It is probably the most famous photo in sports history. You know the one. Two men standing on a podium, heads bowed, black-gloved fists thrust into the air while the "Star-Spangled Banner" plays. It’s iconic. It’s polarizing. Honestly, it’s often misunderstood.
When Tommie Smith and John Carlos raised the Olympics Black Power fist during the 1968 Mexico City Games, they weren't just "protesting." They were risking everything. People like to look back now and call them heroes, but at the time? They were treated like pariahs. They were kicked out of the Olympic Village within 48 hours. They received death threats for years.
The context matters. 1968 was a nightmare of a year. Martin Luther King Jr. had been assassinated in April. Robert F. Kennedy was killed in June. The Vietnam War was screaming in the background. If you think the world is chaotic now, 1968 would like a word.
The Project Behind the Protest
Most people think Smith and Carlos just decided to do this on a whim. That's not true at all. It was actually the culmination of a movement called the Olympic Project for Human Rights (OPHR).
Harry Edwards, a sociologist, was the brain behind the OPHR. The original plan was actually a total boycott of the Games by Black athletes. They wanted South Africa and Rhodesia uninvited because of apartheid. They wanted Muhammad Ali’s heavyweight title restored. They wanted more Black coaches.
The boycott didn't quite happen. But the protest did.
Small details you probably missed
If you look closely at the photo, there is so much more going on than just the fists.
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- The Socks: Both men stood in their black socks, shoes off. This was meant to represent Black poverty in the United States.
- The Scarf: Tommie Smith wore a black scarf to represent Black pride.
- The Beads: John Carlos wore beads around his neck. When asked why, he later explained they were for the people who were lynched or killed, for whom no one said a prayer.
- The Unzipped Jacket: Carlos had his tracksuit top unzipped, which was a violation of Olympic etiquette, intended to represent blue-collar workers.
Who was the third guy?
We have to talk about Peter Norman. He’s the white guy in the silver medal spot. For decades, he was basically cropped out of the narrative, but his role was huge.
Norman was an Australian sprinter. Before the ceremony, Smith and Carlos told him what they planned to do. They asked if he believed in human rights. He said he did. They asked if he believed in God. He did. Norman then wore an OPHR badge on his chest to show solidarity.
In fact, it was Norman’s idea for Smith and Carlos to share the gloves. Carlos had forgotten his pair at the Olympic Village. Norman suggested they each wear one glove from Smith’s pair. That’s why Smith has the right fist up and Carlos has the left.
Australia didn't take it well. Norman was blacklisted. Despite qualifying for the 1972 Munich Games multiple times over, he wasn't sent. He died in 2006 without ever receiving an official apology from his country’s Olympic committee during his lifetime. Smith and Carlos were pallbearers at his funeral.
The Backlash was Brutal
Avery Brundage was the president of the International Olympic Committee (IOC) at the time. He was a piece of work. He had no problem with the Nazi salute during the 1936 Berlin Games—he called that a "national salute." But the Olympics Black Power fist? He called that a "domestic political statement" that had no place in the Olympics.
The IOC pressured the US Olympic Committee to suspend Smith and Carlos. When the USOC balked, Brundage threatened to ban the entire US track team. The USOC folded.
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The media was even worse. Time magazine swapped the Olympic motto "Citius, Altius, Fortius" (Faster, Higher, Stronger) for "Angrier, Nastier, Uglier." Brent Musburger, who later became a legendary announcer, called them "black-skinned stormtroopers" in the Chicago American.
It’s easy to forget how lonely that podium must have felt.
The Long Road to Redemption
For years, Smith and Carlos struggled to find work. Carlos's first wife took her own life under the stress of the constant harassment. Smith’s marriage also collapsed. They were elite athletes who had basically been deleted from their profession.
Things started to shift in the late 80s and 90s. People began to see the protest through the lens of the Civil Rights Movement’s success rather than through the lens of 1960s "radicalism."
In 2005, San Jose State University—where Smith and Carlos had competed—erected a massive statue of the moment. Interestingly, the second-place spot (where Peter Norman stood) is empty. Norman himself requested it be left empty so visitors could stand in his place and feel what it was like to take a stand.
In 2016, President Barack Obama welcomed Smith and Carlos to the White House. He told them their protest was about more than just them—it was about "the power of the human spirit." It took almost 50 years to get that kind of official recognition.
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Why the Olympics Black Power Fist Still Echoes
You see the fingerprints of 1968 everywhere in modern sports. When Colin Kaepernick took a knee in 2016, the blueprint was Smith and Carlos. When the NBA went on strike in the "bubble" in 2020, the foundation was the Olympic Project for Human Rights.
The IOC actually changed Rule 50 recently. Rule 50 is the one that bans "demonstrations or political, religious or racial propaganda." They’ve loosened it slightly, allowing for gestures of expression on the field of play, but they still get weird about the podium.
The reality is that sports have never been "apolitical." The Olympics are literally a competition between nation-states. You wave flags. You sing anthems. That is political by definition. Smith and Carlos just chose to highlight a different part of the political reality.
Common Misconceptions
- They were members of the Black Panthers. Nope. They were athletes associated with the OPHR. While they shared some goals with the Panthers, they weren't members.
- It was a "hate" gesture. It was a gesture of "human rights." Smith has explicitly stated in his autobiography, Silent Gesture, that it was a "stand for human rights," not "Black Power" in the way the media framed it.
- They were immediately stripped of their medals. Actually, they kept the physical medals. They were just expelled from the Games and the Village.
What you can learn from 1968
The story of the Olympics Black Power fist teaches us that the "wrong side of history" is usually just the side that makes the status quo uncomfortable.
If you are looking to understand the intersection of sports and social change, don't just look at the photo. Read Harry Edwards’ work. Look up the 1968 Olympic boycott movement. Study the life of Peter Norman.
History isn't just a series of dates. It's a series of choices. Smith and Carlos chose to use the 15 minutes of fame they earned through sheer physical dominance to speak for people who had no voice.
Actionable Steps for the Curious
- Watch "The Stand": This is a 2020 documentary that dives deep into the 1968 protest with archival footage you’ve probably never seen.
- Read "Silent Gesture": Tommie Smith’s autobiography is the definitive account of what was going through his head when his arm went up.
- Explore the OPHR Manifesto: Find the original demands of the Olympic Project for Human Rights. It’s fascinating to see how many of those issues (like coaching representation) are still being debated today.
- Visit San Jose State: If you’re ever in Northern California, see the monument. Stand in Peter Norman's spot. It’s a powerful experience.
The legacy of the 1968 protest isn't found in a textbook. It’s found in the courage of any athlete who realizes that their platform is bigger than the game they play. It's about the realization that some things are more important than a gold medal.