DeJonai Carrington might have just pulled off what could be called one of the most educational fouls in basketball.
In a recent conversation with a friend, I found myself going down a nostalgic path when he asked if I remembered roller derby. I had to admit I didn’t. He described it as a sport where women would go head-to-head in a rather aggressive manner. And just like that, a connection clicked.
It’s intriguing because “white privilege” isn’t an idea that slipped into professional sports by accident. There’s a certain intellectual background to it.
This reminded me of a college class discussion where some feminists passionately argued that women, by nature, should lead because they are more composed and empathetic than men. Yet, I’ve witnessed those same individuals display contempt towards their conservative counterparts. So, there’s often a gap between what is theorized and what actually takes place.
Recently, the WNBA has shown us that women, too, are complex beings, capable of aggression and competitiveness, alongside, perhaps, a bit of resentment or reluctance to accept fault.
During a recent game between the Chicago Sky and the Indiana Fever, Sophie Cunningham made a layup attempt when Carrington, trying to chase her down, struck her in the head and neck. The referees reviewed the incident, deemed it aggravated, and ejected Carrington from the game.
This was pure WNBA drama, but then academia decided to weigh in.
After being ejected, Carrington took to social media to comment that it all tied back to “white privilege.” I have to admit, her efficiency in framing the situation that way is quite remarkable. It often takes universities a whole semester to get students to view common interactions through racial lenses. She seemed to do it in mere minutes.
Unsurprisingly, people began to raise questions. For instance, “What does it matter that Cunningham is white when Carrington punched her?”
Among those commenting was former NFL player Emmanuel Acho, who criticized Carrington’s reference to white privilege. She later clarified her stance, suggesting her comments weren’t about the ejection specifically. Rather, she believed it pointed to a broader trend of how white players are treated differently. She even defended her perspective by referencing her education—yes, including her time at Stanford.
That’s where things get interesting beneath the WNBA surface.
Carrington’s reliance on her educational background to support her viewpoint showcases how deeply some educated individuals have adopted terms like “white privilege” to interpret conflicts and consequences in life.
American universities have for decades equipped students with tools to analyze social interactions through racial frameworks. This isn’t a new phenomena in professional sports; it has a historical context behind it. In this educational setting, racial identity tends to turn into a significant marker through which various aspects of life—outcomes, disparities, and so on—are judged.
Clearly, Carrington is leaning on her education as an authoritative standpoint on the matter. So, maybe it’s worth considering what exactly students are learning. While Stanford is a private institution, it does receive federal funding, which implies compliance with federal anti-discrimination laws. This doesn’t prevent educators from discussing controversial racial theories, of course. But it becomes problematic when those theories shift from mere discussions to accepted doctrines that categorize people morally based on race.
Let’s turn the tables for a moment. Imagine a university program that instructs students to analyze their Black classmates’ behavior through the lens of “Black privilege,” making sweeping generalizations based on race. Would anyone genuinely argue race is irrelevant then?
This incident involving Carrington also highlights how these educational principles often serve as a shield against personal accountability.
In traditional academic settings, the focus was on nurturing good character—cultivating wisdom while resisting vices like hatred or envy. It doesn’t mean injustices won’t occur, just that responding to wrongs with another injustice isn’t the answer. Good individuals fear wrongdoing, not just people.
Today’s universities, however, seem to be steering students to identify injustices within systems, structures, and power dynamics. In some cases, these examinations are warranted. But they can also provide a vocabulary that might justify one’s own decisions. The philosophical contrast here could be boiled down to this: the pursuit of goodness versus a mere reduction of everything to power dynamics.
In the face of an obvious foul in basketball, the classic response would be quite straightforward: “That was excessive.”
Now, the language around these matters has shifted to something much more elaborate.
Terms like systems, disparities, power structures, and historical patterns tend to cloud the fundamental question: “Why did you punch her?” — this often gets lost in academic jargon.
This is one of the pitfalls of identity ideology. You can craft explanations for almost any negative situation encountered. If I achieve something, it’s because I’ve overcome barriers. If you do well, it’s because privilege favors you. When I face consequences, we’ll analyze the system’s failures. When you’re penalized, it’s finally just justice.
Finding personal accountability becomes surprisingly elusive.
Carrington also stood by her intense playing style, insisting she did whatever was necessary to prevent opponents from scoring. While I get that, it strays from the essence of organized sports.
Basketball, at its core, isn’t just about overpowering opponents at any cost; it operates within defined rules.
That’s the distinction between basketball and, say, a street brawl.
Sure, you can contest shots, block the ball, or take a solid defensive stance. A common foul might even be appropriate in certain situations, but just throwing the kitchen sink to stop an opponent from scoring? That’s a different story entirely.
Otherwise, what’s to stop you from going beyond that? You could tackle, bite, or even choke them out.
Though, given recent WNBA highlights, perhaps we should avoid giving anyone dangerous ideas.
Rules aren’t obstacles in a game; they define the game. That’s a moral lesson obscured by Carrington’s perspective.
Society functions similarly. We can’t just suspend accepted behavior because we feel we’re addressing an injustice. Judging people based on skin color, based on an elaborate theory, doesn’t necessarily illuminate the truth. When anti-racism permits behaviors fueled by hatred and envy in the name of combating hatred and racial injustice, it corrupts its very purpose.
Carrington’s foul was momentary, but her justification merits further scrutiny. It serves as a reminder that when racial ideologies seep into sports, they often stem from deeper educational influences.
Someone introduced these concepts to her—probably during her studies. And it’s concerning that taxpayers support institutions that propagate these ideas.
