When I first heard about Downtown Brown, it was through the grapevine from my sister Hana, Frank Nam, Lili Gu, and maybe others. It sounded like a distant illusion: a team that prioritized what other teams don’t. It invited folks with a totally new set of criteria, not based on skill, social connections, the ability to pay for it, or even the commitment of playing through a whole weekend. Instead, DTB was about the shared experience and identity of being a Black or Brown person in the frisbee world.
As a result, playing with DTB for the first time—just a game or two at Potlatch—felt new and different. I was surprised at the openness and excitement every person had about playing together, as well as about thinking and talking about our experiences and the role of racism in frisbee. It was an open and inviting space, ready to be what folks needed or wanted, and most of all, ready to do things differently.
It’s easy for me to forget what it means to assimilate, to lose touch with those parts of me I’ve tried to shrink in order to fit in. 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?
