"I always wanted to be somebody. If I made it, it's half because I was game enough to take a lot of punishment along the way and half because there were a lot of people who cared enough to help me"
About this Quote
A lot of American success stories are sold as solo missions; Althea Gibson quietly blows that myth up. The line starts with ambition that could read as simple hunger for fame - "I always wanted to be somebody" - but coming from a Black woman who broke tennis and golf’s color lines in the 1950s, it lands as something sharper: a demand to be seen in a world built to overlook you. "Somebody" isn’t a brand. It’s personhood, legitimacy, the right to walk through doors that were bolted shut.
The second sentence is doing double duty. "Game enough" is athlete talk, but it’s also a code for surviving a particular kind of punishment: not just tough losses, but the social battering of racism, class snobbery, and institutional gatekeeping. She makes grit sound unsentimental, almost procedural. You take hits because that’s the cost of entry.
Then she refuses the other lie: that grit is sufficient. The neat split - half punishment, half care - is a radical redistribution of credit. Gibson points to an ecosystem: coaches, patrons, communities, the unglamorous network that bankrolls possibility when official systems won’t. She’s not diminishing her will; she’s insisting on accuracy.
The subtext is generosity with teeth. It honors the people who held her up while indicting the society that made such help necessary in the first place. In a culture addicted to heroic individualism, Gibson’s math is both emotionally honest and politically revealing: talent gets you noticed, endurance keeps you standing, but care is what makes arrival possible.
The second sentence is doing double duty. "Game enough" is athlete talk, but it’s also a code for surviving a particular kind of punishment: not just tough losses, but the social battering of racism, class snobbery, and institutional gatekeeping. She makes grit sound unsentimental, almost procedural. You take hits because that’s the cost of entry.
Then she refuses the other lie: that grit is sufficient. The neat split - half punishment, half care - is a radical redistribution of credit. Gibson points to an ecosystem: coaches, patrons, communities, the unglamorous network that bankrolls possibility when official systems won’t. She’s not diminishing her will; she’s insisting on accuracy.
The subtext is generosity with teeth. It honors the people who held her up while indicting the society that made such help necessary in the first place. In a culture addicted to heroic individualism, Gibson’s math is both emotionally honest and politically revealing: talent gets you noticed, endurance keeps you standing, but care is what makes arrival possible.
Quote Details
| Topic | Perseverance |
|---|---|
| Source | I Always Wanted to Be Somebody: The Autobiography of Althea Gibson — the quoted line appears in/around the title/epigraph of Althea Gibson's autobiography. |
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