Simone Biles, the US gymnast widely considered “the greatest of all time”, withdrew from the Olympic finals this week, saying:
I have to focus on my mental health […] We have to protect our minds and our bodies and not just go out and do what the world wants us to do.
Biles joins other Black women like Naomi Osaka and Meghan Markle who have chosen to forgo medals, trophies and royalty to prioritise their mental well-being.
In a recent Guardian article about “the rise of the great refusal” author Casey Gerald argued “Biles did not simply quit. She refused”.
There is immense power in refusal. These women have awoken something in those of us who struggle to say “no” or who blindly serve institutions that do not have our best interest at heart. They challenge us to erect boundaries to protect our well-being.
Pressure to take on ever more work and ever more responsibility is familiar to many. But saying “no” can present unique difficulties for people from racially minoritised backgrounds.
Setting professional boundaries can be deeply challenging in the face of pressure, discrimination and adverse mental health impacts.
Pressure to take on ever more work
In academia, this pressure persists. Research by colleagues and I (Kathomi Gatwiri) shows academics from minoritised backgrounds continue to have radically different experiences to their colleagues. We argue that academics from minoritised backgrounds:
are often expected to be grateful, likeable, and […] to provide extensive pastoral care so as to maintain student happiness.
They are also exposed to more severe hostility and punishments through flawed tools of measuring performance such as Student Evaluations of Teaching if they choose not to perform this extra labour. This causes extended emotional overload for many teachers and can be especially damaging to their mental well-being.
Researchers have written about the pressure of Black tenure-track academics “to engage in service activities that are not expected of their White counterparts” such as doing extra mentoring and joining more committees:
When Black faculty members face enormous requests for service, White colleagues often advise and encourage Black faculty to “just say no”.
However, just saying “no” does not always work to their best interest and can lead to institutional punishment, which can derail career progress.
Another paper which looked at how Black American women contend with the pressure to take on ever more responsibilities, noted “some women talked about the difficulty of saying no […] yet others talked about the empowerment of saying no.” One interviewee said:
I don’t know how to say no […] I feel I have an issue with saying no. I will spread myself like peanut butter out.
In our own research on the pressures faced by Black African professionals in the workplace in Australia, participants reported feeling the workplace was a site of constant surveillance and scrutiny, where they were often assumed to be “out of place”. This increases the burden of having to work “twice as hard” to prove themselves worthy, which can result in an inability to say “no” at work.
The power of ‘no’
Simone Biles’ decision to withdraw from the Olympics might, in retrospect, become one of her greatest achievement of all time. She has since received widespread support from those who view her decision as an incredibly powerful message for all who are burdened with societal pressures and expectations.
Black and Indigenous peoples have engaged in the power and politics of refusal and resistance for centuries — a refusal to lend their bodies, time, expertise and talent to institutions that are violent and abusive.
In ordinary, everyday lives however, people who exercise this kind of resistance might be ostracised. They may lack the necessary support to bolster their decision to “opt out” or just rest.
Biles’ withdrawal came soon after three Black players on the England national football team were subjected to a torrent of extreme racial abuse after the team’s loss at the recent Euro finals with Italy.
Many Black people reflected on social media they already knew that if they lost the game, the outcome would be racial abuse. And so the pressure to win, might be intensified by the fear of the resulting abuse if they lose.
Sport, pressure and abuse
People’s discomfort with athletes expressing vulnerability or anything but toughness and strength can influence the athletes’ complicity in their own harm.
Research by one of us (McPherson and colleagues) investigating the experiences of Australian children in elite sport showed more than 50% also reported negative experiences, including emotional and physical harm and sexual harassment. Emotional and physical abuse was enacted through racial vilification, humiliation, bullying, being shouted or sworn at, have things thrown at them or being told they were worthless or weak.
Other research has identified how various minoritised subpopulations of elite athletes, including those with disabilities or from racially minoritised backgrounds, may be more vulnerable to harm in sport.
The liberation of ‘no’
Biles’ refusal to compete citing mental health has resonated widely.
Many struggle to say “no” for a variety of reasons including fear of rejection, a feeling that saying “yes” is the safest option or feeling they will be construed as “rebellious” or “difficult” if they say “no”. Fear of disappointing others or feeling their reason for saying “no” is “not good enough” also plays a part.
Biles, Osaka and others may serve as inspiration. Practising the liberation of turning down invites, relationships, extra work and high pressure is part of maintaining good mental health.