When one looks at the demographic composition of our sport, what trends do we see? And, what can it imply about how sport reflects the state of the disability rights movement?

Going back to the Athens Games, I recall that my favorite moment as a spectator was watching the 5000 meter race for visually impaired athletes. That day, I sat by several U.S. teammates and cheered on a Kenyan man, Henry Wanyoike, to his triumphant win. I watched many races while in Athens, and initially, after this particular event, I was a bit puzzled as to why this one win was so personally meaningful to me. Eventually I came to the conclusion that...I was simply stoked to see an African win! In most categories of Paralympic track and field, medalists hail from the United States, Canada, Australia, the U.K., Western Europe, and South Africa. It was very exciting to see Henry raise a stir as he raced to the finish to win his gold.

Although this may be a naïve commentary of ethnic and race relations, it’s true that, at the level of Paralympic sport, white kids often come home with the medals at the end of the day. Conversely, when watching able-bodied track, especially in distance events like the 5000 meters, we are accustomed to seeing runners from Kenya, Ethiopia, and Eastern Europe/Russia do very well. We assume that this is due to these athletes’ genetic make-up (better VO2max, better efficiency in aerobic metabolism, etc) in addition to their consistent life-long training. The latter, we assume, is often the outcome of an environmental setting in which one often utilizes pedestrian transportation to go about daily tasks.

In addition, we often feel that this tipping of the scale is a sort of appropriate payback that these athletes can show the industrialized world. They can say, in a way, that when the playing field is even and when money and technology are subtracted from the determination of athletic success, pure athleticism be revealed. The U.S. can have its Nascar, its road cycling ($5000 bikes), and its baseball with performance-enhancing drugs. But – at the end of the day – when it comes down a sport as pure as two feet hitting the road, the Africans hold the flame.

This translation just as applicable, if not more so, to Paralympic sport. Within wheelchair racing, the winners have predominantly been from more developed parts of the world. From my perspective as an athlete and also having gained experience in international travel and development work, it’s easy to recognize that something like a racing wheelchair is exceptionally hard to acquire, utilize, and maintain in many parts of the world. Who can afford the $5000 racing wheelchair (to include a frame, wheels, maintenance tools etc)? Duh. The white kids! Therefore, who still wins wheelchair racing events? The white kids! I don’t delude myself for one second to think that African athletes with a disability would not dominate these events if given opportunities for proper equipment and training. If this were the case, I’d probably be lucky to have a top 10 finish at these races rather than having a chance to win or be on the medal podium. I don’t say with fatalism, rather, I say it with realism.

Until it is the case that I have to have a sprint finish with a Kenyan, I will gladly accept any success I may achieve in this sport. However, it does give me a glimmer of hope to watch athletes like Henry Wanyioke compete and kick some white kid bum. To me, his win was inspiring as it provided a glimmer of hope that the opportunities for adaptive sport at the grassroots and Paralympic level are beginning to make their way into many parts of the developing world.