I’m sure a rose by any other name would smell as sweet. Just as I’m sure a team by any other name would play the same.

The land of the free and home of the brave continues to argue over what is considered racism, as if the recent activities to remove confederate statues and change the traditions of sports teams is a 2020 creation. It isn’t. For example, almost 30 years ago hundreds of Native Americans protested outside the World Series games about the Atlanta Braves’ use of the tomahawk chop. It has only been in recent years that the activity has been truly addressed, most notably after St. Louis pitcher (and Cherokee Nation member) Ryan Helsley was reported saying, “I think [the tomahawk chop is] a misrepresentation of the Cherokee people or Native Americans in general.”

That the tomahawk chop is offensive was something I’m embarrassed to say I didn’t realize or think about when I moved to Atlanta and participated in the ritual. The chanting and the activity felt like a way to support my new team and be part of the culture of the game. I never thought about the culture of Native Americans. In my listening this year I learned a lot about the traditions and language of racism in America, and a lot more about how we often refuse to acknowledge or change our behavior because we believe ourselves not to be racist, and therefore can’t see how our actions could be considered racist. Our justifications are often deep and wide and incredibly self-centered, but the knowledge to counter this is readily available.

A quick internet search shares many stories of offensive branding in sports. If you look up the “R” word in Websters it is defined as an insulting term for American Indians. And has been considered such since the beginning of America. The use of this language would not be considered acceptable in public conversation and yet a football team with its home in our Nation’s Capitol has only recently decided to change its name. The significance of this comes with capitalism offering its two cents when companies like Walmart and Target have stopped selling the team’s merchandise. And with hundreds ofmillions of investment dollars urging companies such as Nike and Pepsi to drop sponsorship of the team. This is a call to action on racism and the discrimination of an entire group of citizens.

A 2008 study clearly outlines “that the stereotyping of Native American’s in sports was associated with depression (study 2) and decreased feelings of community worth (study 3)”. But are we asking the right questions? Why would someone be offended by changing a racist name or tradition? Doesn’t the very message not for “them” to take it personally, mean we are in fact, taking it personally? If the calls to change a racist name create division, are we truly addressing the structural and cultural systems (including language) that are blind to the real issues of social justice?

Important shifts of awareness and responsibility happen in language. And it is in truly seeking out understanding of a word’s meaning (such as the “R” word) that makes the difference in communication. Just as knowing the difference between equality and equity means we can have actionable conversations about social justice. It means we can change words from slaves to enslaved and learn why it is important. Language is a living and movable tool that can help us understand perspectives even as the system itself seems to fight against equitable access. In my lifetime I’ve seen the shift from postman to postal worker and fireman to firefighter. And while not all name changes have been embraced or wanted, the activity has created space for conversation and awareness.

Understanding there is racism, sexism (and a lot of other isms) embedded in language and using it anyway is like knowing the forest is there but choosing not to see the trees. We can change the meaning and even our perspective, but choosing not to see the history, context or details means people end up standing and fighting for symbols and words that have become more important to them than citizens. And while the fighting continues and no common ground is found, language, ever so slowly, finds its way through the cracks in the wall, and changes anyway.