Serena Williams Quotes

Look at history,” Eva continued, rubbing a temple. “Roxanne Shanté out-rapping grown men at fourteen. Serena winning the US Open at seventeen. Mary Shelley writing Frankenstein at eighteen. Josephine Baker conquering Paris at nineteen. Zelda Fitzgerald’s high school diary was so fire that her future husband stole entire passages to write The Great Gatsby. The eighteenth-century poet Phillis Wheatley published her first piece at fourteen, while enslaved. Joan of Arc. Greta Thunberg. Teen girls rearrange the fucking world.

Hold serve,Hold serve,Hold serve. Focus,Focus,Focus. Be confident,Be confident,Be confident. Hold serve. Hold,Hold,Hold. Move Up, Attack, Kill. Smile. Hold!!!

I really think a champion is defined not by their wins but by how they can recover when they fall.

What does a victorious or defeated black woman’s body in a historically white space look like? Serena and her big sister Venus Williams brought to mind Zora Neale Hurston’s “I feel most colored when I am thrown against a sharp white background.” This appropriated line, stenciled on canvas by Glenn Ligon, who used plastic letter stencils, smudging oil sticks, and graphite to transform the words into abstractions, seemed to be ad copy for some aspect of life for all black bodies.

To turn black women into objectified others was to underline their difference; they may be beautiful, but they are of another kind, separate from the dominant understanding of attractiveness.

Victory is very, very sweet. It tastes better than any dessert you've ever had.

Olía las curvas del río tras el crepúsculo y vi la última luz supina y serena sobre los charcos dejados por la marea como trozos de un espejo roto, después, tras ellos comenzaban las luces sobre el aire pálido, temblando un poco como mariposas que revoloteasen en la distancia.

Natalie, who’s built like Serena Williams. Natalie, who slaughters track records in the spring, who smashes lacrosse sticks in the fall, who could crush me with her thigh muscle alone even though I’m no pipsqueak. I’m five-seven, but she’s over six feet and really, what would I defend myself with? My long slinder fingers?

I love who I am, and I encourage other people to love and embrace who they are. But it definitely wasn't easy, it took me awhile.

A champion is not defined by their wins but how they recover when they fall

Every woman’s success should be an inspiration to another. We’re strongest when we cheer each other on.

Joy is the whole game, not just the end game

You have to believe in yourself when no one else does.

A champion is defined not by their wins but by how they recover when they fall. You have to believe in yourself when no one else does. I've had to learn to fight all my life-got to learn to keep smiling.

Geographically, Jess's backside was a mountain range. The sun rose over it -eventually. Huge birds of prey nested on its craggy heights and hunted in its shadows. It wouldn't have been so bad if Jess's bum had been balanced by a nice big bosom. Jennifer Lopez, Britney Spears, and Serena Williams were designed with this pleasing sense of balance. But geographically, Jess's boobs could not balance her bum at all. Her chest was the kind of featureless plain upon which airports are constructed.

I know for a fact that I would be awful if I was built like Serena Williams or Jennifer Lopez... If I had a body remotely close to what they have, I would be a terror. My ass would cause me to do really inappropriate and rude things. I'd be so ridiculous that people would be able to pick my labia out of a lineup. I'd wear zero clothes any- and everywhere, every day. I'd show up at church rocking a denim thong and a cropped T-shirt and have the nerve to sit right next to the head usher and dare her to say anything to me. And if anyone did say something to me, I'd tell them, "Jesus blessed me in many ways, and I am just showing off His works. HALLELUJAH." People would be disgusted and appalled by me and I wouldn't care. All insults would bounce off my ample backside. To whom much is given, much is required, and I'd require that my much would be given nary an inch of fabric. I'd hire a band whose sole job would be to follow me around and play theme music for my yansh, based on the mood I was in... I might opt to walk backwards into any room I entered, because why not?... I might also declare my booty its own limited liability corporation, assigning myself as CEO and chairman of the Donk. My jeans would be tax-deductible business expenses, and I would add my ass to my LinkedIn profile's Skills section. Everyone would throw hate ration in my dancery, and I wouldn't even see it, protected as I would be by the throne I sat atop.

Serena’s body isn’t built to emulate the look of the model in an Ann Taylor shift dress. It’s built – through an exacting and grueling regimen – to decimate her opponents. And his suggestion that the body, too, is beautiful and sexy – in spite of, or even because of, its threat to the norms of white femininity – will continue to be threatening until the standards of beauty are decentered from those of the white upper class.

Look at history,” Eva continued, rubbing a temple. “Roxanne Shanté out-rapping grown men at fourteen. Serena winning the US Open at seventeen. Mary Shelley writing Frankenstein at eighteen. Josephine Baker conquering Paris at nineteen. Zelda Fitzgerald’s high school diary was so fire that her future husband stole entire passages to write The Great Gatsby. The eighteenth-century poet Phillis Wheatley published her first piece at fourteen, while enslaved. Joan of Arc. Greta Thunberg. Teen girls rearrange the fucking world.” An electrified

tennis phenoms Venus and Serena Williams have experienced losing to a male with not nearly as much notoriety as they have… in a blowout. In 1998, in a matchup against Karsten Braasch, the 203rd ranked male tennis player from Germany, Serena lost 6–1 and Venus lost 6–2. Keep in mind Serena is a 23-time Grand Champion and her sister a 7-time Grand Champion. Serena herself said, “I hit shots that would have been winners on the women’s Tour, and he got to them easily.” Is it a good time to mention at the time Braasch was smoking a pack of cigarettes a day, and smoked during changeovers the day of the match? He also admitted to playing a round of golf and drinking a few cocktails before facing the Williams sisters as well as performing like “a guy ranked 600th.” Thirteen years later, in an interview with David Letterman, Serena noted she would lose to Andy Murray 6–0 in just a matter of minutes. She went as far to say men and women’s tennis is a totally different sport. Serena told Letterman, “I love to play women’s tennis. I only want to play girls because I don’t want to be embarrassed.

Naturalmente questa invasione della campagna creò da principio complessi problemi di organizzazione, che avrebbero portato a un'enorme miseria, se il popolo fosse stato ancora schiavo del monopolio di classe. Ma così come stavano le cose, la situazione si assestò presto da sola. Una per una le persone scoprirono quali erano i loro interessi e rinunciarono a imporsi occupazioni in cui non avrebbero assolutamente potuto riuscire. È vero che la città invase la campagna, ma gli invasori, come gli antichi guerrieri, si lasciarono influenzare dal nuovo ambiente e si trasformarono in agricoltori; diventando poi più numerosi dei cittadini, a loro volta finirono per influenzare anche questi ultimi; così la differenza fra campagna e città si attenuò sempre di più. E fu proprio questo mondo agricolo, vivificato dal pensiero e dall'attività della gente di città, che permise il sorgere di questa vita serena, agiata ma produttiva, di cui voi stesso avete avuto una prima esperienza. Come vi ripeto, abbiamo compiuto molti errori, ma col tempo siamo riusciti a correggerli. Ai tempi della mia infanzia la gente doveva ancora lavorare parecchio. Le idee mature della prima metà del secolo XX, quando gli uomini erano ancora ossessionati dal terrore della miseria e non sapevano apprezzare, come noi oggi, i piaceri della vita di tutti i giorni, distrussero molte delle bellezze ambientali che ci erano state lasciate dall'epoca del commercio; e devo ammettere che gli uomini si risollevarono solo molto lentamente dai danni che essi stessi si erano procurati, anche dopo aver conquistato la libertà. Ma per quanto lentamente, la guarigione venne, doveva venire; e più ci conoscerete, più vi accorgerete di quanto noi oggi siamo felici: viviamo circondati dalla bellezza senza alcun timore di diventare rammolliti, siamo sempre impegnatissimi e la cosa ci riempie di gioia. Che cosa si potrebbe domandare di più dalla vita?

But that lie – whose purpose was to allow white people to continue to think they weren’t racist, even when their actions and words indicated otherwise – was one in which the Williams sisters, like their father, refused to participate. They rejected the idea that they would assimilate to the white codes of the tennis world. Instead, they posed the question of their difference over and over again – in every clack of their densely beaded hair, in every powerful serve.

Put differently, the rhetoric of Williams’ different body isn’t just sexist – it’s profoundly racist.

The Williams sisters had something else: each other, and their absolute dominance.

But every step of Williams’s career has been shadowed with the sort of resentment that emerges whenever someone unsettles the status quo in an effective and unapologetic way. Put differently, when she stirred the pot, a whole lot of bullshit rose to the surface – and her refusal to try to perfume its smell has made her unruliness all the more potent.

Unlike other players – who arrived at the sport because their class and place in society afforded them the possibility – the Williamses fought their way in. Any victory from that point forward would not be out of luck, or proximity to privilege, or pedigree. It would be through sheer strength, work, and will.

Williams’s trashiness is the opposite of the tennis image: to be sexy, to admit you have a body, to wear things that are flashy or sparkly, all of it flies in the face of the traditional tennis idea, which corresponds with that of upper-class America.

A baseball team that knew its All-Star reliever had a genetic predisposition to rotator cuff tears could put him on a preventive strengthening program like the one Mackie Shilstone designed for Serena Williams and Peyton Manning. On the other hand, it could also use that information against him in contract negotiations, arguing that his services were less valuable than those of a hurler less likely to end up on the disabled list. For that reason, players’ associations have been wary of genetic science. In many sports, unions have been reluctant even to embrace wearable sensors, worried the data they captured would be used in ways that would undermine athletes’ negotiating power. DNA data, which reflects not just a player’s current physiology or performance but his immutable destiny, is an order of magnitude more sensitive.

A champion isn't about how much they win, it's about how they recover from their downs.

Here’s the ultimate glitch in his argument. If you extrapolate logically from John McEnroe’s suggestion that 699 people are better at tennis than Serena Williams, then there’s no real point in her competing. And if there’s no point her competing, there’s certainly no point any other women competing.

Even if he had got the theoretical ranking correct, though, what’s his point? That physically stronger tennis players have an advantage over smaller ones? Like, duh. Serena Williams is competing in a different class. You might just as well say Ricky Hatton wouldn’t have done so well if he had to fight Anthony Joshua. Or Bradley Wiggins couldn’t cycle over the finish line faster than Lewis Hamilton could do it in a car. What’s the point of saying it? Just to belittle a fellow sportsperson’s achievement? It doesn’t tell us anything about the player’s innate ability.

But Serena Williams is right, albeit not as funny as she might have been: his statement is not factually based. 700th? Where did that come from? McEnroe was meaning to say, “She needn’t think she’s all that; there are plenty of men in the world who could beat her” but he overegged it with the number 700, which is a rather hysterical guess.

If it weren’t hysterical – if the amazing Serena Williams would really be 700th in the world if playing against men – this would mean that skill, technique and hand-eye coordination have become effectively irrelevant in tennis compared with brute strength and force. And if that’s true, John McEnroe might want to consider piping down about it, for fear of turning off the audience and jeopardising his revenue stream.

You shouldn’t pay any attention to what she says,” Kendra says firmly, nodding at Elisa sprawled out on the terrace chair. “She’s just a nasty bitch. Ignore her.” Elisa hears this, as she’s meant to. “And you,” she calls to Kendra, swiveling on her chair to face inside the dining room, “you think you are so pretty, so beautiful, because all the boys want you. Well, they only want you because you are different. They think you are esotica. Exotic.” Kendra looks as if Elisa just slapped her in the face, and Paige draws in her breath sharply. “Are you kidding me?” Paige snaps at Elisa. “What did you just call her?” Her hands clenched into fists, Paige marches around the table in Elisa’s direction; skinny Elisa flinches at the sight of 140 pounds of super-confident, sporty, protein-fed American girl heading toward her with fury in her eyes. I nip around the table from the other side and head Paige off before she backhands Elisa like Serena Williams hits a tennis ball, and sends her flying across the terrace and into the olive grove beyond. I’m not an etiquette expert, but I can’t help feeling that knocking our hostess’s daughter over a stone balcony might not be considered the most appropriate way to celebrate the first full day of our summer course. “Paige, leave it! She’s just jealous,” I say swiftly. “Ignore her. She’s having a go at us because she’s pissed off that Luca likes foreign girls--he doesn’t want her.” Elisa grabs her cigarettes and her phone, jumps up, and, sneering at us all, storms off the terrace, muttering, “Vaffanculo!” as she flees the wrath of Killer Barbie. That’s right--run away. To me, “exotic” sounds nice, like a compliment: out-of-the-ordinary, glamorous, exciting. But Kendra clearly hasn’t taken it that way, nor did Paige. I want to ask them why, but it’s Kelly, of all people, who saves the moment by saying meditatively: “You know, we should make a note of all the mean things Elisa says to us in Italian. That way, we’ll learn all the best swearwords.

Now, let’s focus on one aspect of another female superstar’s greatness that you should bring into your game, or rather into your head; Serena Williams (and Venus too) have serious short-term memory loss. By that I mean when things go bad in a point, game, set, or match, they have this ability to mentally wipe the slate clean—to forget about it immediately and not get ruined. Club players? We miss a few shots and lose a couple of games and it gets in our mind; we lose confidence, get rattled, and dial it down. Believe me, I know. That was me on tour plenty of times. As you’ll read later in Winning Ugly, when you get down on yourself—start beating yourself up mentally—there are now two players on the court trying to take you down. And one of them is you.

I've got to be honest, I was never a tennis fan, But the moment that Venus and Serena appeared on the court with those rackets in their hands... Now you understand!

You’d have thought Rachel Woolf was the next Serena Williams by how hard she took her loss in the semifinals to Lauren and Jen.

Parents worry that they are failing if their kids are not prodigies by age eight, or aren’t on the path to dominance in violin, tennis, or math. Most parents don’t actually submit their child to the regimen of a Tiger Woods or a Serena Williams, but way too many parents feel guilty that they’re not doing more.

We're strongest when we cheer each other on.

So he sings,” he continued as if Denny had said nothing. “His solo mio, that with her in his life he is rich because she is so beautiful that she makes the sun more beautiful, you understand?” And at that he dropped the hoe, closed his eyes and spread out his arms wide and with the fading sun shining on his handsome face he sang: Che bella cosa è na jurnata 'e sole n'aria serena doppo na tempesta! Pe' ll'aria fresca pare già na festa Che bella cosa e' na jurnata 'e sole Ma n'atu sole, cchiù bello, oi ne' 'O sole mio sta 'nfronte a te! 'O sole, 'o sole mio sta 'nfronte a te! sta 'nfronte a te! It looked like fun. We dropped our tools and joined him, belting out something that sounded remarkably like Napolitano. We sang as loud as we could, holding on to each note as long as we could before we ran out of breath, and then we sang again, occasionally dropping to one knee, holding our hands over our hearts with exaggerated looks of deep pain. Although we made the words up, we sang with the deepest passion, with the best that we had, with all of our hearts, and that made us artists, great artists, for in that song, we had made all that art is: the creation of something from nothing, fashioned with all of the soul, born from joy. And as that beautiful summer sun set over Waterbury, the Brass City, the City of Churches, our voices floated above the wonderful aromas of the garden, across the red sky and joined the spirits in eternity.

Yo caminaba por las calles de Ginebra mirándolo todo con recelo, como si de cada esquina fuera a salir el mounstro. La ciudad, como el mismo Borges decía, parece no darse cuenta cabal de que existe, y está en un país que parece pesar sobre el mundo sin sobresaltos, pero es en realidad una ciudad fantástica en un país que, más allá de sus cavernas de lingotes y de su manía de tasar el tiempo en relojes, ha engrendrado cismas y revoluciones, convulsiones del arte y cataclismos de la fe, cerebros iluminados por tempestades eléctricas y obras que significaron la aniquilación de cánones y estéticas. Me dije que esa ciudad que se finge tan serena y tan clásica, esa ciudad de relojes y de lingotes de oro, ocultaba detrás de la máscara su rostro verdadero de pesadillas y de cismas, y que eso la hacía más atractiva.

There are no clean victories for black people, nor, perhaps, for any people. The presidency of Barack Obama is no different. One can now say that an African American individual can rise to the same level as a white individual, and yet also say that the number of black individuals who actually qualify for that status will be small. One thinks of Serena Williams, whose dominance and stunning achievements can’t, in and of themselves, ensure equal access to tennis facilities for young black girls. The gate is open and yet so very far away.

It turns out that when people assess your skills, they put more weight on your peaks18 than on your troughs. Even if you happened to see Serena Williams repeatedly double-fault on her serve, you’d recognize her excellence if you witnessed just one of her aces. When Steve Jobs flopped with the Apple Lisa, people still deemed him a visionary for his feats with the Mac. And we judge Shakespeare’s genius by his masterpieces (think Hamlet and King Lear), forgiving his forgettable plays (I’m looking at you, Timon of Athens and The Merry Wives of Windsor). People judge your potential from your best moments, not your worst. What if you gave yourself the same grace?

That word “unreasonable” was meant to shut us down—to end the conversation, as it so often does. Instead, it started one, and became our call to arms. Because no one who ever changed the game did so by being reasonable. Serena Williams. Walt Disney. Steve Jobs. Martin Scorsese. Prince. Look across every discipline, in every arena—sports, entertainment, design, technology, finance—you need to be unreasonable to see a world that doesn’t yet exist.

In late 2019, I had a chance to talk with Serena Williams. I hadn’t researched her childhood at all, but I had heard that it was a Tiger story. I was only slightly surprised when she complicated that notion. Her father was ahead of his time, she told me. She participated in ballet, gymnastics, taekwondo, and track and field. She and Venus threw a football to develop the motion for a powerful serve, a habit they continued as professionals.

Before my executive functions start to jam, a stream of thoughts and stimuli is set in motion that no amount of filtering can remedy. You could compare it to one of those machines that shoots out tennis balls, except that it’s set to Serena Williams while I’m here having my first tennis lesson. With every tennis ball that zooms past me, the adrenaline rises. That’s how it works when someone with autism wants to tidy up.

I identify with the emotions and feelings of Richard Dove Williams Jr. (Tennis Coach & Father of Serena and Venus Williams). I want my Trainees and Students to become World Champions.

Victory is temporary, but joy is eternal. Grateful for all of the joyful moments, big and small.

The world knows me as someone who puts so much time and hard work into my game and through it all I’ve realized you have to find the joys that make the journey worth it.

While motherhood has been one of her greatest joys, she also wants to let the world in on how challenging it can be to juggle everything on her plate.

hit the ball 120 miles per hour!

Roxanne Shanté out-rapping grown men at fourteen. Serena winning the US Open at seventeen. Mary Shelley writing Frankenstein at eighteen. Josephine Baker conquering Paris at nineteen. Zelda Fitzgerald’s high school diary was so fire that her future husband stole entire passages to write The Great Gatsby. The eighteenth-century poet Phillis Wheatley published her first piece at fourteen, while enslaved. Joan of Arc. Greta Thunberg. Teen girls rearrange the fucking world.

I’ve grown most not from victories, but setbacks. If winning is God’s reward, then losing is how he teaches us. SERENA WILLIAMS,

I feel something when a white woman mocks the body of Serena Williams by stuffing padding in her skirt and top. When First Lady Michelle Obama is called a monkey. When nine men and women are murdered in a church because they are Black. I feel anger. Even more frustrating, there are so few acceptable occasions for my rage to be expressed. Because I am a Black person, my anger is considered dangerous, explosive, and unwarranted. Because I am a woman, my anger supposedly reveals an emotional problem or gets dismissed as a temporary state that will go away once I choose to be rational. Because I am a Christian, my anger is dismissed as a character flaw, showing just how far I have turned from Jesus. Real Christians are nice, kind, forgiving—and anger is none of those things.

18. Johnson, Sophie, Inspiring Women: Biographies of Oprah Winfrey, J. K. Rowling, Michelle Obama, Sheryl Sandberg and Serena Williams, publicación independiente,

I've grown most not from victories, but setbacks. If winning is God's reward, then losing is how he teaches us.

I don't like to lose - at anything… yet I've grown most not from victories, but setbacks. If winning is God's reward, then losing is how He teaches us.

I really think a champion is defined not by their wins,but by how they can recover when they fall.

In many of the cases that have been studied, children with talented siblings also had one or both parents encouraging them as well. The Polgár sisters we know about, and Mozart too: his father was not far behind László Polgár in his focus on developing a prodigy. Similarly, Serena and Venus Williams’s father, Richard Williams, started them on tennis with the intention of turning them into tennis professionals. In such cases it can be hard to disentangle the influence of the siblings from that of the parents. But it is probably no coincidence in these cases that it is generally the younger siblings who have reached greater heights. Part of it may be that the parents learn from their experiences with the older siblings and do a better job with the younger ones, but it is also likely that the presence of an older sibling fully engaged in an activity provides a number of advantages for the younger sibling. By watching an older sibling engaging in an activity, a younger child may become interested in—and get started on—that activity much sooner than he or she might otherwise. The older sibling can teach the younger one, and it can seem more like fun than lessons provided by the parent. And competition between siblings will likely be more helpful to the younger sibling than the older one because the older one will naturally have greater skills, at least for a number of years. Bloom found a slightly different pattern in the early days of the children who would grow up to be mathematicians and neurologists than in the athletes, musicians, and artists. In this case the parents didn’t introduce the children to the particular subject matter but rather to the appeal of intellectual pursuits in general. They encouraged their children’s curiosity, and reading was a major pastime, with the parents reading to the children early on, and the children reading books themselves later. They also encouraged their children to build models or science projects—activities that could be considered educational—as part of their play. But

When we win the award, I feel something. When we get the promotion, I feel something. When we break barriers, I feel something. But I also feels something when we are dying in the streets. When we are derided for our bodies even as white women try to imitate them. When feminism is limited to the needs of whiteness, or when Blackness is used for profit without acknowledging the brilliance of the creators. I feel something when a white woman mocks the body of Serena Williams by stuffing padding in her skirt and top. When First Lady Michelle Obama is called a monkey. When nine men and women are murdered in a church because they are Black.

The human brain loves a challenge, but only if it is within an optimal zone of difficulty. If you love tennis and try to play a serious match against a four-year-old, you will quickly become bored. It’s too easy. You’ll win every point. In contrast, if you play a professional tennis player like Roger Federer or Serena Williams, you will quickly lose motivation because the match is too difficult. Now consider playing tennis against someone who is your equal. As the game progresses, you win a few points and you lose a few. You have a good chance of winning, but only if you really try. Your focus narrows, distractions fade away, and you find yourself fully invested in the task at hand. This is a challenge of just manageable difficulty and it is a prime example of the Goldilocks Rule.

The assumption of black women’s incompetence—we cannot know ourselves, express ourselves in a way that the context will render legible, or that prompts people with power to respond to us as agentic beings—supersedes even the most powerful status cultures in all of neoliberal capitalism: wealth and fame. In 2017 Serena Williams gave birth to her daughter. She celebrated with an interview, as is the ritual custom of celebrity cultures. In the interview, Serena describes how she had to bring to bear the full force of her authority as a global superstar to convince a nurse that she needed a treatment. The treatment likely saved Serena’s life. Many black women are not so lucky.

I love who I am, and I encourage other people to love and embrace who they are. But it definitely wasn't easy; it took me awhile.