A few weeks ago, a photographer on Twitter announced how difficult his life had become when Formula One star Lewis Hamilton of Mercedes AMG-Petronas was shown visibly uncomfortable with his photos being taken. Rather than acknowledging Hamilton’s right to privacy, as well as the right to feel openly uncomfortable under the intrusive glare of the media, the photographer retorted that it was Hamilton who was making things difficult. As other drivers would happily smile for photos rather than cover their faces, a few commenters agreed that Lewis had an obligation to give back to both the photographers and the fans. This response to Hamilton’s media presence furthers a racialized sense of entitlement over the body, choices, and emotions of Hamilton himself. Such restrained privileges that Black athletes have in public spaces became heavily apparent in the reactions to Hamilton's social media hiatus directly after the controversial Abu Dhabi Grand Prix, the final Formula One race of the 2021 season. The public response to Hamilton’s reaction to his defeat demonstrates a historical desperation of white control over Black bodies and the livelihoods of social Others, and speaks to the pervasive nature of racism in sport which continues to persist today.

Described as the “pinnacle of motorsport,” Formula One (F1) exists as a sport of exclusion and privilege, historically bringing in white drivers from upper socioeconomic backgrounds, making Hamilton’s presence even more significant. As the only Black driver in F1 history, he holds the joint-record for the most championships won and is statistically the most successful driver in the sport. As he was on the road to win a record-breaking eighth title in the last race of the season, a controversial change of the rules in the very last lap took the opportunity away from him and granted the win to his rival Max Verstappen. After shaking his hand with the rival and conceding his loss, Hamilton disappeared from the public eye in dramatic fashion, unfollowing everyone on Instagram and staying away from the cameras as he spent time by himself and with his family, with no one in the F1 world knowing exactly where he was.

Hamilton was initially almost universally commended for his grace in defeat. Former F1 champion David Coulthard said that Hamilton’s reaction "is a fantastic example to sportsmen and women out there on how to handle defeat” and Sky Sports F1 pundit Karun Chandhok similarly noted the “incredibly gracious words by Lewis Hamilton” as a “great example of sportsmanlike behavior.” The sport epitomized the seven-time champion as a model citizen and ideal sportsman. The scene of his sportsmanship demonstrates the violent preference of good behavior. Hamilton was praised in restraint, and as a Black man he did not have the privilege of frustration at his defeat since notions of professionalism, sportsmanship, and grace have racially tinged meanings. Just as Black athletes were hindered from not only sports, but public life, because of their presumed lack of professionalism, Hamilton is only respected as a member of the F1 community when he embodies such a morally upright position of the model citizen. Players in any sport are always commended for “learning to take” mistreatment, bullying, and unfair situations. Yet Black athletes must perpetually endure discomforting situations, which include unfair losses as well as unjust racial abuse, and their traumatic endurance becomes coded as “sportsmanship” and “professionalism.” Any reaction other than composure and grace to their treatment ostracizes them and reframes their character—thus they are condemned to submission.

In the months after Abu Dhabi, it became apparent that the F1 world would not be hearing from Hamilton for a long time. Reversing their stances on the graceful nature of his character, the media soon branded Hamilton as a drama queen and “attention seeking” for refusing to address the evidently hurtful defeat. The reactions to Hamilton’s social media break displayed the racialized interpretations of what is considered “good behavior.” As journalists, pundits, and fans alike frame Hamilton as lacking morals and decorum with his silent response, they buy into stereotypes of Black athletes as showboats, self-centered, and egotistical. But author Vernon Andrews accurately identifies that certain Black expressions and emotions merely abnormalize what is not “normal” and that white social power controls what is considered “appropriate behavior.” Many expected Hamilton to continue to be gracious and happy after an undeserved defeat, rather than acknowledge his right to be aggrieved and express his emotions in his own way. He joins fellow athletes Naomi Osaka and Simone Biles who have also spoken out about mental health and the intrusion on their personal space by their very public athletic environments. The perception of Hamilton as attention-seeking in a time of justified frustration, as well as the unspoken demand that he publicly appears in such a moment, further demonstrates a sense of white entitlement to Black people’s space and time, deriving from a myth that Black people only exist as objects of white people’s pleasure. Condemning him for his reactions when they do not fit the white-mediated expectation for behavior dehumanizes Hamilton and diminishes his right to exist as a full human being. 

Where the desired control over Lewis Hamilton represents the persistence of white supremacy, it is impossible for sports and politics to be separated. Sports discourse is never neutral and always emerges from a particular set of social conditions. The world of F1 would benefit from a reframing of what racism actually is and how it functions as a social condition in our current lives. Racism runs deeper than racial slurs and overt stereotypes; it determines what privileges we have and how we are able to move throughout the world. While Hamilton faces countless moments of clear racism, the less overtly racist sentiments towards his character are often disregarded as just another form of criticism. But F1 should not wait until racism becomes openly violent and rampant to combat the everyday discrimination that walks its tracks. The sport should be more active and less performative when combatting racism and discrimination. F1’s “We Race as One” campaign against discrimation documented its commitment to the fight against racism. But as an institution it should also join Hamilton’s own initiatives and projects, such as Mission 44 and the Hamilton Commission, which aim to increase diversity in the sport as well as create opportunities for youth of color, and stand with him instead of making him the enemy. Hamilton deserves to be celebrated for the good he does on and off the race track, rather than only appreciated in defeat.

The reactions to Hamilton’s side of the 2021 Abu Dhabi Grand Prix controversy is a case study of white entitlement. Many pundits and drivers may be quick to assume that the treatment that Hamilton faces is a consequence of his own doing, or would believe that not everything is about race, but this phenomenon joins a long history of Black athletes being regulated and critiqued at every turn. The asymmetrical expectations that are shaded in racist interpretations of Lewis Hamilton’s character and humanity reveal a simple, yet unfortunate predicament: why is he not allowed to be mad?