Since ESPN commentator Stephen A. Smith used his massive media platform to criticize Congresswoman Jasmine Crockett, the backlash has been immediate and fierce.
What might have seemed like routine political commentary quickly evolved into a larger cultural flashpoint about power, gender, and the ongoing struggle for respect faced by Black women in leadership.
Joining the critical voices against Smith, following his attack on Rep. Crockett, is social commentator Angel Carmell, who took to Instagram to call out Smith directly, accusing him of “talking down to a Black woman in Congress” and using his influence to “tear down instead of uplift.”
Her post, which included a passionate video, argued that Smith’s critique was not just about Crockett—it was emblematic of a recurring problem within the Black community and American media at large.
“Stephen A. You sit on one of America’s biggest mics,” Carmell said. “And you decide to talk down to a Black woman in Congress. Congratulations—you’ve shown your hand.”
The controversy stems from Smith’s comments about Rep. Jasmine Crockett (D-TX), a freshman congresswoman known for her bold, unapologetic style and fierce questioning during House hearings. Smith reportedly suggested that Crockett’s approach made her ineffective and that her “tone” alienated potential allies—a familiar critique historically levied against outspoken Black women.
Carmell, however, wasn’t having it.
“Congresswoman Crockett is one of the few Black women in Congress unapologetically calling out injustice,” she said. “When you shame her tone, you shift attention away from the policies she’s advancing, the people she’s fighting for, and the history she carries.”
A Deeper Divide: Media Influence and Intra-Community Policing
What makes this exchange particularly significant is the power imbalance at play. Smith, one of the most influential voices in sports media, commands an audience of millions.
Crockett, one of only a handful of Black women in Congress, operates within a system where her every word and expression are scrutinized. The intersection of race, gender, and power is impossible to ignore.
Carmell’s criticism highlights a painful truth: when influential Black men publicly rebuke Black women, especially those in leadership, it reverberates differently. It feeds into historical narratives that have long painted assertive Black women as “angry” or “uncooperative,” undermining their credibility in spaces where they already face resistance.
From a sociological standpoint, this pattern falls under what scholars describe as intra-community policing—when members of marginalized groups enforce dominant societal norms upon one another, consciously or not. In this case, Smith’s comments echo the same tone-policing tactics that have historically silenced women like Shirley Chisholm, Maxine Waters, and Ilhan Omar.
The Broader Implications: Who Gets to Define “Professionalism”?
The dust-up also raises questions about who gets to define what leadership looks like, and more importantly, whose tone is deemed acceptable. Crockett’s no-nonsense style, often described as “fiery,” has become part of her political identity—a reflection of frustration with a system that routinely marginalizes the very communities she represents.
Carmell addressed this tension head-on:
“Sometimes dissent is work. Sometimes confrontation is the only path left when systems refuse to change.”
Her words strike at the heart of a broader debate about respectability politics—the idea that marginalized people must conform to certain behavioral standards to be taken seriously. For many Black women in leadership, that expectation is both exhausting and dehumanizing.
A Moment of Reckoning
What this controversy ultimately reveals is less about Stephen A. Smith’s personal opinion and more about the fragile balance between critique and accountability within the Black community. When public figures with massive platforms engage in commentary that reinforces gendered stereotypes, it doesn’t just hurt one person—it perpetuates a cycle that has existed for generations.
As Carmell poignantly concluded:
“Black women don’t need your approval to lead. History will remember who fought for the people and who just talked for the paycheck.”
In an age where Black voices are more visible than ever but still disproportionately criticized, this moment serves as a reminder: solidarity is not silence—but it must be rooted in respect.
This dispute underscores the continued intersection between media narratives, racialized gender dynamics, and political discourse. In a society where representation matters, the way influential figures frame Black women in power has real-world consequences.
Whether intentional or not, Smith’s remarks highlight the need for a deeper conversation about how internalized bias manifests—even within communities fighting the same battle.
