ARTHUR ASHE AND APARTHEID: HIS FIGHT AGAINST RACIAL SEGREGATION IN
SOUTH AFRICA AND ITS IMPORTANCE IN A MODERN, INTEGRATED AMERICA
ANDREW YAVORSKI
History 395.012
Sports and Civil Rights
University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill
Spring 2012
Yavorski 1
During the 1970s, one of the most iconic leaders of our time was trapped on a desolate
and hopeless island off the coast of South Africa. Nelson Mandela dreamed of a day he and his
compatriots would be free, not just from the confines of the notorious Robben Island prison
facility, but from the throes of racism that characterized South Africa’s apartheid system. During
the same time, an African American prodigy by the name of Arthur Ashe had become one of the
best tennis players in the world, defying odds to succeed as a black person playing a white man’s
game. Arthur Ashe was an inspiring symbol for those fighting racial repression, for prisoners on
Robben Island and millions of black South Africans figuratively imprisoned within their own
homeland. This was particularly the case after Ashe’s improbable run to become the first black
man to win at Wimbledon in 1975. Ashe’s victory gave prisoners on Robben Island an outlet to
emotionally detach themselves from their living hell. In fact, the main courtyard at Robben
Island happened to have ideal dimensions for a tennis court: As Nelson Mandela himself
remembers, “Prisoners from the general section painted the cement surface green and then
fashioned the traditional configuration of white lines. A few days later a net was put up and
suddenly we had our own Wimbledon in our front yard.”1 Nelson Mandela claimed to have a
weak backhand2, but his spirit was only strengthened because of people like Arthur Ashe. In an
interview after finally being released from prison in 1990, Mandela was asked if he wanted to
meet any Americans as a free man: His answer was Arthur Ashe.
Arthur Ashe was an elite, Hall-of-Fame tennis player, winning three major
championships along with Davis Cup titles both as a player and as a coach. He was known for
his on-court aggressiveness and intellectual savvy, but his legend is not exclusive to the tennis
court; in fact, he arguably belongs in a humanitarian hall of fame. As Ashe aged, he became
1
2
Nelson Mandela, A Long Walk to Freedom (New York: Back Bay Books & Little, Brown & Company, 1994), 491.
Ibid., 491.
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increasingly involved in numerous social causes, ranging from domestic African American
education and poverty, to the plight of Haitian refugees. Towards the end of his life, Ashe
suddenly became involved in activism regarding AIDS, the incurable and highly stigmatized
illness he contracted in the late 1980s. But his first, and arguably most influential, activist project
was the struggle against the Apartheid government in nation of South Africa. Ashe was engaged
with the anti-apartheid struggle from a young age, and he continued to champion the cause until
the system was dismantled shortly before his death.
Simply put, Arthur Ashe was one of the most prolific athlete-activists in world history.
Arthur Ashe possessed a unique, cerebral brand of activism that evolved over multiple decades.
He was not a pioneering athlete like Jackie Robinson, who withstood racial degradation for three
full years after being the first black man to integrate Major League Baseball. Nor was he a
boisterous athlete like Muhammad Ali, who refused to stand quietly beside a country that still
harbored significant inequalities regarding race. Arthur Ashe’s activism was profoundly
intellectual and unique from any other athlete before him.
This paper will evaluate Arthur Ashe’s prominent role in South Africa’s anti-apartheid
struggle, as well as define the distinctive, unparalleled evolution of Arthur Ashe as a person and
activist. Two events in particular, the 1973 South African Open, and Arthur Ashe’s arrest in front
of the South African embassy in 1985, best demonstrate Ashe’s gradual development and
ultimate success as a leading athlete-activist both during and after his tennis career.
1943-1968:
To analyze Arthur Ashe as an activist, it is critical to understand his upbringing and the
development of his complex personality. Arthur Ashe Jr. was born in old capital of the
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Confederacy, Richmond, Virginia, in a segregated Saint Phillips Hospital on July 10, 1943 to
Mattie Cunningham Ashe and Arthur Robert Ashe.3 Arthur Junior, as his father called him, was a
sickly child that contracted multiple illnesses; however, he never allowed any of these to hold
him back. Ironically, illness dictated much of Ashe’s life, and the lives of loved ones around him.
When Ashe was only six years old, his mother suddenly died at the age of twenty-seven from
complications surrounding a third pregnancy. Without his mother, Arthur Ashe Sr. assumed
great responsibility in raising his two sons, Arthur Jr. and Johnny Ashe. His mother’s death
precipitated great change in Ashe’s father’s demeanor, who became more serious and disciplined
in assuring a future for his children.4 Ashe Jr. was very much influenced by his namesake, and
remembers how his father’s unwavering commitment to self-sufficiency, patience, “hard work
and discipline helped shape my personality.”5
Another substantial impact on Arthur Ashe’s life was his exposure to the game of tennis.
In 1947, Arthur Sr. was hired as a “special policeman” to the city of Richmond and was put in
charge of looking after the local Brook Field playground.6 The playground happened to have
four serviceable tennis courts, but Arthur’s father had never played nor even picked up a tennis
racket.7 Instead, he fatefully met Ron Charity, who happened to be one of the most prolific
African-American tennis players in Richmond at the time. It was then, at age seven, when Ashe
would begin to play tennis. By age twelve, Ashe had improved dramatically, and was introduced
to Dr. Robert Johnson. Dr. Johnson was an acclaimed and dedicated tennis coach of young,
African American players, including Althea Gibson who would become the first African
3
Arthur Ashe and Neil Amdur, Off the Court (New York: New American Library, 1981), 19 and Sundiata Djata,
“Arthur Ashe,” in Blacks at the Net (Syracuse, NY: Syracuse University Press, 2006), 42.
4
Ashe, Off the Court, 22.
5
Ibid., 27.
6
Arthur Ashe and Arnold Rampersad, Days of Grace (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1993), 60.
7
Ashe, Off the Court, 19.
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American of either gender to win a Grand Slam in 1957. He began to consistently train with
Ashe during his teenage years, which resulted in even greater improvements in Ashe’s game.8
Ashe quickly climbed the regional and then national rankings, and by 1958, Ashe was finally
allowed to play in the junior national singles championship where he made the semi-finals. He
would win the tournament his junior year of high school in 1960 and also his senior year in
1961.9
Arthur Ashe’s success as a young African American tennis player came despite
ubiquitous racism that permeated Richmond’s segregated society. Later in life, even after he was
diagnosed with AIDS, Ashe insisted that “being black is the greatest burden I’ve ever had to
bear.”10 His childhood in Richmond epitomized a Southern segregationist society, and as a result,
“growing up black in the South, for survival and protection your antennae were always out.”11
Ashe, like all other blacks of his time, was treated as second-class citizen, forced to sit in the
back of the bus, and go to segregated schools. Playing tennis, too, proved to be a struggle, as he
was barred from playing on most of Richmond’s tennis courts because of his race.12 Ashe
recalled some of his struggles; “As a junior in Richmond, I was barred from playing on most of
the public tennis courts, which were reserved for whites; and the powerful local tennis officials
had tried to kill my game by shutting me out of any competition involving whites.”13
As a teenager, Arthur Ashe learned to cope and even excel in the South’s segregationist
society. From early on, his father would not allow Arthur Jr. to use race as an excuse or as a
8
Ibid., 33-42.
Childress Boyd, “Arthur Ashe (1943-1993),” in Encyclopedia Virginia,
http://www.EncyclopediaVirginia.org/Ashe_Arthur_1943-1993 (accessed April 8, 2012).
10
Ashe, Days of Grace, 126.
11
Ashe, Off the Court, 22.
12
Ashe, Days of Grace, 137.
13
Ibid., 61.
9
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crutch; “There was little grey in my father’s world. His rules were black or white, right or wrong,
without regard to race.”14 Even if not an excuse, race was undeniably a factor to be reckoned
with, particularly in the tennis world. But Ashe’s tennis mentor Dr. Robert Johnson knew all too
well the obstacles; he was committed to developing successful black tennis players in part
because he wanted to offset racist notions that African Americans were inferior at a “white
man’s” game.15 Johnson taught Ashe and his other students to “be clean and neat, work hard,
demonstrate impeccable manners, and do not cause trouble.” These were seemingly the exact
same characteristics demanded of him by his father, so the lessons were very much committed to
his memory by a young age. Johnson even went so far as to demand his players go out of their
way to be courteous, such as picking up stray balls, or calling balls in that may have been
narrowly out. Johnson believed that respect and courtesy were obligatory to gain respect and to
eliminate excuses for mistreatment by Whites. These lessons were critical to Ashe’s
development as a tennis player, but maybe even more so as a human being and as a future
activist.16
Arthur Ashe Jr. was very much influenced by his namesake and his tennis coaches, as
well as the effects of living through segregation and racism. Combined, these teachings and the
social environment surrounding them helped create a man of “grace, class, and intellectual
curiosity.”17 Growing up with these influences, Ashe learned to tread softly and oppose
aggression and hostility. Ashe’s activism later in life is shaped by this juxtaposition between
being non-confrontational and wanting to make an impact for both himself and his race.
14
Ashe, Off the Court, 22.
Thomas, Damion, “The Quiet Militant,” in Out of the Shadows, ed. David D. Wiggins (Fayetteville, AR: University
of Arkansas Press, 2006), 282.
16
Ibid., 282.
17
Cecil Harris and Larryette Kyle-DeBose, “He was exactly who we needed at the time,” in Charging the Net
(Chicago: Ivan R. Dee, 2007), 76.
15
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Entrenched in an adherence to the ethical standards of his father and mentor, Ashe dedicated his
life not to violence but to education, not to loud disagreements but more quiet, yet diligent work
towards proving the necessity for positive change. As Ashe stated, “I wanted to make a
difference, however small, in the world and I wanted to do so in a useful and honorable way.”18
By being honorable, Ashe wanted to fulfill his perceived obligations as a black man of influence
without compromising his personal integrity. This innate desire, along with his personality
sculpted by the people and places closest to him, profoundly impacted his dedication to social
activism throughout his adult years.19
In 1960, Arthur Ashe accepted an invitation to live in Saint Louis, Missouri to pursue
tennis. By moving to Saint Louis, Ashe could improve his chances for success in the sport.20
Ashe enrolled at Sumner High School, where he soon received a scholarship to play at the
University of California-Los Angeles. Ashe thrived at UCLA as a part of the best tennis program
in the nation, as well as individually as the 1965 individual NCAA champion. As an amateur, he
first made the Davis Cup squad in 1963, and would become an important player, and later coach,
for the United States. Ashe enrolled in UCLA’s ROTC program, and upon graduation he joined
the Army for two years (1966-1968) while still playing championship-level tennis. During the
1960s, Arthur Ashe was focused on his budding professional career and serving his country
through the armed forces. The cause of civil rights and integration made significant progress
during this time period; however, Ashe was focused primarily on his career, future, and
patriotism rather than activism.
18
Ashe, Days of Grace, 43.
Ibid., 48.
20
Boyd, “Arthur Ashe (1943-1993).”
19
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1968 was arguably one of the busiest years in American history, and it may have been
one of the most important and successful of Arthur’s tennis career. Still with “amateur” status,
Ashe defeated a Dutchman Tom Okker to become the first and only African American to win the
men’s U.S Open title in New York City. The triumph was satisfying vindication for a man who
had become a pioneer and inspiring symbol of resiliency. But on a personal level, Ashe’s victory
at the U.S. Open was a proud moment for a proud father, who had watched Arthur Jr. over the
years become a responsible, respected young man who battled racial discrimination with class
and dignity. His son’s victory at Forrest Hills was the first time he had cried since his wife and
mother of two had passed away back in 1950. But this time, these were tears of joy.21
1968-1972:
To this point in his life, Arthur Ashe was not an activist. Ashe cared very much for his
community and race, and he was certainly an influential pioneer by becoming the first Black man
to win a Grand Slam tennis tournament. But becoming a vocal and influential anti-apartheid
activist was not a forgone conclusion. In evaluating why Arthur Ashe became so involved in
South Africa, it is equally as important to pose a different, striking question: Why was Arthur
Ashe NOT as involved in domestic racial activism?
Despite his recent success on the tennis court, Arthur Ashe was unsatisfied with his role
as a black man in the United States. He felt exasperated and unfulfilled, possessed by an innate
obligation to promote change with his status and celebrity, but also a constant commitment to
tennis. In his autobiography Days of Grace, Ashe recalled his frustrations: “I felt a burning sense
of shame that I was not with other blacks-and whites-standing up to the fire hoses and the police
21
Ashe, Off the Court, 20.
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dogs…as my fame increased, so did my anguish. I knew that many blacks were proud of my
accomplishments on the tennis court. But I also knew that some others...did not bother to hide
their indifference…or even their disdain and contempt of me.”22 Ashe found it immensely
difficult to satisfy both his tennis and activist obligations. “You can do clinics-and I’ve done my
share- but you can never do enough. They want you to be great as well as spend all your free
time in the black community, and you can’t do both….Muhammad Ali didn’t do it, Martin
Luther King didn’t do it, no one’s done it. It can’t be done.”23 By the late 1960s, Arthur Ashe felt
that successes on the tennis court came at the expense of his social obligations.
Another element of Ashe’s frustrations stemmed from the changing cultural environment
of the late 1960s. Ashe’s victory in 1968 came in a year of great social strife in the United States,
characterized by assassinations, racial tension, and the rise of the Black Power movement.
Championed by Stokley Carmichael and Malcolm X, Black Power aggressively campaigned for
racial pride and black political and cultural institutions. Black Power was promoted by many of
his fellow athletes like Muhammad Ali, Tommy Smith, and even fellow UCLA alum Lew
Alcindor.24 The rhetoric of militancy in the Black Power movement greatly clashed with him. As
historian Damian Thomas explains, Arthur Ashe was “socialized into (a) tradition of deference
and emotional control.”25 He had been trained from an early age to be non-confrontational
regarding race, and was taught that the best way to fight the segregationist policies was to get an
education and prove one’s worth in society.26 The “revolt” of the black man, on the other hand,
relied upon confrontation. Many athletes, who had both celebrity and a visible platform, joined
22
Ashe, Days of Grace, 113-114.
Ashe, Off the Court, 60.
24
Ashe, Days of Grace.
25
Thomas, “The Quiet Militant,” 282.
26
Ibid., 289.
23
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the ideology of the Black Power movement. Lew Alcindor, for example, used his “celebrity
status to facilitate change within the black freedom struggle, and he encouraged others to do the
same.”27 Others, like Tommy Smith and John Carlos, created a firestorm with their impromptu
Black Power salute at the 1968 Olympic Games, and arguably the most famous of the Black
Power supporters, Muhammad Ali, refused to be drafted to fight for the United States in the war
against Vietnam. Unlike Ali, Arthur Ashe was profoundly patriotic, and felt desire and even an
obligation to fight for his country. For Ashe, “segregation and racism made me loathe aspects of
the white South but had left me scarcely less of a patriot…Despite segregation, I loved the
United States.”28 Many black athletes like Ali and Alcindor ascribed to the Black Power trend in
the late 1960s, but Ashe would not be one of them.
Although Arthur Ashe certainly was hesitant to provoke “trouble,” he cared very much
for his race and always wanted to make a difference. Arthur Ashe could very well be described
as an athletic disciple of non-violence and Martin Luther King, much like Muhammad Ali was
characterized as Malcolm X’s protégé. But the era of non-violence had passed; its champion,
Martin Luther King, ironically met a violent fate outside a Memphis hotel room. Despite
desegregating, African Americans remained marginalized in American society. The status quo
was unacceptable, and many African-Americans had had enough. Ashe too wanted to make a
difference, but refused to conform to Black Power tactics.
This is the social environment that surrounds the very momentous crossroads in Arthur
Ashe’s young career and life. He was becoming a world-class tennis player, yet he remained
unsatisfied with the direction of African American activism and his role in it. How, then, would
27
John Matthew Smith, “”It’s Not Really My Country”: Lew Alcindor and the Revolt of the Black Athlete,” Journal of
Sport History 36 (Summer 2009), 237.
28
Ashe, Days of Grace, 61.
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Arthur Ashe be able reconcile his desires to remain a focused tennis professional, as well as a
champion for his race, country, and human rights? Just like his unscheduled meeting with Ron
Charity at the tennis courts next to his house, Arthur Ashe stumbled across the answer to this
ultimate question: South Africa.
In June of 1968, Ashe was at a meeting with fellow tennis players when one of them offhandedly mentioned the beginning of a new tournament in the Fall to be held in Johannesburg,
South Africa. Cliff Drysdale, a white South African, casually mentioned to Ashe during that
meeting that his home country would never let him enter because of his race.29 So starting the
following year in 1969, Ashe mailed in his application for a temporary visa. It was
unsurprisingly denied, and future applications met similar fates in 1970, 1971, and 1972 as well.
For Ashe, the anti-apartheid cause would become an ideal foundation for impactful activism that
could be executed on his own terms. According to Ashe, “South Africa was a clearer issue, and I
turned to it almost with relief.”30 Through this newly created South African Open, Ashe could
continue an uninterrupted tennis career while simultaneously engaging himself with important
activism. It was not until 1973, when Ashe was finally allowed to enter South Africa, where his
activism and tennis career could finally meet.
Meanwhile, during the late 1960s and early 1970s, the plight of non-white South Africans
was largely unknown by the American populace. The United States had a working partnership
with the South African government for decades, and anti-apartheid sentiments were largely
overshadowed by both the United States’ economic interests as well as America’s own racial
inequalities. But there was a history of Americans against apartheid, albeit small: For those who
29
30
Ibid., 103-104.
Ibid., 115.
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wanted apartheid to end, many believed the legacy of Dr. Martin Luther King and non-violence
in the United States provided an effective blueprint to eventually end apartheid.31 Conveniently,
this strategy suited Ashe, who preferred the tactics of non-violence and civil disobedience. But
the apartheid issue had little clout before the 1960s because of America’s own racial struggle,
and apartheid would not enter the American consciousness until the 1970s at the earliest.
An organized anti-apartheid strategy was far from developed before 1973 when Arthur
Ashe went to South Africa. A prominent anti-apartheid voice would eventually rise through
African Americans in Congress, but not until after the Voting Rights Act of 1965. By 1969, a
united voice against apartheid finally emerged through the creation of the Congressional Black
Caucus. For the first time, black Americans had influence and a voice regarding foreign affairs.32
Its influence, however, was minimal; a bill had been introduced in 1972 by two members of the
Congressional Black Caucus, calling for the divestment of American corporations in South
Africa, but the initiative was quietly unsuccessful. Ron Dellums, one of the co-sponsors of the
bill recalled that “challenging corporate America’s participation in South Africa and their right to
make money…this was not on everybody’s big radar screen. It was not a popular issue.”33 The
anti-apartheid cause remained undeveloped and undervalued by the time Arthur Ashe was finally
granted a visa to enter South Africa in 1973.
The South African Open- November, 1973:
After years of rejected visa applications, the South African government finally allowed
Arthur Ashe to enter the country for the sixth-annual South African Open in Johannesburg,
31
Francis N. Nesbitt, Race for Sanctions (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 2004), 30-31.
Ibid., 71.
33
Connie Field, “Apartheid and the Club of the West,” in Have You Heard From Johannesburg?, DVD (Franklin
Lakes, NJ: Charity Educational Productions, Inc., 2006).
32
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South Africa in late November, 1973. Upon arrival on November 17th, Arthur Ashe became one
of the first “truly free” black men to enter the closed off nation of South Africa. On the
professional front, Ashe reached the finals of the South African Open with relative ease,
including a monumentally historic, straight set defeat of a prominent, white South African in his
home country.34 Meanwhile, he tried his best to focus amid swirling positive and negative
energy. He came to learn about apartheid, and to engage with the people affected by it. The
livelihood of black South Africans deeply disturbed, yet motivated Arthur Ashe and his future in
activism. By his departure, Ashe’s spirit had perturbed some, but uplifted most. His visit had a
monumental impact both in South Africa, and in the future of the anti-apartheid movement.
It is important to first recognize that Arthur Ashe’s main goal in 1973 was tennis. He was
an upstanding professional, and his primary goal was to perform well at the South African
Open.35 For example, Ashe decided to stay in a white person’s house while in South Africa
rather than in a black neighborhood to ensure a comfortable, safe place to prepare to win tennis
matches. Ashe knew the symbolism of staying in a white person’s house, seemingly supporting
the minority: “I did not come to South Africa in sackcloth and ashes to serve penance. I know
damn well how badly the Africans in this country live, but I cannot see how it would serve any
useful purpose for me to live like one myself.”36 Unlike after his career when Ashe could devote
a significant portion of his life to public servitude for social and cultural causes, he was
undoubtedly a professional tennis player first and foremost, and his impact on South African
activism would be affected accordingly.
34
“Ashe Gains Tennis Final in S. Africa,” New York Times, 25 November, 1973.
Arthur Ashe and Frank DeFord, Portrait in Motion (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Company, 1975), 116-120.
36
Ibid., 118.
35
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Tennis might have been his primary job, but there is no doubt that Arthur Ashe was
immersed in the issue of apartheid from the moment he first arrived in Johannesburg. Ashe
immediately took notice of the plight of the impoverished black South African, who seems to be
just “walking-and walking slowly, as if they really (had) no other place to go.37 Ashe was taken
back to his childhood days growing up in a segregated society, seeing the chilling DAMAS
BLANKES (Whites-Only in Afrikaans) signs and segregated neighborhoods.38 A prominent
billboard that overlooked the court at historic Ellis Park constantly reminded Ashe of race during
his matches. It was an advertisement for Black & White Scotch whiskey, and it read: (It’s) Time
to Serve Black and White.39 It was not simply an advertisement, rather a symbolic reminder of
how significant and racially uniting Ashe’s trip could be. Said Boston Globe columnist Bud
Collins, “was it prophetic? No, just a whiskey billboard. But maybe the time is coming...”40 Ashe
felt connected to the predicament of black South Africans and understood the importance of
exploring the real elements of the Apartheid regime and making a difference.
Arthur Ashe understood that “as a black athlete and black person, I could not go to South
Africa solely for athletic purposes. I had to go there, look around, absorb all I could about the
place, and publicize my feelings.”41 Ashe guaranteed his ability to make a difference as an
activist by demanding four very specific conditions for his visa acceptance. Ashe insisted that
there would be no segregated seating at his matches, and that he would not possess any
“honorary white” status while traveling. Additionally, he would not be required to stay in any
segregated area or be confined from travelling to any specific area; this stipulation allowed Ashe
37
Ibid., 117.
Ibid., 119.
39
Mark Mathabane, Kaffir Boy (New York: Macmillan, 1986), 223.
40
Bud Collins, “Ashe in South Africa: Did he open a door?,” Boston Globe, 5 December, 1973.
41
Ashe, Off the Court, 148.
38
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to visit black townships and meet people in the community. Perhaps most importantly, he
required the Apartheid government to allow him the ability to speak freely, both while in South
Africa as well as after his trip to reflect upon his true experiences.42 These concessions were
critical because they guaranteed him the ability to hold tennis clinics, visit families, and learn
from South Africans themselves about the Apartheid regime and its widespread effects.
Arthur Ashe received mixed support for his endeavor to South Africa, but many major
American journalists who covered his excursion were supportive. New York Times columnist
Peter Hawthorne, for example, praised his presence as a sign that “apartheid is wearing thin at
the edges.”43 Ashe’s procurement of a visa would allow “South Africa (a) chance to start
crawling down off its apartheid wall.”44 He was supported by the tennis community, most
notably Cliff Drysdale and Ray Moore, two white South African tennis players.45 Additionally,
he was praised by two renowned American sports journalists that physically traveled with him to
South Africa in 1973, Frank DeFord (Sports Illustrated), and Bud Collins (Boston Globe).
DeFord supported Arthur’s tactics, and emphatically claimed that because of Ashe, “for a
moment, the clouds of prejudice had parted.46 Collins too consistently praised Ashe’s efforts to
engage black and white South Africans, as well as Ashe’s moderate temperament, arguing that
any more forwardness or aggression would be counterproductive.47 The common belief among
supporters was that Ashe is doing his best and is helping the anti-apartheid cause, even if its
policies still remained noticeably intact.
42
Harris, “He was exactly who we needed,” 84.
Peter Hawthorne, “Ashe Match and Foster Bout Mean More Erosion of Apartheid,” New York Times, 10
November, 1973.
44
“Visa For Ashe Important in More Than Sports Arena,” Baltimore Afro-American, 10 January, 1970.
45
Ashe, Off the Court and Ashe, Portrait in Motion.
46
Frank DeFord, “Lull Beneath the Jacaranda Tree,” Sports Illustrated, 10 December, 1973.
47
Bud Collins, “Ashe gains South African Final,” Boston Globe, 25 November, 1973 and “Ashe in South Africa: Did
He Open a Door?,” Boston Globe, 5 December, 1973.
43
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Some were skeptical of journalists like Deford and Collins, who seemed to place Ashe on
a pedestal of greatness. In an editorial to the New York Times, Robert F. King of New York City
questioned supporters’ heartfelt compassion for him. King supported Ashe but believed that the
esteem granted to him from the white media regarding his quietness and passivity was both
overstated and condescending.48 King’s perspective is an interesting one; did the white media
support Ashe because of his passion of social activism, or is it mired in a sense of relief
regarding Ashe’s “quietness” that was less provocative and did not make the white man look as
bad? After all, even though Arthur Ashe did appreciate the support and attention paid by white
journalists, he did wish an African American journalist had accompanied him to South Africa as
well.49 While there is not a significant mass that outwardly shares this opinion, it is fair to say
that Ashe’s brand of activism seemed more acceptable to a white audience who may have felt
disenchanted with the revolting mentality of the late 1960s Black Power legacy.
Others questioned the value of Ashe’s trip to South Africa in light of recent developments
within international sport. Many felt that he was being used by the Apartheid government to
rectify previous sports-related embarrassments, like when South Africa was banned from Davis
Cup competition in 1971.50 One editorial claimed that Ashe and international athletics had a
significant responsibility to demand change because the “sports community is proving more
effective than the international political community in letting (South Africa) know that its policy
of racial separatism is repugnant and rejected by the outside world.”51
48
Robert F. King, Letter to the Editor: “Arthur Ashe and the Problems Growing Up Black,” New York Times, 8 June,
1975.
49
Ashe, Portrait in Motion, 115.
50
Amy Bass, Not the Triumph but the Struggle (City: Pub, date), 282.
51
“Isolating Apartheid,” New York Times, 27 May, 1970.
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Ashe’s participation in the South African Open undermined previous boycotting efforts
by the international sports community. South African Cliff Drysdale, who Ashe defeated in the
semi-finals of the South African Open, called Ashe’s trip “window-dressing,” and was skeptical
of his country’s sincerity despite supporting Ashe otherwise.52 George M. Houser, the Executive
Director of the American Committee on Africa wrote a letter to the New York Times
condemning Ashe’s trip, claiming that “it is a mistake (because) it helps South Africa chalk up a
public relations victory without changing the basic pattern and evil of apartheid.”53
Although Ashe recognized the possibility of his visit as a way for the South African
government to improve its own image, he felt his presence was important nonetheless. He felt he
could help chip away at apartheid traditions, and the U.S. Civil Rights Movement was proof that
“progress does not come in huge chunks. It comes bit by bit.”54 This approach, however, was not
universally received by black South Africans. In South Africa, blacks were in the majority, yet
were subjected to even more abhorrent conditions than African Americans had ever seen. They
argued that Rosa Parks, for example, would be immediately banned or punished rather than
becoming a symbol for mass change, and felt that the severity of the Apartheid condition
warranted a different, more aggressive plan of attack that Ashe was uncomfortable with.55 Many
others also supported the idea that Ashe’s presence legitimized the Apartheid government. Ashe
remembers their arguments: “You come here…and the situation remains unchanged. The black
man still has his place.” “If we isolate them, they’re forced to change.” “Your presence delays
52
Bud Collins, “Ashe in South Africa: Did He Open a Door?,” Boston Globe, 5 December, 1973.
George Houser, Letter to the Editor: “Appalled at Blacks’ Trip to South Africa,” New York Times, 25 November,
1973.
54
Ashe, Portrait in Motion, 127.
55
Ibid.
53
Yavorski 17
our struggle.” He was called an “Uncle Tom,” a “sellout and a stooge.”56 Cliff Drysdale tried to
explain to Ashe the basis of this negativity, that many in South Africa who “accept the
hypothesis that all this must end in violence (believe) that any visit from an outsider (or) any
dealings with the government only prolongs that agony.”57 Arthur, however, disagreed with his
dissenters, claiming that it would do no good for foreigners like him to simply “stand outside and
just watch you suffer.”58
Not all black South Africans disapproved of his trip. Many, like a small South African
boy named Mark Mathabane, were inspired by the hope and optimism Ashe represented. During
one of Ashe’s tennis clinics in black township of Soweto, Ashe noticed this small boy tailing his
every move. The boy looked on in awe, captivated by his aura of confidence. When Ashe finally
approached him, he told Ashe that he was “the first truly free black man” he had ever seen.59 In
his acclaimed auto-biography Kaffir Boy, Mathabane remembers when “we blacks in South
Africa looked up to, and worshipped, people like Ashe….All we wanted them to do was to be
true to the realities of their color, to show concern for our plight, to not condone or appear to
condone apartheid, to come out to the ghettos and meet us, because so few of us had the means
to go see them perform.”60 Ashe was the only athlete of that time to satisfy these desires,
elevating him to super-stardom among many black South Africans. Ashe was a Sipho (or gift in
Zulu), who inspired Mathabane to one day use tennis to escape his impoverished and segregated
roots to get an education in the United States- he would eventually fulfill that goal.61
56
Ashe, Off the Court, 73 and Harris, “He was exactly who we needed,” 83.
Ashe, Portrait in Motion, 121.
58
Ibid., 126-127.
59
Ashe, Days of Grace, 120.
60
Mathabane, Kaffir Boy, 232.
61
Ibid., 238.
57
Yavorski 18
Arthur Ashe’s thirteen day trip in 1973 displayed his unique brand of activism among
American athletes. Many describe his tactics as cerebral and quieter. Said Cliff Drysdale, “his
activism was more of an intellectual kind. My sense about him was that he wanted to change
things from within the system.”62 Drysdale’s description of change “within the system” is
important, implying that Ashe preferred the Apartheid government to change its policies without
violent confrontation rather than the populace violently demanding a change. Much of Ashe’s
activism early in his career was part education- part opinion, and was less focused on immediate
action. He was more subtle than the “revolting athletes” of the late 1960s or even the athletic
pioneers of the 1950s like Jackie Robinson.63 Ashe’s activism was distinctively enigmatic in that
he was neither openly accusatory nor loud while in South Africa, yet there was no doubt of his
compassion and desires for change. His activism against the apartheid would evolve in the
coming decade, even to the point where Ashe began to realize and even share some of the
dissenting opinions he withstood in 1973.
1974-1984:
The pinnacle of Arthur Ashe’s tennis career occurred on July 5, 1975 on the grass courts
of Wimbledon. Arthur Ashe out-smarted a much stronger, faster, and younger Jimmy Connors,
ironically taking pace off of his shots and employing the tennis version of a “rope-a-dope”
strategy reminiscent of Black Power supporter Muhammad Ali. His upset was celebrated in
South Africa, where headlines of his victory read: “Ashe Paints Wimbledon Black.” Mark
Mathabane described the child-like jubilation in his homeland, where “every black man, woman
62
63
Harris, “He was exactly who we needed,” 80.
Frank DeFord, “The Once and Future Diplomat,” Sports Illustrated, 1 March, 1971.
Yavorski 19
and child felt proud. We had achieved the ultimate triumph in a white man’s sport.”64 Winning
Wimbledon would become Ashe’s most famous tournament victory, but it would only represent
one of fifty-one total tournament wins throughout his professional career. Ashe reached at least
the finals of 31% of the tournaments he played in, and amassed a 75% winning percentage over
his consistently impressive eleven year career.65 Amidst his continued on-court success, Ashe
increased his off-court activism after his initial South Africa trip in 1973. He returned to South
Africa three times in four years following that first South African Open, and continued to learn
and create a dialogue about South Africa and its racial policies.66 In his subsequent trips, he
helped create the Black Tennis Foundation and the Javabu Tennis Complex in Soweto, and even
met with Piet Koornhof, a member of the cabinet of the Apartheid regime.67 His full-time athletic
career would come to a disturbing and unexpected end in the summer of 1979. While hosting a
tennis clinic for inner-city youth, he suffered a heart attack and was forced to undergo quadruple
bypass surgery at thirty-six years old.68 Arthur Ashe retired from the sport of tennis on April 16,
1980.
Now retired from tennis competition, Arthur Ashe was faced with yet another midlife
crisis of sorts, much like 1968 when he grappled with tennis and activism. In this chapter of his
life, what he called the “middle passage” in his autobiography, Arthur struggled to come to
terms with the stark end to his tennis career and his somewhat forced retirement, a common
feeling among many successful athletes. Negotiating the beginning of this middle passage
64
Mathabane, Kaffir Boy, 288.
Ashe, Off the Court, 222-223.
66
Ashe, Days of Grace, 104.
67
Ashe, Off the Court, 151, 165.
68
Boyd, “Arthur Ashe (1943-1993).”
65
Yavorski 20
became a struggle, what he described as a “developing crisis.”69 He even paid visits to a local
psychiatrist to help organize his thoughts; Ashe suddenly had more expendable time than ever
before, and he wanted to remain productive.70 Said Ashe, “I believe that I was destined to do
more than hit tennis balls. The abrupt end of my tennis career only accelerated my search for
another way I can make a contribution. I don’t want to be remembered mainly because I won
Wimbledon.”71 He struggled to come to terms with life in activism, having “guiltily nursed the
suspicion that I had not done as much as I should have...”72 Ashe resolved to become a more
involved activist and increase pressure on a South African nation mired by the stagnation of antiapartheid movements around the world.
Meanwhile, the optimistic claim that the apartheid system was “wearing thin at the
edges” was a mirage, a fantasy constructed by those who hoped to see racial discrimination
quietly disappear. Although the South African government had backed away from their athletic
isolation (evidenced by Arthur Ashe’s trip in 1973) such flexibility did not translate to other
sectors of South African society. It continued its “uncompromising stance on suppressing
internal dissent,”73 by marginalizing proud voices of black South Africans like the African
National Congress (ANC) and the Pan Africanist Congress. One method of the Apartheid
government’s ostracism was the creation of new “African” homelands called Bantustans, the first
being the “state” of Transkei in 1976. This new policy was enacted by the Apartheid government
to “graciously” create independent nation-states outside South African jurisdiction where black
South Africans were forced to live. Most, however, recognized that the policy only exposed the
69
Ashe, Days of Grace, 39.
Ibid., 49.
71
Ashe, Off the Court, 214.
72
Ashe, Days of Grace, 40.
73
Alex Thomson, U.S. Foreign Policy Towards Apartheid South Africa, 1948-1994 (New York: Palgrave MacMillan,
2008), 64-65.
70
Yavorski 21
nation’s racist ideology.74 In 1980, Arthur Ashe (who was captain of the United States Davis
Cup team) risked alienating his top player John McEnroe by insisting that the tennis star not play
an exhibition match against Swedish super-star Bjorn Borg in Bophuthatswana, another
“dummy” state created by the South African government in 1977. Ashe was asking a young,
feisty McEnroe to sacrifice lots of money to not play because of what Bophuthatswana
represented, and luckily for Ashe, McEnroe agreed to not participate.75
The Apartheid government in South Africa remained frustratingly robust during the
1970s, and as a result violence against the regime’s racist policies began to spurt up across South
Africa. On June 16, 1976, the South African police force massacred unarmed school children and
innocent bystanders in Soweto who were protesting a new federal mandate that required black
schools to use Afrikaans as the sole language of instruction.76 That day resulted in fifty-four
deaths and three hundred others wounded. The Soweto Uprising stimulated an organized
backlash against the government, triggering more violence, deaths, and over 2,400 arrests in just
over one year.77 The Soweto Uprising was widely covered by the American and International
media, and it catalyzed anti-apartheid movements because it was the first main anti-apartheid
event to enter the consciousness of the American public.78
The increasing prominence of African Americans in public discourse, inspired by the
repugnant violence in Soweto in 1976, began to take more tangible action. African Americans in
particular helped establish multiple anti-apartheid interest groups, the most famous and effective
of them named TransAfrica. TransAfrica was established in 1977 by the Congressional Black
74
Ibid.
Ashe, Days of Grace, 108.
76
Nesbitt, Race for Sanctions, 97-98.
77
Ibid., 98.
78
Ibid., 97-98 and Field, “Apartheid and the Club of the West.”
75
Yavorski 22
Caucus, who by now had gained even more political clout in Congress.79 The group, led by a
young lawyer and activist by the name of Randall Robinson, “marked a turning point in the antiapartheid movement and signaled the coming of age of African Americans in foreign policy.”80
Ironically, Robinson was childhood friends with Arthur Ashe while growing up in Richmond,
and it was because of this relationship that Arthur Ashe got turned onto helping their cause,
including becoming a board member of the organization.81 Part of what made TransAfrica
successful, besides its support from blacks in Congress and its “high level of black
consciousness” was its ability to mobilize black leaders, both political and other leading figures
like Arthur Ashe.82 Much of Arthur Ashe’s activism during the 1980s would be facilitated by the
work of TransAfrica.
The rise of the African American voice and anti-apartheid movements directly clashed
with the election of Ronald Reagan as President of the United States in January 1981, whose
administration created a new policy toward South Africa called Constructive Engagement.
Constructive Engagement described an increased economic investment and support of the South
African government. This change of policy was not racially charged like some surmised; in fact,
it was established under the theory that boycotts and economic sanctions would
disproportionately hurt impoverished black and colored South Africans more than help them.83
There was a new wave of anti-communist defiance with Reagan’s election, and he wanted badly
to rid the United States of a lingering “Vietnam Syndrome” that plagued the U.S. previously in
79
Nesbitt, Race for Sanctions, 99.
Ibid., 103.
81
Ashe, Days of Grace, 7.
82
Nesbitt, Race for Sanctions, 99.
83
Field, “Apartheid and the Club of the West.”
80
Yavorski 23
the Cold War.84 Constructive Engagement helped maintain what they perceived as a vital
geopolitical position, at the expense of helping prolong South Africa’s bigotry and suppression.85
Not surprisingly, the administration was out of touch with black and grassroots sentiments, and
unlike Arthur Ashe in 1973 no dialogues were even entertained by the U.S. government.86 The
Reagan administration refused to admit that its Constructive Engagement policy alienated the
victims of apartheid.
Even if the policy was designed with good intentions, the lack of tangible evidence of a
change in the status quo pitted the policy as an enemy of the anti-apartheid movement.87
Disillusionment with Constructive Engagement and the Reagan administration among black
Americans became the driving impetus of the anti-apartheid activism. Walter Fauntroy, a
congressman from Washington D.C. who later became a strong proponent of anti-apartheid
movements, said “with (President) Carter, groups like the TransAfrica Forum began to get an
ear…that was aborted rather quickly when Reagan came into power.”88 Many felt that Reagan
was “noticeably skewed towards overseas business interests,” and that the government grew to
represent the ruling class rather than the working class or the everyday African American.89
These feelings coexisted with disturbing empirical evidence of profound racial inequalities that
existed during the Reagan presidency: Unemployment rates for African Americans were roughly
twice that of whites, as were median family incomes. Teenage unemployment for black
Americans was twice that of whites of a similar age. As journalist Allan Fotheringham
84
Thomson, U.S. Foreign Policy Towards Apartheid South Africa, 1948-1994, 114.
Field, “Apartheid and the Club of the West.”
86
Thomson, U.S. Foreign Policy Towards Apartheid South Africa, 1948-1994, 124.
87
Ibid., 111-115.
88
Field, “Apartheid and the Club of the West.”
89
Field, “Apartheid and the Club of the West.”
85
Yavorski 24
eloquently described the situation in the 1980s, “this is really not what Martin Luther King had
in mind for his America.”90
This cynicism of black Americans towards the Reagan administration empowered antiapartheid movements to seek transparent tactics in enacting change. Shortly after President
Reagan was elected for his second term over his democratic opponent and civil rights leader
Jesse Jackson, TransAfrica’s leadership saw an opportunity to take its activism to another level.
On November 21, 1984, four African-American leaders (including the previously mentioned
congressman Walter Fauntroy and TransAfrica founder Randall Robinson) arranged a meeting at
the South African consulate in Washington D.C., and then refused to leave.91 This event sparked
a huge series of arrests, protests, in sit-ins outside the South African embassy in Washington
D.C. for months, and its success influenced the creation of other anti-apartheid groups, such as
Athletes and Artists Against Apartheid (started by Arthur Ashe and Harry Belafonte to convince
entertainers from performing or playing in South Africa) and the Divestment movement.
Sprouting up across the nation on college campuses, the concept of divestment was designed to
pressure universities to pull pension fund investments from corporations that did business in
apartheid South Africa.92 The leadership exemplified by TransAfrica and the Free South Africa
Movement would prove to be critical in changing the perspective of anti-apartheid activism.
Additionally, involvement from elected black officials and respected African Americans like
Arthur Ashe helped legitimize the issue and incite support for the cause.
Part of what made the Free South Africa movement so salient and inspiring was its
resemblances with the Civil Rights movement roughly two decades earlier. It drew comparisons
90
Allan Fotheringham, “His ‘Dream’ Sullied After 17 Years,” Ottawa Citizen, 18 January, 1985.
Nesbitt, Race for Sanctions, 123-124.
92
Ibid., 124.
91
Yavorski 25
to Dr. Martin Luther King’s struggle not just in spirit but tactically as well. Adwoa DunnMouton, who worked with TransAfrica, emphasized this historical homage; “We exist because
of the Civil Rights movement. And we can show that all of the work that we did has some fruit.
The fruit is our ability to try to impact policy.”93 The movement was non-violent yet boisterous,
and it galvanized black support and spread to make an almost instantaneous impact. The
movement grew to include many powerful celebrities, including Arthur Ashe, Jesse Jackson,
Coretta Scott King, Rosa Parks, and Stevie Wonder. Also, there is no doubt that the Free South
Africa Movement seemingly fit Arthur Ashe’s personality and desirable methods of activism.
This newer Civil Rights movement allowed Ashe a chance to rectify previous inabilities to be
more involved: “While blood was running freely in the streets of Birmingham, Memphis, and
Biloxi, I had been playing tennis. Dressed in immaculate white, I was elegantly stroking tennis
balls…(while in) the south, young men and women of my age were enduring pain and suffering
so that blacks would be free of our American brand of apartheid.”94 Ashe desperately wanted to
become a leader and important figure in social activism, and the Free South African Movement
provided a golden opportunity to fulfill his vigor for activism as well as legitimately help a
growing anti-apartheid movement.
The Arrest (January 11th, 1985) and its Aftermath:
Less than two months after the start of the Free South Africa movement, Arthur Ashe was
called upon by his good friend Randall Robinson to join the cause. On January 11th 1985, Arthur
Ashe donned a “Freedom YES Apartheid NO” sign and marched to the South African embassy
93
94
Field, “Apartheid and the Club of the West.”
Ashe, Days of Grace, 113.
Yavorski 26
in Washington D.C.95 After refusing to leave, Ashe was arrested just like any other criminal. But
this was not just any other crime; Ashe’s arrest was emblematic of an anti-apartheid movement
that was finally beginning to gain some traction.
His arrest that cold day in Washington D.C. was an important moment, for he had never
been arrested nor had he ever gotten into any significant trouble. This was a victory for his
father, Arthur Sr., who raised his son not to cause trouble, as it could have been devastating for a
black person in the segregated Richmond. So being arrested, even if only temporarily, was
significant for Ashe and his father. He called his father the night before, saying “Daddy, I want
you to know that I’m probably going to get arrested tomorrow, in Washington.” His father’s
voice seemed nervous, but he replied “Well son, I don’t know. South Africa’s an awful long way
from us here. But if you think you have to do it, then I guess you have to do it.”96 In Arthur Ashe
Jr.’s mind, there was no doubt that he had to do it.
Unlike his South Africa trip in 1973, Arthur Ashe was not the main focal point of the
events of January 11, 1985. But his arrest proved that he was willing to be provocative, to break
rules to make a statement. He was not the key, fundamental cog that changed the anti-apartheid
movement, rather his actions that day were one in a series. Ashe himself understood that his
arrest was not particularly heroic or individually critical to the vitality of the movement. As Ashe
remembered, “no one knew better than I that a demonstration such as the one in Washington,
when I was arrested, was mainly a staged or token affair, a piece of political choreography. I did
not feel in any way like a hero for taking part in it.”97 After all, he was arrested that same day
95
Karlyn Barker, “Arthur Ashe Jailed in Apartheid Protest,” Washington Post, 12 January, 1985 .
Ashe, Days of Grace, 112.
97
Ibid.
96
Yavorski 27
with sixteen others, including teachers, municipal workers, and trade union officials.98 But
involvement from concerned and notorious African Americans like Arthur Ashe was important.
Said Cecelie Counts, who helped organize higher-profile arrests like that of Arthur Ashe, “The
notion of getting arrested was very frightening to a lot of people…so we figured we’d better try
and find some celebrities. People like Harry Belafonte and Arthur Ashe had the kind of stature to
call their peers and say would you do this?99 Celebrities getting arrested became critical because
it gave normal people more courage to participate, which in turn substantially grew the
magnitude of the Free South Africa Movement.
There is no doubt that the civil disobedience of early 1985 was having its effects on the
anti-apartheid dialogue. The movement was critical in changing perceptions of South Africa,
moving away from an anti-communist geopolitical issue to a racial, human rights issue. Said
Randall Robinson, “many Americans knew nothing about Apartheid before the demonstrations
began. Now there is an understanding of South African repression.”100 The protests from people
like Ashe would also began to influence lawmakers in Washington D.C, who would soon begin
to construct strong sanction proposals against the Apartheid regime.101
Most found Arthur Ashe’s involvement and arrest in 1985 to be positive news, but there
was speculation that his appointment as Davis Cup captain was terminated because of it. In the
fall of 1985, speculation surfaced that the U.S.T.A might have been displeased with Ashe’s
“radicalism” or lack of focus on the job, even though most others found Ashe’s protests to be
completely reasonable. In an interview with Jet Magazine, Ashe wondered aloud if his protesting
98
Ibid., 111.
Field, “Apartheid and the Club of the West.”
100
Nesbitt, Race for Sanctions, 134.
101
“Kennedy Cancels African Rally After Protest,” Washington Post, 14 January, 1985.
99
Yavorski 28
“had something to do with their not asking me back for next year. No one at the U.S. Tennis
Association said it to my face, but I’ve heard that from other sources.”102 Even if Ashe felt he
was fired from the Davis Cup because of his “radical” politics, there is no doubt that most found
the Free South Africa Movement to be understandable rather than radical. It is important to
understand that being arrested as a part of the Free South Africa Movement was not a
particularly risky affair, and hardly anyone would legitimately disagree with the Free South
Africa Movement on moral grounds.103 When arrested, punishments were described as “genteel
arrest situations” and “pain free policing.”104 The Free South Africa Movement, unlike Ashe’s
activism in 1973, was generally accepted as a legitimate means to promote change.
Arthur Ashe’s arrest in 1985 was indicative of his changing brand of activism. He had
become a more vocal, involved leader. Most telling was his support for sanctions and boycotts,
tactics that he had not supported a decade earlier. Ashe admitted that going to South Africa in
1973 may not have been as helpful as he had hoped, and he began to recognize some of the
opinions of his doubters back in 1973, that maybe he really was legitimizing the system by not
boycotting the Apartheid regime.105 Ashe would not have been compelled to get arrested in 1973
as a younger man trying to make his way as a tennis player. He had advocated for contact and
dialogue in 1973, but now became convinced like many others that the United States needed to
demand change to the status quo and explicitly challenge racist apartheid policies. This change in
activism, however, seemed to precipitate change that Ashe was finally proud of: “By 1985, I
102
“Ashe Says Activist Role May Be Part Of His Ouster As Davis Cup Team Captain,” Jet Magazine, 11 November,
1985.
103
Ashe, Days of Grace, 110-111 and Lisa Lindsay, interview by author, Chapel Hill, NC, March 21, 2012.
104
John Ross, “Very Civil Disobedience is Very In,” Baltimore Sun, 16 June, 1985.
105
Djata, “Arthur Ashe,” 61-62.
Yavorski 29
was at last satisfied that the anti-apartheid movement, once exotic, was blossoming in
America.”106
(1985-1993):
The momentum of the Free South Africa Movement ultimately, yet still slowly, forced
changes in the United States’ Constructive Engagement policy, and in turn in South Africa’s
apartheid policy. Constructive Engagement still represented American policy towards South
Africa for all of 1985 and most of 1986, even amidst popular protests. But even so, it became
clear that the Reagan administration had “lost control of American policy towards South Africa,
completely and probably irrevocably.”107 By the fall of 1986, sanctions had finally pushed their
way through Congress in the form of the Anti-Apartheid Act of 1986. President Reagan vetoed
the bill, but his veto was overridden on October 1, 1986. This superseding of Executive power
was embarrassing moment, explicitly rejecting Reagan’s claims that Constructive Engagement
was in the best interests of the people of South Africa.108 After years of activism, the United
States was taking critical stance towards separatism in South Africa.
As the 1980s came to a close and the 1990s began, the South African government finally
exhibited signs of a bourgeoning democracy. Meanwhile, Arthur Ashe continued to be an
involved and respected activist, despite some tribulations in his personal life. He had always
coped with inconvenient medical issues, but no news would be more crushing than in 1988,
when he was told he contracted the AIDS virus from a contaminated blood transfusion.109 He
was devastated by the news, but continued to relentlessly press on, even in sickness. Fortunately
106
Ashe, Days of Grace, 111.
Nesbitt, Race for Sanctions, 135.
108
Ibid., 137.
109
Boyd, “Arthur Ashe (1943-1993).”
107
Yavorski 30
for him, one of his ultimate idols Nelson Mandela was finally released from imprisonment to
help transition the South African government towards a democracy, and he had lived to see
apartheid all but dismantled. Arthur Ashe got to meet Mandela after he was welcomed by a
parade through New York City. Remembered Ashe, “I was seldom more proud of my fellow
Americans than when I saw the way we welcomed (Mandela) as a hero. The success of the
parade was a sure and gratifying sign that many people, black and white, rich and poor,
recognized his sacrifice and applaud…his unquenchable moral sense though nearly three decades
of imprisonment.” Very few things would excite Arthur Ashe more than when he first laid eyes
on his idol. Mandela looked directly in his eyes and exclaimed, “Oh my brother…come here!”110
Since 1948, the United States had supported a vicious government that insisted upon
ethnocentric policies. For decades, South Africa was the only nation on Earth that enshrined
racism, denying 70% of its people from voting and participating in public life. 23 million black
South Africans were forced to live on 13% of overcrowded squalor, while 4.7 million whites
controlled 87% of beautiful South African countryside.111 But unlike so many other athletes
before and after him, Arthur Ashe chose to do something about the inequalities that continued to
plague his race. He managed to enjoy a long and illustrious tennis career, while simultaneously
becoming one of the most influential activists of his time. He fulfilled his aspirations of
becoming known not just for his tennis, but for his disciplined, intellectual activism that was
unlike any other.
Arthur Ashe succumbed to AIDS on February 6, 1993 at the age of forty-nine. Shortly
after his death, Ashe laid in honor at the Virginia state capital building in Richmond, becoming
110
111
Ashe, Days of Grace, 120-121.
Henry Scarupa, “Fighter Against Apartheid,” Baltimore Sun, 29 January, 1985.
Yavorski 31
the first person (of any race) honored this way since Confederate war hero Thomas J.
“Stonewall” Jackson in 1863.112 This honor was remarkably emblematic , considering that a
Ashe was only considered a second-class citizen a few decades before. Arthur Ashe might have
died prematurely, but his extraordinary legacy as the ultimate athlete-activist lives on into the
twenty-first century.
112
Boyd, “Arthur Ashe (1943-1993).”