samuels,a Black Canadian artist, was attacked by Toronto police. The incident, reported
in Canadian Art, an online platform for journalism and criticism about art andculture in Canada (Sandals 2017), and also skillfully elucidated in DesmondCole’s (2020) The Skin We Are In, was the culmination of a series of confronta-

Are We Free to Go?

tions that began when Samuels obtained a storefront in downtown Toronto
for his long-desired art gallery space. According to Cole, upon seeing Samuels
and other Black artists in the area, local residents initiated a string of calls topolice to express their concern about this Black man’s activities. This triggered
intense surveillance and harassment by members of Toronto Police Services(TPS) (Cole 2020).
According to Canadian Art, tensions came to a head during Samuels’s
New Year’s celebration at his gallery. Planned for close friends and art lovers,
the event was to be an evening of celebration, because Black galleries are rarein the city of Toronto. Instead, the TPS raided the gallery and attacked Samuels,
offering the justification that Samuels had failed to obtain the correct permit for
the event. Although Samuels was physically injured by members of TPS during
the altercation, they charged and arrested him for assaulting a police officer andfined him for several other infractions (Sandals 2017).
Samuels’s Blank Canvas Gallery had opened in 2016 to provide a safe spacefor Black artists. As a result of this incident, Samuels lost the gallery entirely. The
locks were changed, and a space dedicated to the creative work of Black people
was closed (Cole 2020). Curiously, according to Canadian Art, other white artists with similar spaces in the area reported never needing to obtain permits
for their small functions. Samuels also suffered the inconvenience of having toengage in legal battles to have the charges against him for that night removed
from his record and the fines reversed (Sandals 2017).
In this example, we can consider the possibility of a gallery space thatis dedicated to Black art and creative expression. Here, Black people canenjoy leisurely viewing and appreciating the artistic pursuits of Black artists. Several scholars have positioned art galleries and museums as sites ofleisure (Foley and McPherson 2000; Stephen 2001), outlining the potential ofmuseums and, by extension, art galleries, for those who create and appreciate art as a leisure activity. Still, as demonstrated by injustice in the experience of Jon Samuels, the opportunity of owning and enjoying his gallery
space for leisure is constrained by anti-Black surveillance and impending
criminalization. Jon Samuels did not have the same opportunities his whitegallery-owning counterparts in the same area had to enjoy gallery space forleisure, or anything else for that matter. As Black people living in Canada, thecriminalization that transpires from Black surveillance follows us everywhere
we go, restricting everything we do.
In 2018 The New York Times reported on a situation involving Toronto

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filmmaker Kelly Fyffe-Marshall and her team, who were finishing a job in San
Bernardino, California, and staying at an Airbnb in Palo Alto (Victor 2018). On
the last day of their stay, Fyffe-Marshall backed up the vehicle in which they
were traveling to load luggage for their departure. She recalls seeing an older
white woman across the street steadily scrutinizing her movements, but she
stopped paying attention to her as they finished packing. However, as soon as
they began driving, they were suddenly surrounded by seven police vehicles on
the street and a helicopter above. The filmmakers, who consisted of two Black
women (including Fyffe-Marshall), one Black man, and one white woman, wereasked to put their hands up and to exit their vehicle. Only the three Black crew
members were restricted from movement during the altercation and eventually
were informed that they were being detained while police officers investigatedFyffe-Marshall’s story.
During the detainment, officers were rude and disrespectful, refusing to
respond to questions as the team, knowing that no crime had been committed,
grew frustrated with the inconvenience. After approximately twenty minutes ofquestioning and confirmation from the Airbnb host that the team was staying
in her lodgings, the crew members were told that they were allowed to leave(Victor 2018).
Interestingly, after being released, a police vehicle followed the team as
they drove to the airport, while the helicopter continued tracking the groupfrom above. Again, this is another example of authorities, after implicatingand harassing the activities of Black people, suggesting that the victims of theirharassment and brutality are simply free to go. Free to go? Evidently, from thecontinued surveillance that this group experienced even after any concern about
their presence was discovered to be completely unfounded, Black people are
not free to go in any of the environments in which we live, work, or attempt toplay. The history of Black people’s nonstatus as a result (a legacy) of colonialism
and slavery has deemed freedom for Black people almost impossible in North
America and other parts of the world.
Although the filming team in this situation was in California to fulfill
work-related tasks connected to a conference the team was attending, Airbnb
has gained significant popularity among travellers as suitable accommodation
options when travelling for both work or leisure (Jang et al. 2019). It is notuncommon for people who travel for work or business to take opportunities toengage in leisure activities during the trip (Harris 2009). Clearly, based on thedetails of the incident and how quickly the white neighbor involved police, noAre We Free to Go?

type of activity, neither for leisure nor for business involving Black people, werewelcome in this neighbourhood.

Discussion
I could have used countless examples here to show how anti-Black racism
limits Black people’s access to activities for play and other freedoms. A litanyof news stories depicts the constant and present threat of criminalization that
results from the active surveillance of Blackness in Canada and the UnitedStates. As I noted earlier, the persistence of anti-Black racism in these circumstances demonstrate Black people’s insistence, despite the ongoing barriers
and threats to freedom, to fulfill their human need for freedom and joy. The
examples highlighted here also show how Black people play in the face of antiBlack racism. The message is clear, white supremacy presents very real, very
violent realities for Black people; however, we are going to play on our terms,
regardless. From playing hockey to cycling to attending art gallery parties, playin these Canadian examples is more about the expressed associations with thevalues of excitement and freedom that all Black people, no matter where they
live, seek to enjoy.
To corroborate the Canadian examples, I could consider experiences ofBlack people in the United States. Like the example of Christian Cooper, theBlack Central Park birdwatcher who was reported to police for asking a white
woman to place her dog on a leash. The white woman who made the complaint
was in an area of the park in which several signs indicate that dogs are required
to be on a leash (Vera and Ly 2020). Or take the story of Lolade Siyonbola, a Black
Yale University student who was reported to campus police for falling asleep inher dorm lounge because the complainant, a white student, believed she must
be in the wrong place (Gerken 2018). Here, again, the normalized surveillanceand criminalization of Blackness, motivated by the anti-Black racism of citizens,
effectively limits access to these activities and their inherent values when Black
people engage in them.
Taking these situations as a whole and how they reflect concerns about thesurveillance of Blackness that leads to criminalizing Black activities, I can draw
three clear conclusions.
First, in white-dominant societies, the status quo (white supremacy) initially established through colonial control and Black enslavement continues

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to be preserved, resulting in anti-Black racism. In examining the histories ofBlack enslavement, which established the criminality of Black bodies within
the white racial frame, we are not surprised to see legacies of the enslavedmaster relationship, not that the community surveillance that maintained white
supremacy historically continues to be weaponized against Black people today.
Beyond superficial discussions and some minor changes meant to address theimpact of racism systemically, no significant transformation has occurred in theideologies and cultures of North American society to create the shift needed forBlack people to be treated as free and equal members of society. How do Black
people go from being owned for over 250 years within a system that functioned
to dehumanize them, to now—in less than half of the period of legal enslavement—being seen and treated as free? I am not suggesting this type of ideologicaland structural change was not possible within such a period, but I argue that the
unwavering support and justification for sustaining white supremacy throughthe policies and practices of institutions makes true and complete Black freedom
an impossible feat.
In each situation I describe—from my encounter at the mall to the experience of the Toronto artist celebrating the start of a new year—members of society
first engage in surveillance of Black bodies, which leads to their suspecting theseBlack bodies to be criminal, and finally, in most cases, results in their carryingout Black persecution by calling authorities. This series of actions, surveilling,suspecting, and criminalizing, effectively sustains the white-supremist status quo
first established with colonialism and European occupation in the Americas. In
a contemporary context, this system keeps Black people in perpetual bondage
even as we are said to be “free,” “free to go,” or “free to play.” Sharpe (2016) asks:“What is the word for how we must approach the archives of slavery (to ‘tell thestory that cannot be told’) and the histories and presents of violent extraction
in slavery and in incarceration; the calamities and catastrophes that sometimes
answer to the names of occupation, colonialism, imperialism, tourism, militarism or humanitarian aid and intervention?” (113).
Sharpe’s question resonates within this analysis as it reminds us of thesophistication of the white-supremacy system. As apparent legally instituted
shifts (i.e., emancipation) take shape, the system secures white authority throughthe actions of its everyday protectors to ensure that full and fair participation
in society cannot be achieved for those once enslaved, owned, and controlled
through white dominance.
The case of Bashizi, the white woman who refused to cross the bridge

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because a Black male body was standing on it, demonstrated the undeniable factthat the woman prioritized her whiteness and inherent superiority (her entitlement to leisure) over any claim to freedom this young Black man may have inan open public space. History, and contemporary inaction against racism, havetaught her that she is not required to respect Black bodies even as they play. Theinternalization and value she placed on her superior white status within society
was and continues to be a learned response made possible through submission
to and protection of white supremacy.
The same is true for all the situations documented in this article. Even in mycar accident, in which the white male driver of the other automobile was clearlyat fault, his internalized supremacy as a white man led to my automatic guilt asa Black woman. He, then, was justified in enforcing surveillance of my body toensure that I was treated as suspect and criminalized for his wrongful actions, allof this as I was merely trying to return from a fun and playful social gathering.
The barriers created by anti-Black racism are upheld at the institutional aswell as structural levels. However, it is members of society (usually non-Black
people) who through their interpersonal, social, everyday experiences maintainthe suffocating criminalization of Blackness. Black bodies were seen as subhuman and criminalized even before their arrival to the Americas (Maynard2017). Within white societies, therefore, scrutiny based on Black people’s nonstatus was de facto permissible and actively carried out by members of society.
As Maynard points out, “all free and enslaved people were subject to the surveillance of a larger white community and law enforcement officials, who together
scrutinized the presence of Black bodies in public spaces” (85). The examples I
have outlined demonstrate that this surveillance by society at large persists andcontributes to Black people’s continued nonstatus.
Unchecked anti-Black racism, in the form of normalized surveillance ofBlack bodies, impedes Black people from freely engaging in play or any of its
derivatives. Jon Samuels, Kelly Fyffe-Marshall, and the young Black hockey
players were all subject to surveillance, which led to the criminalization of
their activities. By looking at the details of each incident, we get a sense of how
Black people, though supposedly physically free, can be so easily monitored
and tracked through the legitimized policing of Black activities. Blackness is so
regularly criticized, punished, and condemned that discrimination and violence
enforced on Black bodies as they play, relax, and even rest has been systematicallyregulated and deemed defensible. Under these circumstances, there are limits towhat a Black person can do to fully benefit from the freedom that emancipation

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should have legally provided. The white neighbor across the street believed she
was seeing Black burglars as Fyffe-Marshall and her team loaded up their car
to leave their Airbnb. The same internalized, unchecked white supremacy andentitlement factored into Samuels’s business neighbors initiating calls to police
about his gallery, leading to eventual assault by law enforcement officers. AntiBlack racism continues to have both its defenders and excusers. Therefore, any
institutional and structural changes initiated to address racism on a broader
level that allow it to go unexamined and permitted on a personal level will havevery little impact.
When members of society use their power to call the police, they are exhibiting what Browne (2015) describes as one of the functions of white supremacy,
which is “to make everyone aware” of the order of things, even when the orderhas been legally changed. She states, “if an act that is deemed criminal is anassault on sovereign’s power, an exercise of sovereign power is that which seeks
to make the sovereign’s surplus power plainly understood by all” (35). With bastions of white supremacy around every turn ready and willing to outlaw Blackbodies, the system is so powerful and pervasive that Black people, though “free,”have little power to effectively or legally resist.
Most of the events I have detailed were nationally reported on a variety ofnews media outlets. The media reporting also note that each incident reflects
severe injustice, and it may even call for broad, intentional reform to dismantle
ideologies and bias. However, this is not enough. Many of these circumstances
not only escalated unnecessarily but ended with confrontations with police,
pointing to the ongoing threat of violence and incarceration that surround Black
people even as they play. Under these conditions, how are Black people supposed
to be free? How are they to enjoy human values that play has to offer such as
freedom, choice, and self-expression?
Lastly, anti-Black racism and the surveillance of Blackness combine tocreate profound, crippling constraints on Black humanity. Blackness is in directconflict with freedom and humanity within white-dominant societies, making
play and relaxation in public space a risky, at times even a fatal, endeavor. But
Black people continue to take the risk, we continue to seek the values derived
from play through a variety of activities that we choose for ourselves. We takethe risk and too often suffer the consequence of unjustified surveillance.
There is nothing uncommon, unfamiliar, or surprising about the anti-Black
racism experienced by Black people living in Canada and the United States.
Any discussion or analysis of leisure and play must also emphasize its limita-

Are We Free to Go?

tions for Black people in white-dominant societies. Play is not and has neverbeen fair in the lives of Black people, and these limitations speak to continued
manifestations of the nonstatus of Black people and are undoubtedly linked tothe anti-Black racism.
The belief that Black people are criminals, undeserving of human values
or status, is firmly rooted and deeply entrenched in the perceptions, attitudes,
and actions of members of society at large. As Maynard (2010) writes, “Thedemonization of Black communities that has been continually reinforced by thecriminal justice systems has been largely accomplished by age-old associations
between Blackness and criminality” (84). As a result, the multiple ways that
non-Black members of society engage in and enjoy play are not openly available
for Black people in North America. Any activity chosen, whether walking in
the mall, going to a party, riding a bicycle, resting at an Airbnb, or celebrating
the opening of an arts space, can result in harassment, criminal charges, andphysical injury. Unless of course, it is in the service of white supremacy, such asprofessional sports for entertainment. Black bodies are expected to play in theservices of capitalist consumption, which other, non-Black people can openly
enjoy. White supremacy has so effectively normalized anti-Blackness, maintaining the long history of loathing and contempt for Black life in all forms, that it
is often impossible for Black people to engage in play as they desire and see fit.
It can feel as if a code exists that needs to be cracked to work our way aroundthe surveillance that interrogates Blackness and the varieties of ways we seek toplay. For Black people who, through inescapable white entitlement, are deemed
automatically criminal, there is nothing playful about play.

Conclusion
The characteristics that constitute play and leisure continue to be debated, but
one basic element widely agreed upon is that leisure and recreation is a necessary
and fundamental feature of human life. All people in Canada and the UnitedStates, two countries that boast of upholding principles of freedom and choice,should have open, unhindered opportunities to engage in play, without discrimination. For Black people, though, this freedom is an illusion. Black cultures inNorth America are not monolithic, we represent a multitude of identities, andwe live, play, and resist, in different ways. However, due to our race, we all seem
to share similar experiences that manifest from white supremacy and our his-

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tories of subjugation. The idea of Black people being free to engage in play as
their basic human right remains incongruent with Black life in North America.
Freedom is not possible for people who live in perpetual bondage. Black people
continue to cultivate their own means of freedom to resist control in all aspects ofhuman life. This is what consciousness of Blackness and being means. It means,
we are never truly free to go like many other members of society. And, still, we
try to create freedom through our activities despite the people who uphold thesystems designed to deny our freedoms.
Feminist scholar and activist Audre Lorde (1984) said, “The true focus of
revolutionary change is never merely the oppressive situations that we seek toescape, but that piece of the oppressor which is deeply planted in within eachof us” (123). This seems a fitting quote on which to end. The oppressive systems(such as white supremacy) that create the situations described in this analysis,
which we seek to escape, are maintained through institutions and the ideologies and everyday actions of citizens. It is the internalized loathing toward, andnonstatus of, Blackness that restricts the activities in which Black people choose
to play. Black people will always actively resist the structures and barriers that
continue to hold us hostage and limit our ability to play freely. We will always
find and experience joy on our terms. However, the false notion of freedom forall people remains an ongoing constraint in Black lives. For Black people to be
free to go, the ongoing surveillance of Blackness needs to be addressed and dismantled. As much as anti-Black racism confines Black social life on a systemiclevel, it is the maintenance of oppressive ideologies through the policing of Blackbodies that prevents Black people from unrestrictedly engaging in the valuesof human life, including the value of play. It is clear that Blackness and being
has not, will not, and, I deeply fear, cannot be unshackled from slavery. Whitesupremacist society prevents the very thing that is needed, which is Black bodies
unharnessed from racism and control, for Black people to be free, at last, to play.

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