In early 2025, Donald Trump became the first sitting president to attend the Super Bowl. He had just returned to the White House and his approval ratings were higher than ever. A few months earlier, he had won the election with a 12-point lead among male voters, which encouraged him to embark on something of a tour of some of the principal cathedrals of American men’s sport: on December 14, he attended the traditional Army-Navy college football game; on February 9, he was at the Super Bowl; on February 16, he attended the NASCAR Daytona 500; and on June 8, he was present at UFC 316, shortly after which he announced that he would stage a UFC fight at the White House to celebrate his 80th birthday.
An NFL official reportedly threatened to remove Houston Texans linebacker Azeez Al-Shaair from his game earlier this month unless he removed his memorial for an 8-year-old Palestinian girl killed by Israel in Gaza.
During the Texans’s week two game against the Cincinnati Bengals on September 20, Al-Shaair wrote the name of Wafaa Akila on his eye black, which refers to the strip or paint streaks that many football players wear on their cheeks.
Wafaa was an 8-year-old girl who was killed, along with her father, in an Israeli airstrike on a vehicle in Gaza City on September 6. She and her father were on their way home from her first day of school, according to Al Jazeera.
Al-Shaair, who is rated as one of the top linebackers in the league, was reportedly told by an NFL official that he would have to remove his eye black or else be barred from playing in the game, an anonymous NFL source told The Athletic. Al-Shaair complied, the reports said. Fox News’s sports vertical also confirmed the league’s threat.
The linebacker’s latest tribute came just days after the NFL gave him an $11,941 fine for writing Hind Rajab’s name on his eye black during the Texans game against the Buffalo Bills on September 13. In a show of solidarity, Dallas Mavericks player Kyrie Irving said in a post on social media that he would “take care of his fine.”
“It’s bigger to me. What’s a life worth? Is a life worth $11,000? I think it’s priceless,” said Al-Shaair when asked about the penalty.
“You can’t get so lost in your own problems that you can’t have compassion for other people in the world,” he went on. “We don’t have to have all the answers to everything to know that an innocent man, an innocent woman, an innocent child losing her life is not right … whether they’re here in America or somewhere halfway across the world.”
Ahead of the Texans game against the Indianapolis Colts this past Sunday, Al-Shaair once again wore the names of children killed by Israel — Lana and Bana Ahmed, two sisters who Israel killed along with their family in an airstrike earlier this month. The sisters were 12 and 8 years old.
The NFL gave Al-Shaair a similar fine in January when he wrote “stop the genocide” on his eye black during the pregame, but took it off for the actual game. At the time, he said that he was similarly told that he would be banned from playing in the game if he kept the message on.
“At the end of the day, it’s bigger than me. When things that are going on makes people uncomfortable — imagine how those people feel. I think that’s the biggest thing. I have no affiliation, no connection to these people other than the fact that I’m a human being,” Al-Shaair told reporters after that fine. “Even when I’m walking off this field, that’s the type of stuff that goes through my head, that I have to check myself — when I’m sitting here crying about football, when there’s people dying every single day.”
He was told that he violated league rules about displaying non-approved personal messages — but he pointed out that other players have written messages on their eye black without a fine.
“They always fine you, but I was told if I wore that in the game, I would be pulled out of the game,” he said. “I understood it was a fine, but I ain’t never seen Stef get pulled out of the game for having eye tape with writing on it.” Al-Shaair was referring to New England Patriots receiver Stefon Diggs, who frequently writes messages honoring his Christian faith on his face tape.
This story originally appeared in Truthdig on Sep. 15, 2026, and is shared with permission.
During the national anthem of the first three 2016 NFL preseason games, San Francisco 49ers quarterback Colin Kaepernick sat down on his team’s bench between two Gatorade coolers. Few noticed, and nobody made mention of the gesture until a Black reporter for NFL Network named Steve Wyche asked him about it following the third exhibition tilt, a home game against the Green Bay Packers. Wyche’s interview with Kaepernick put the quiet protest on newsfeeds across the country. Then, shortly afterpolice shot and killed Alton Sterling and Philando Castile within a 48-hour period — Kaepernick and a teammate, safety Eric Reid, went a step further before the final preseason game on Sept. 1. Instead of sitting on the bench during the anthem, they took a knee. The rest is civil rights and sports history.
The story of Kaepernick’s life before and after that fateful stand is the subject of his new memoir, “The Perilous Fight,” co-written with Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and author Nick Chiles. Kaepernick’s journey from a shy adoptee of color to white parents uninterested in exploring his Black experience, to a boldfaced protest icon is a singular American story, whose hinge moment came at the cusp of the Trump era. The book, which comes out tomorrow, will be available at most places where books are sold — but not Target. Kaepernick is boycotting the retailer over the company’s anti-diversity, equity and inclusion initiatives. I spoke with the author in late August. Our conversation has been edited for length and clarity.
Truthdig: Beginning where the book begins, have you thought about what it means to be a public face for adopted children?
Colin Kaepernick: It’s interesting, I didn’t actually hear much about adoption prior to the 2016 protest, which is when I got a surprising amount of letters and feedback from adoptees. It wasn’t immediately on my radar because being adopted is just life for me; like a regular Tuesday, right? But as more and more people reached out over the years, I’ve become mindful and intentional about showing the positive elements of it, but also the realities, and what it requires to work through all of it. Looking back, it’s natural this position came into my realm. I try to represent our community appropriately.
How were you able to grow as a person at the University of Nevada-Reno?
I was fortunate to find the right relationships early on. Some I stumbled into, like the one with my roommate-teammate Virgil Green. He invited me to attend Second Baptist Church, which became a second home for me because Reno wasn’t overly welcoming to its small Black population either. The town’s historical nickname is “The Mississippi of the West.” Later on in college, another teammate, future Super Bowl champion Brandon Marshall, introduced me to the Kappas, an esteemed Divine Nine Black fraternity, which I didn’t even know we had because the campus population was so small.
Former National Football League quarterback Colin Kaepernick speaks after receiving the newly-established ACLU Ralph Ellison Award for Defenders of Civil Rights and Civil Liberties in the Arts, Business, Science and Sports at the ACLU Awards Ceremony at Washington Hilton on July 24, 2026 in Washington, DC. (Photo by Paul Morigi/Getty Images)
One of the funniest moments in the book is your dad getting all worked up and questioning you because he thinks it’s an “Animal House” situation.
Yeah, Dad. Not the same thing at all. The Kappas gave me a great sense of community, and I’ll add one more to the mix. The Center is a multicultural campus spot where if you weren’t white, you could go hang out and relax. I made a lot of friends there as well. I had these three safe spaces where I could have conversations I never had [growing up] back in Turlock [California]. I explored ideas and concepts I hadn’t been exposed to previously, so even with the demands of football, college allowed me to grow and develop in important ways.
I revisited your NFL highlight reels and will confess to forgetting how ahead of your time you were. Lamar Jackson and Josh Allen were certainly watching. Do you hope to reclaim yourself as a quarterback, because in many ways it’s been overshadowed and even memory-holed?
I became the 49ers’ starter in 2012, which is when you start to see a broader shift in the style of quarterback play towards what we see today. Mobile with a lot of movement, beat defenses with your arm and your legs. I’m proud of what I accomplished, but the league’s response to the protest itself is the reason my career isn’t remembered in the way it should be. The NFL did significant work to delegitimize the on-field performances to justify blackballing me.
Delegitimizing is an evenhanded way of describing it.
Yes, it’s a very kind word. There was a lot of work done on that front by the NFL, but what gets missed in all of it is that if I wasn’t the caliber of quarterback that I was, nobody would’ve cared. I know how good I was because a backup QB would’ve just been shuffled off the sidelines and it would’ve been the end of it. My success as a quarterback is precisely why the protest drove the NFL crazy.
To me, the biggest surprise in “The Perilous Fight” is that your first protest in Houston was impromptu. What was it that hit you when the national anthem played?
“We’re consistently seeing Black men killed by multiple cameras.”
At that point in time, there’d been a wave of police killings, year after year on a regular basis. By then, we’re also in a different era with social media. Historically, you look at the L.A. riots, which erupted only because someone happened to shoot video of Rodney King being beaten by LAPD. One person with a VHS camera. Today, we’re consistently seeing Black men killed by multiple cameras everyone carries around. These killings coincided with the reading and research I’d been doing to understand the historical context of police brutality. Walking onto the field for that 2016 game, playing “The Star-Spangled Banner” hadn’t crossed my mind. When I heard it I asked myself, what does this actually mean to you?
Having a better understanding of the historical systems of oppression, as opposed to ‘one-off’ incidents, gave me a realization in that moment. What the United States purports to represent doesn’t represent me or a significant portion of the population. Why am I supposed to show pride in this? Steve Wyche caught me sitting in a third game, inquired, and I told him why. By the next day, the story had blown up well beyond sports media.
I joked at the time that you should offer to stand for “The Star-Spangled Banner” in exchange for playing the never-mentioned third verse.
Right, dig a little deeper and the question becomes: What is the actual intention of the national anthem? Why would I ever stand up for that? Absurd. To your point though, sure, if we’re going to ring it out in stadiums, play the full thing. Get it all out there.
There’s a major public misconception about when you changed tactics in the final preseason game and decided to take a knee. The oft-told tale is that former Green Beret and NFL preseason player Nate Boyer convinced you and teammate Eric Reid to do so, but that isn’t what happened at all. How did Boyer become part of the narrative?
The story came out that way because Nate Boyer positioned it that way. It obviously wasn’t the case, it was Eric and I. As I note in the book, I was a Black guy in a national firestorm and, supposedly, I reached out to a white guy I didn’t know to come and advise me on what to do during the national anthem? Laughable. It was Reid’s idea. The really telling part is that nobody in the media questioned Boyer’s version of events. Why? Well, if it’s Boyer’s idea, it’s a more palpable narrative to make a lot of football fans nominally comfortable.
“He was supposed to take a knee with us and then at the last minute decided not to.”
Eric and I had spoken to Nate beforehand, and he was supposed to take a knee with us and then at the last minute decided not to, which is its own situation altogether. It became a big decision for Eric and I. Should we combat this bogus story in real time, or do we stay with the protest message we’re trying to send? If the thing with Boyer becomes the focal point, then we’ve lost the impact we’re trying to achieve. We didn’t love seeing that narrative run rampant, but Eric and I decided it wasn’t the battle worth fighting.
It’s a no-win situation, but Boyer’s story did steer the conversation in public circles to one of free speech, rather than police brutality, which are two very different topics.
Very different, indeed. How the protest is talked about through those two lenses was revealing then and remains so today. People who recognize what Eric and I were doing, see it as a protest against police killing Black people, the serious need to address that and systemic oppression more broadly. The free speech piece of it was always a deflection from the core issues at hand.
Do you feel there’s a connective tissue from taking a knee to the mass public protests over the last decade, both the righteous ones following George Floyd’s murder, and opposite ones like Jan. 6?
I’ve never thought about it that way. I mainly look at the anthem protest in terms of the wins we’ve had and the progress we’ve made, but also how much more work there is to do, especially given all the resistance to creating a fair and equitable society. How loud and vocal the other side of it has gotten over the last 10 years is both surprising and not at the same time. We’ve taken major steps back, but I’d rather have it all out in the open so we know what we’re up against. It’s valuable to know where it lies.
Have you found the last decade disheartening?
At times for sure, but my hope is that the awful politics are part of a last-ditch effort. As far as where we’re at as a society, there’s a strong growing undercurrent of people saying “enough’s enough.” We’re heading in the right direction, but you have to weather the hard times. Keep playing offense in the storm.
One savvy author’s move on your part is mentioning President Donald Trump as little as possible. I thought there would be more pronounced score-settling and was sincerely hoping you’d “motherfuck” the big man once or twice. Did you go back and forth at all about your impressive restraint?
Look, that man had a direct impact, working with NFL owners to blackball me. That exists, that’s real, so there is plenty I could say about him personally—
Wouldn’t it feel good just saying it out loud?
Maybe, but I know in many ways that’s what they want. They want to be the center of the story and have relevance and influence in that way. Him in particular. There’s obviously a level of power and influence that comes with his position, but I don’t have to lean into that or accept it. I’m trying to stay focused on what’s most important. He doesn’t fit the bill.
Given the nightmare CTE report that came out this week combined with distance from your playing days, does your brain thank you for missing out on a decade of head shots, even if your heart says otherwise?
It’s a both/and answer. There’s my love of playing football, nothing else like it, with its competitive nature, the camaraderie of a group of guys coming together to win. You put yourself through so much it makes success incredibly rewarding in ways you can’t find anywhere else. And yet, there are serious consequences. I haven’t even read this week’s report yet, but I remember the one where they had more than a hundred players and every single one of them had CTE except for one, a kicker I think. If you want to play, be a kicker.
“In football, CTE is not an if, it’s a when.”
The physical consequences of football are real. My wife, Nessa Diab, and I have asked the question so many families are asking. If we have a son, will we let him play football? As a parent who knows the undeniable impact, I would like him to play other sports. In football, CTE is not an if, it’s a when. You don’t want to put your child in that situation.
On a personal level, I played football for 20-plus years, so time will tell the damage done, but am I glad I saved myself some hits? Yes. Would I love to get back out on the field? Absolutely.
I’m not sure, because there are so many different topical pieces in the book. Like the Nate Boyer story isn’t known, hasn’t been talked or written about, so I think there will be a good amount there. On the Jay-Z side, this is repetitive behavior that there’s been conversations about for quite a while. There may be some surprise around specific details, but Jay-Z’s overall actions won’t be shocking to anyone who has paid attention.
I had friends text me about it, but I’ve never seen it because I don’t engage. I hope solidarity is the case. And if so, while I don’t love anyone who is now doing the Super Bowl show because of the Jay-Z deal, I appreciate the sentiment.
Finally, looking back, can you believe how the last 10 years have played out? How you became a monumental public figure — and all of the fallout that came along with it — for a generally mild act of protest against an ongoing life-and-death problem for communities of color? It’s mind-blowing, no?
It really speaks to the fragility of a certain portion of society. In basic form, I’m protesting police killing Black people. The flip side of resistance to this simple human concept is — what? Police should be killing Black people? Yes, I’ve been in the center spotlight, but I’m also part of a larger movement of people publicly screaming, “Hey, you shouldn’t be killing us!”
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