OPINIONS | She made history as a black basketball star. Why doesn’t her college name that arena for her?

OPINIONS | She made history as a black basketball star. Why doesn’t her college name that arena for her?

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A 3,000-seat brick stadium, the Walter Shiraz Coliseum has been Delta State University’s basketball mecca since it was built in 1960. It was a white-only institution.

But it was the black women who made the Coliseum famous. In 1973, Lucia “Lucy” Harris played her first college basketball game as the only black player on the team. The Coliseum was her home court when Ms. Harris led Lady Her Statesmen to her third consecutive national championship. It was where she returned home with a silver medal after scoring her first basketball goal as a female Olympian in 1976. That’s where she worked as an assistant coach when she turned down her NBA, and made her history when New Orleans her Jazz drafted her. (The first and only time women were formally conscripted).

Nevertheless, if you traveled to Cleveland to visit the Coliseum, you might think Lucy Harris never existed. She will pass a towering bronze statue of her coach, Margaret Wade. He is white and never won a national championship without Mr. Harris. Hand over a plaque in the lobby dedicating the building to Walter Shiraz, the longtime Speaker of the Mississippi House of Representatives, who did everything in his power to keep black students out of Delta State. And finally, we get to the hardwood itself, dedicated to Lloyd Clark, the white high school coach the college hired to replace Ms. Harris as head coach in 2015.

The fact that Lucy Harris’ legacy has been omitted from the campus of Delta State University and from the general American consciousness for half a century suggests that there has never been a shortage of compelling women, especially black women’s sports superstars. Their names were not carved in stone like many of the men.

The Coliseum is where Ms. Harris learned that Delta State had passed her off for its female head coaching job, and it broke her heart. And then, after decades of obscurity, she took to filming scenes in “Queen of Basketball,” The New York Times op doc, executive produced by Shaquille O’Neal and Steph Curry. This is where I came back from in my wheelchair.

And last year, it was where friends and family gathered around her coffin.

Despite being one of the last public universities in Mississippi to be integrated, Delta State University is now one of the most diverse universities in the state. Yet only one of more than 60 buildings at Delta State University (the laundry building) is named after an African-American, named after Harris, the first black woman to be inducted into the Naismith Memorial Basketball Hall of Fame. There is nothing

Perhaps black women have been too inconvenient and disproportionate heroes for the white men who have led Delta State University for the past half-century.

For years, Harris’ family has been lobbying the university to rename the Coliseum after him. When I learned of their efforts, I wrote to Delta President Bill Laforge, imploring him to consider the request. Replace the names of racist politicians with the names of towering heroes who inspire your students. I replied that I would reflect on it.

Ms. Harris passed away unexpectedly less than a month later in January 2022, and her family and I once again urged the university to honor her legacy by renaming the Coliseum. The President has repeated vague responses to our pleas, asking for patience without offering a timeline.

March was Oscar night. “The Queen of Basketball” was nominated for Best Documentary Short. Ms. Harris’ (especially tall) children sat among celebrities at a black-tie ceremony, held hands and watched their mothers finally gain recognition and respect in Hollywood in a way that wasn’t at Delta State University. I prayed that it would be like this.

Josh Brolin opened the crimson envelope. “Queen of basketball,” he read. It was an unforgettable moment. As I walked to the stage to accept the award on behalf of the film, I heard the Harris family yelling “Hallelujah!” from the mezzanine. That night, I was proud to be a filmmaker.

The next day, I offered to loan Oscar indefinitely to be displayed in the lobby of the Coliseum if the university would change the name of the building. A month later, the university named a campus recreation area after the alumni who served as president of the student union.

In June, Mr. Laforge was abruptly dismissed without public explanation by the board of directors of the Mississippi Institute of Higher Education. (In a memo to the Delta State University campus, Mr. Laforge said the board cited declining enrollment and a weak economy as the main reasons for his dismissal.) I sent the following e-mail: We are going to put Lucy’s name on the Coliseum and I believe it should be done. was brewing. Unfortunately, I am not in the position to lead the charge as I would have liked. ”

Nearly a year after her death, the family is still waiting. My Oscar offer is standing.

In the Delta State University archives, JP Coleman on Mississippi’s oldest state issue, in the same place he discovered the box of long-forgotten gameplay footage of Ms. Harris that made “Queen of Basketball” possible. I have a 1957 letter written to the Governor. The park is named after Leroy Percy, a white Senator from Mississippi. It came to my attention that the park “may be converted into a black park.” The letter warns the governor in advance of widespread objections to the plan and upcoming “formal protests” and warns the governor of any proposals to dismiss the idea or whether the park will begin welcoming blacks in Mississippi. Remove Mr Percy’s name from the park.

Ben Proudfoot is the director of The New York Times Op-Doc, “The Queen of Basketball.”

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