Why isn’t Angel Reese judged by the same standard as Caitlin Clark when fans go after her teammates?

Why isn’t Angel Reese judged by the same standard as Caitlin Clark when fans go after her teammates?

WNBA reporters and commentators have repeatedly asked Caitlin Clark to answer for online abuse, urging her to denounce racism, misogyny and homophobia—even though she isn’t responsible for what strangers post about other players.

But does that expectation apply when players are being targeted by people who say they support a different star, Angel Reese, whom those same commentators often treat differently?

Atlanta Dream players Jordin Canada and Rhyne Howard have recently faced hostile messages online. The abuse isn’t coming from people claiming to be Clark supporters, but from accounts expressing support for Reese.

Will the commentators who have said Clark must speak out now ask Reese to do the same? I doubt it.

To be clear, I don’t believe either player owes anyone a statement. Clark and Reese aren’t responsible for other people’s online behavior. Still, the people who have repeatedly put that burden on Clark should explain why they aren’t applying the same standard now.

For three seasons, members of the WNBA media have called on Clark to condemn online abuse. She has done so more than once.

On July 3, Clark gave a lengthy response, condemning harassment directed at opponents, teammates and coaches. She said the hate was unacceptable, that people’s character shouldn’t be questioned, and that she would never want anyone to experience that treatment.

The subject came up again at her season-ending news conference on October 8. A reporter asked about comments from teammate Kelsey Mitchell and about the attention the team receives because of Clark, including attention she may not have sought.

It was the familiar setup: other people send the messages, but Clark is asked to account for the attention her teammates receive.

She answered again, saying she didn’t support people using her name to promote racist rhetoric, hate or discrimination.

Yet that apparently wasn’t enough. On October 23, ESPN analyst Monica McNutt said no one would use her image to support causes she opposed. Clark had already made clear that she rejected such behavior. How many statements would be enough?

Now that people claiming to support Reese are attacking Reese’s teammates, will McNutt expect Reese to respond? I’m not expecting it.

Canada returned to social media after steering clear of it during the playoffs and quickly encountered the sort of abuse she had been avoiding. She wrote that it was astonishing to see fans choosing to post such hurtful, cruel comments, describing them as heartless, rude and insensitive.

Some posts aimed at Canada and Howard made their loyalties plain. One accused Howard, coach Karl Smesko and the Dream’s owners of betraying Reese in a supposedly fixed Finals. Another defended Reese while calling Canada and Howard selfish, both as players and as people, and accusing them of not caring about winning. Some of the abuse was explicitly racist, including the use of racial slurs.

Where are the calls for Reese to address people using her name to justify attacks on other players? So far, WNBA commentators have had little to say.

Reese, meanwhile, shared her plans for the next six months in a post on a private secondary Instagram account. She said she would pause her podcast for the offseason, make occasional YouTube vlogs, rest and work out in Florida.

“I’m dedicating this offseason to myself,” she wrote.

Imagine Clark announcing that she planned to spend six months focusing on herself while teammates were discussing nasty messages they had received. The response from the WNBA media would likely be enormous.

There would probably be days—or weeks—of debate about leadership and accountability, and whether Clark was abandoning teammates dealing with online abuse.

Commentary across major publications would likely frame the choice as an example of white women being able to prioritize themselves while Black women are expected to worry about everyone in their community.

Then Clark would be asked for another statement, and people would likely say it wasn’t enough. That cycle could fill the offseason. But where are the comparable lectures about Reese being selfish? I haven’t seen them.

The league spends a remarkable amount of time discussing what people—and bots—say online.

In August, after Sophie Cunningham’s remarks about “biological men” competing in women’s sports prompted a debate about eligibility, Commissioner Cathy Engelbert told teams that the league’s anti-hate task force would discuss whether males should be eligible to play in the WNBA.

Yahoo Sports later reported that the meeting focused largely on online abuse directed at players. Even with eligibility on the agenda, the conversation reportedly turned back to internet harassment.

I wanted to ask Engelbert about that at her October 17 news conference before Game 1 of the Finals. Why does online commentary take up so much of the league’s attention? And does the constant focus on negativity crowd out positive developments in attendance and TV audiences?

I wasn’t called on. Engelbert did return to the issue in her final answer, condemning people who sit behind a keyboard to direct hate, racism and misogyny at players.

After all the meetings, statements and public criticism, you might expect the reporters and commentators who have demanded more from Clark to recognize a similar situation in Atlanta.

Where are Elle Duncan, Monica McNutt, Sarah Spain and Nancy Armour? Where are the calls for Reese to stand up for her teammates?

Again, I don’t think Reese owes anyone a statement. Neither does Clark. But the people who have spent three seasons placing that responsibility on Clark should explain why their standard seems to vanish when it would mean asking Reese to speak.

In the WNBA media’s telling, Clark must answer for what happens online. Reese, by contrast, gets to focus on herself.

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