Standing on an all-white pool deck and feeling as though you don’t belong there without anyone saying anything is a unique kind of loneliness. Alia Atkinson is familiar with that emotion. Michael Gunning agrees. Neither of them departed.
Growing up splashing around in the shallow end of a Jamaican swim club before learning the breaststroke from her older brother Adi, Atkinson became the first Black woman to win a world swimming title when she narrowly defeated Olympic champion Ruta Meilutyte in 2014.
She was unaware that she had won. She didn’t see her name in second place when she looked up at the scoreboard, but it was in first. She has described the response as pure, unadulterated joy. Not a well-rehearsed celebration of victory. Something more genuine than that.
Nevertheless, Atkinson has spent a significant portion of her career battling for sponsorship in spite of that moment, matching the world record participating in four Olympics. Sponsors of the sport, which is dominated by white people, typically follow its current fan base.
Because non-white swimmers are underrepresented, fewer businesses see the financial benefit of supporting them, which keeps the sport whiter. This is a self-reinforcing system rather than overt bias. It has been said that because she resides overseas, she is challenging to endorse. It’s the kind of circular reasoning that maintains the status quo.
Then there is the stereotype itself the unyielding, absurd notion that Black people are incapable of swimming. In this regard, Atkinson is straightforward. She notes that anyone who is willing to look can find historical proof that Black people have been swimming for centuries.
Slavery was followed by segregated pools and generations denied access to aquatic infrastructure, which created an economic barrier rather than a biological one. To compete, a child in Kingston needs to pay for a pool membership, coaching, pricey swimwear travel expenses. A football costs a lot less.
This has been experienced from a different perspective by Michael Gunning, who competed for Great Britain before switching to represent Jamaica in 2016. He heard “don’t Black people sink” all his life. from classmates who detected a chlorine odor on him.
People thought he was a sprinter when he wore a Jamaican shirt. He claims that surviving the terror attack in Manchester in 2017 was a turning point in his life. He believes that no time should be wasted trying to prove yourself to people who are determined not to see you. He continued to swim.
Observing this develop over time gives the impression that Jamaican swimming holds a peculiar place in the world. The nation is so deeply associated with track that its swimmers are virtually invisible at home and exist in a parallel narrative that is decorated internationally.
Atkinson has openly discussed the difficulty of competing against Usain Bolt for attention from young people and cultural relevance rather than on the track. Bolt makes tens of millions of dollars a year just from endorsements. That economy is not understood by swimmers. In light of this, she has changed her objective: if she can lower the number of drowning deaths in Jamaica, that will be worth more than a headline.
Perhaps the tide is gradually shifting. FINA has worked to make competitions accessible to more people from different countries and backgrounds. Gunning expresses a desire to motivate the upcoming generation of Black and LGBTQ+ swimmers.
Since winning the title in 2014, Atkinson has used every media appearance to promote the expansion of the sport; she views visibility as infrastructure. It’s still unclear whether that translates into actual funding, actual pools in places like Montego Bay, or actual opportunities for Jamaican kids who might enjoy the water if given the chance.
It is evident that both swimmers made the decision to continue competing at the highest levels in a sport that didn’t always make them feel welcome. Usually, that level of perseverance doesn’t make the highlight reel. Most likely, it should.