Racine Smith Williams on Representation in Gymnastics and Literature

In a world where representation and inclusion are more important than ever, Racine Smith Williams stands as a beacon of change within the gymnastics community. As the first Black gymnast to win the Maryland State All-Around title and the first Black female gymnast at the University of Nebraska, Racine has not only broken barriers but has also become a powerful advocate for young gymnasts of color. In our recent interview, Racine shares her journey of writing Upside Down Is Right Side Up, a children’s book that celebrates diversity and encourages young readers to embrace their unique identities.

Athlete. Author. Advocate.

Q: Every book, in its own quiet way, becomes a teacher to the one who writes it. What did Upside Down Is Right Side Up reveal to you about yourself, your craft, or even the deeper truths you hadn’t expected to uncover when you first set out to tell this story?

I never considered that a book, in its own quiet way, could become a teacher to the one who wrote it. When I first wrote Upside Down Is Right Side Up, I thought I had “just” written a children’s book – a fun and encouraging story meant to uplift young readers. I didn’t anticipate how deeply it would speak back to me, or how much it would reveal about the space I occupy in the gymnastics community.

It wasn’t until I began reading the reviews on Amazon that I realized the story carried more weight than I imagined. Parents wrote about how much it meant to see a Black gymnast at the center of a children’s book. Many shared how their children lit up when they saw a character who looked like them. For families, especially those of color, this wasn’t “just” a book – it was representation. Parents, many of them, decades younger than me, were grateful that their children could finally see themselves reflected in the pages of a storybook, something I never had when I was their age.

As I shared my book through vending and workshops, I also began to hear the painful stories about the racism, unconscious bias, and microaggressions that Black gymnasts and their families were facing. One parent shared with me that her eight-year-old daughter asked why none of the “blue people” looked like her. At first, I was confused – then I realize she was talking about the gymnastic judges who wear blue blazers.

Last summer, I applied and was invited to present at the USA Gymnastics Region 7 Conference. Using my book as a foundation, I entitled my presentation Accepting Differences. The lecture addressed the critical and often uncomfortable realities faced by Black gymnast and their families – topics that are too often overlooked or avoided. Out of 137 presenters, I was the only Black presenter. That confirmed why I was there: to give voice to experiences that cannot be ignored, and to plant seeds for change within the larger gymnastics’ community.

Looking back on this first year-and-a half, after being published, I now see that it was never just about telling a story. Writing Upside Down Is Right Side Up opened a door for me to listen, to engage, and to advocate in ways I hadn’t imagined. It reminded me that my story as a gymnast did not end when I stopped competing – it simply evolved.

Now, as an author and advocate I am carrying forward the lessons of being “the first” so that others don’t have to feel like “the only”.

Today, I believe I am exactly where I’m supposed to be - standing at the intersection of athlete, author and advocate. I am here to amplify voices and occupy spaces where representation is scarce.  I am here to be whatever gymnasts of color and their families need me to be: an advocate, a sounding board, a mentor, or simply some who sees them.

Q: This story gently introduces children to the idea of diversity and inclusion. Why was it important for you to highlight the experience of gymnasts of color, and what do you hope young readers take away from that?

Highlighting the experience of gymnasts of color was important to me because representation matters, especially for young children who are still forming their sense of identity and belonging. When I wrote the scene where someone touches PJ’s hair, I wanted to reflect on a moment that can be confusing and difficult to process at a young age.

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After that incident, it felt essential to show the family affirming PJ’s beauty and worth, reinforcing that even though she may not look like the other gymnasts, she is still beautiful, special and valued. I also made a point to include the coach’s perspective—someone outside of PJ’s background—who reassures her that “it’s okay to be different, our differences are what make us unique”. That message of inclusion coming from multiple voices felt important.

For children who see themselves in PJ, I hope they come away feeling seen, confident, and proud of who they are. For children who may be in the majority, I hope the story encourages empathy—whether they’ve participated in or witnessed moments where someone was treated differently. My goal is to open the door for meaningful conversations between parents and children about situations that can sometimes feel uncomfortable or hard to discuss.

I believe Upside Down Is Right Side Up can serve as a helpful tool to guide those conversations and foster understanding at an early age.

Q: PJ’s world is full of curiosity and courage. What do you hope children see in her character that they can carry into their own lives?

PJ’s curiosity and courage are at the heart of who she is, and I hope children see that it’s okay to ask questions, to explore, and to step into new or unfamiliar situations with confidence. Even when PJ faces moments that are confusing or uncomfortable, she keeps going—she learns, grows, and doesn’t lose her sense of wonder.

I want young readers to understand that bravery doesn’t mean never feeling unsure; it means continuing to be yourself, even when things feel different or challenging. PJ shows that your uniqueness is not something to hide—it’s something to embrace.

My hope is that children carry that same spirit into their own lives: to be curious about the world around them, to stand tall in who they are, and to treat others with kindness and empathy along the way.

Q: You made history as the first Black gymnast to win the Maryland State All-Around title and the first Black female gymnast at the University of Nebraska. Did you feel the weight of that impact at the time, or do you recognize it more fully now as you reflect on your journey?

At the time, I don’t think I fully understood the weight of what I was accomplishing. My focus was on showing up, working hard, and doing my best in the sport I loved. I was so immersed in the day-to-day of school, training and competing that I wasn’t thinking about the larger significance of those moments.

It’s really in looking back that I recognize the impact more clearly. Being the first Black gymnast to win the Maryland State All-Around title and the first Black female gymnast at the University of Nebraska means something beyond my personal achievements—it represents visibility, possibility, and change.

Now, I understand that my journey may have opened doors or inspired someone else to believe that they, too, belong in spaces where they may not often see themselves represented. That perspective has given my experiences a deeper meaning, and it’s something I carry with a great sense of pride and responsibility.

Q: Diversity and inclusion in sports has seen both progress and setbacks. What wisdom would you share with the next generation of gymnasts about finding their place and thriving in this evolving landscape?

The landscape they’re stepping into is more open than it used to be—but it’s not finished. That means they will have opportunities past generations didn’t, along with new challenges. Both matter.

A few things to think about moving forward:

Your identity is not a limitation.Whether it’s your race, body type, culture, or background, the sport may not always reflect it yet. That doesn’t mean you need to shrink to fit it. The athletes who have shifted gymnastics forward didn’t erase themselves—they showed up fully and forced the sport to stretch.

Excellence and self-advocacy go together.Being great at your craft matters, but so does speaking up—about training conditions, mental health, fairness, or respect. What Simone Biles did by prioritizing her mental health wasn’t a step back; it redefined strength in elite sports.

Find your tribe early.Coaches, teammates, mentors—look for those who respect you, not just your performance. Inclusion isn’t just a concept; it’s something you feel daily in how you’re treated. If a space consistently undermines that, it’s okay to question whether it deserves you.

Progress isn’t linear.There will be moments where it feels like things are moving backward—policies, representation, attitudes. Don’t let that convince you that your presence doesn’t matter. It matters more in those moments.

Redefine what “thriving” means.Thriving isn’t just podiums. It’s longevity, health, joy in movement, and leaving the sport better than you found it. For some, that includes medals; for others, it’s changing culture, mentoring others, or simply staying in a sport that once excluded people like them.

Use your voice, but on your terms. Not everyone has to be an activist in the same way. Some lead loudly, others quietly. What matters is that you know you have a voice—and you’re allowed to use it when it counts.

The next generation will shape what it becomes. The goal isn’t to fit into the sport as it is, but to help build the version of it that should exist.

Q: Are you still connected to the world of gymnastics today, and if so, in what ways does the sport continue to influence your life and your work as an author?

I am a women’s artistic gymnastics judge, and I facilitate workshops, not for gymnasts only, but all children, grades K-12. Gymnastics has a way of wiring your habits, your mindset, even how you interpret setbacks and success long after you step off the floor.

That influence shows up in a few lasting ways:

1. Discipline and structure.

Gymnastics teaches you how to work toward something that might take years to master—and how to keep going when progress is invisible. That same patience was carried into publishing my book. This was brand new territory for me, all of it.

2. Comfort with discomfort.

Training pushes you into situations where fear, failure, and frustration are constant companions. Learning to operate through that doesn’t just build resilience—it’s preparation for the future. That’s incredibly useful when you’re navigating ideas and the pieces of the puzzle are not all present.

3. Attention to detail.

In gymnastics, tiny adjustments can change everything. Writing is similar—tone, rhythm, and word choice. The difference between “good” and “compelling” often comes down to subtle refinements, much like the small adjustments made in a gymnastics routine.

4. An evolving relationship with identity.

Stepping away from a sport that once defined you forces a kind of reinvention. That process—figuring out who you are beyond performance—often becomes rich material for storytelling. It also creates empathy for others going through similar transitions.

5. A critical lens on systems.

Being part of gymnastics, especially in conversations around athlete welfare and inclusion, tends to leave you more aware of power structures—who gets supported, who gets overlooked, and why. That awareness often shapes the themes explored in writing, even indirectly.

Even without daily training, the sport continues to echo in my work and life. It’s less about routines and more about perspective, the way you approach effort, failure, voice, and growth. - Racine Smith Williams

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