In his classic work "The Souls of Black Folk," W.E.B. DuBois speaks of a double consciousness that Black people in this country have, a viewing of the world through two sets of eyes: their own as African-Americans, and the eyes of the white world which they navigate.
The trade was simple: play a sport I love in exchange for spending most of my free time in a predominantly (almost completely) white space. Playing with DTB was an opportunity to not have to make that trade, so I jumped at it. To be surrounded by people who had shared the experience of feeling marginalized while playing the sport they loved was a balm like I had never experienced.
I’d never realized how much of my myself I had allowed to be dormant being content to assimilate within the Ultimate community. Playing with DTB opened my eyes to the parts of me that I had not allowed to be free. I experienced a deep connection with teammates based on similar experiences, comparable backgrounds, and, in general, a shared perspective of the world. This connection created a powerful bond and feeling of family I will never forget.
We may have lost to Team USA in Semis at Potlatch in 2006, but DTB made a name for itself and collectively we had one of the most meaningful and memorable experiences I’ve ever had playing our sport.
When DTB was first realized, our post-tourney Circle became a way to share our experiences and celebrate being a person of color in America.
What I learned is there are many different and varying stories but often with common themes. There have been so many topics over the years, all with history and relevance: race and politics, food, family or personal immigration experiences, and each of our own perceived identities in society. The team itself has become a forum of expression to the greater community, with the Circle being the sounding board for the ideas.
Downtown Brown brought me into the fold for Potlatch 2006, in I think one of the first coed iterations of the team. I entered the Circle for the first time feeling somewhat uncertain, but pretty soon it was clear how similar some of my personal experiences and feelings were to those of each person sharing. The Circle often brings laughter, heartwarming stories, rage-producing stories, connection, tears, and hugs, and suddenly you realize that you and your brown sisters and brothers are family forever.
Unity. Knowledge. Justice. Together. Too brown, too strong.
I grew up with a conscious realization of my Latin heritage, but with my father and the culture not at all present, I was never able to understand or embrace my ethnicity.
DTB allowed me to transcend the sport that I had loved and cherished for so many years as a vehicle to understand my Latin culture I had lost as a child. We challenged ourselves in the Circle to take the time to reach out to our families and learn more about our lost ancestries.
I will cherish those intense moments when DTB opened our hearts, minds, and history with each other, all while competing together as a team in a beautiful sport.
How does one justify the need for a team like DTB? How does one react to those who say it makes them uncomfortable? What is this all for?
For me, DTB is understanding that acceptance and inclusivity comes from acknowledging ALL the parts of ourselves, not just the parts that look or act the same, or are easy to digest. That acceptance does not require assimilation—it requires receiving with compassion and celebrating what makes us unique.
I think we all had this shared experience of playing a sport we loved, but feeling like there just weren’t a whole lot of people who looked like us on the field.
The thing I remember with the most fondness is the post-tournament Circle. This is where we all sat and shared our stories about growing up, our backgrounds and what it meant to play on DTB. What started out as a fun team became something more: a chance to talk about what it means to be a person of color and to navigate identity in our society.
I hope there’s always a place for Downtown Brown. Fist Up!
I was invited to play with the first co-ed DTB team at Potlatch in 2006. In truth, playing with a bunch of other Brown people didn’t resonate with me. It wasn’t until The Circle on Saturday night did I realize the power and community of DTB.
I’m not sure if I actually said anything in my first Circle. I do acutely remember the rawness, frankness, and vulnerability demonstrated by people as they recounted their struggles of growing up Brown in a very white world. I remember bawling until my eyes couldn’t shed any more tears, my heart both clenched tight and yet full of this funny strange feeling ... of love and being loved.
Playing with DTB, I’m reminded of the beauty of bringing my whole self to this sport; when I step onto the field, I feel powerful not just as an athlete, but as an Asian-American athlete. I see joy and solidarity in the Black and Brown faces of my teammates in the huddle, each bringing their whole selves and our shared experiences. Frisbee becomes about more than just winning and competing—it’s about remembering that our sport isn't distinct from the problems of the rest of the world.
If we can't fight racism in places where we have fun, how can we fight it where it's hard?
