Stolen Soles

In the eighth grade, my family made the difficult decision to transfer me from my school in Milwaukee, Wisconsin, to one in a neighboring wealthy, white suburb. Starting at my new school was like entering an entirely new world. Here I could walk to school all alone. Here each student was given their very own laptop. It was unlike anything I had ever known and

I loathed it. As I walked through the crowded hallways of this new school with my eyes glued to the ground, I was forced to notice one of the many cultural differences between my hometown and this new environment: sneaker culture. My heart ached as

I witnessed the abused Air Force 1s pace shiny polished floors. Creased, neglected, worn and tormented, I questioned just how people could treat their sneakers with so little respect.

Since my formative years, I’ve witnessed sneaker culture come to the forefront of streetwear and designer fashion. According to StockX, an online marketplace for streetwear and sneakers, the company eclipsed 6.5 million lifetime users in the first half of 2021, with buyers outside of the US growing by over 100%.1 They also reported a more than 200% increase in distinct designer collaborations with streetwear brands. This trend is hard to ignore. It’s impossible to go anywhere on campus without being faced by hundreds of pairs of Air Force 1s, Jordan Mid Lows or New Balance 327s. As the rise in demand for these sneakers has grown, the legacy of Black culture has

¹ “Big Facts: Collaboration Nation, Designer Edition,” StockX Snapshot, Aug. 2021.

THE DARK SIDE OF SNEAKER CULTURE YOU'RE PRIVILEGED NOT TO KNOW ABOUT

Written by Robyn George, Fashion Team Member Graphic by Mac Gale, Staff Graphic Artist MODA | 30

been left behind. Casual sneaker-wearers are not interested in learning the dark and shocking origin of sneaker culture that allows them to rock colorful, basketball shoes with their thrifted outfit today.

In Black culture, there is a dual significance to sneakers. On one hand, they’re a sign of status, wealth and prosperity. Growing up as a Black child in a low-income neighborhood can feel like the world is working against you. If by chance you overcome the influence of gang culture, the school-to-prison pipeline and the food deserts, society still tells you that there are only two ways “out the hood”: basketball or rap music. In the 1980s, a young Black man from Brooklyn, New York became a token of this success. Michael Jordan created his name from dominating the basketball industry. He took his success further than basketball when he began designing the footwear that thousands of other young Black children and teens would claim in hopes of following in his footsteps.

Jordans weren’t just a shoe, but proof to Black children that they could succeed in this pathway to overcome the generational poverty and social classes of their families. The Air Jordan and other sneakers from Adidas and Reebok soon found a place in hip-hop. Now, not only are the Black deacons in athletics wearing sneakers, but those in the music industry are as well. Sneakers are a status symbol—the first impression you make when you walk into a room without having to say a word. It’s why Black people pair Jordans with a three-piece suit at weddings, graduations and other formals. Like any other item, you might invest in, to purchase a pair of sneakers is to treat them with respect. Don’t wear them out on a rainy day; they’ll get stained. Don’t wear them on the court; they’ll get creased. Don’t wear them walking to school; they’ll get stolen.

That’s the other hand: In low-income neighborhoods, anything of value comes with the likely chance that it will be taken away and never seen again— sneakers, opportunity, lifelong friends. If you’ve ever driven through one of these neighborhoods (you know, the ones where you double lock your car doors as you drive through), you may have seen a pair of sneakers hanging over a basketball hoop or a telephone line. This isn’t a prank, but a landmark of gang and drug trafficking activity in the area.2 This phenomenon has been around since the beginning of sneaker culture. The May 1990 Sports Illustrated cover says it best: “Your Sneakers or Your Life.” Historically, to purchase a pair of sneakers was to chance to be randomly jumped, held up or followed home. Sneakers were expensive and if you had the extra money to get a pair, you had the money a gang or someone else needed more, and so they took them.

As recently as 2015, about 1,200 people a year died over sneakers, with a majority being Air Jordans.3 Notably,

² Meribah Knight, “Shoes on a Wire: Untangling an Urban Myth,” WBEZ Chicago, Aug. 5, 2015. ³ Shenequa Golding, “GQ Finds That 1,200 People a young man named Joshua Woods was followed home, shot and killed after purchasing a pair of Bread 11s. His mother then created an organization called “Life Over Fashion” to fight against sneaker violence. So, no, to the Black community, a sneaker is not just a shoe. It’s a liability, a safety hazard and a reason you might not return home, even today.

I don’t mean to discourage participation in sneaker culture but hope to educate a new generation of sneakerheads on the community’s dark history. The reality is, the recent surge in streetwear, couture collaborations and sneaker sales has really helped the community by supporting Black businesses and regulating sneaker wear. It is a beautiful feeling to witness people from all different walks of life bonding over something as inclusive and significant as the sneaker.

That being said, it is important to uplift and appreciate the communities that established this culture and to be mindful of your privilege to wear sneakers without the fear of robbery or even death. As you take elements of culture from the Black community, it’s always a good idea to give back by educating yourself or even donating to people such as Joshua Woods’ mother, who work tirelessly to keep sneaker culture safe. Next time you reach for a new pair of sneakers, think about what they mean to you, and try your best to keep them from creasing. ■

Die A Year Over Sneakers,” Vibe, Nov. 17, 2015.