Objective Truth vs. Contextual Truth: Why We Keep Talking Past Each Other
How ignoring context shuts down meaningful dialogue on race, justice, and culture.
One recurring problem in race-based discussions today is the constant clash between objective truth and contextual truth. These two “truths” are often wielded against each other, not to illuminate the full picture, but to invalidate the other side’s point. This dynamic shuts down meaningful dialogue and prevents us from making real progress.
So, what do I mean by “objective truth” and “contextual truth”?
Objective truth refers to facts in isolation — the observable reality of what happened. For example, a Black man committed a crime, was arrested by the police, and sentenced to jail. Those are the cold, hard facts. Similarly, it is objectively true that Caitlin Clark, a white athlete, recently said the WNBA has been built by black women.
Contextual truth, on the other hand, places those facts within a broader social and historical framework. It considers patterns, systems, and lived experiences that shape outcomes. In the first example, the contextual truth is that white individuals who commit similar crimes are often arrested less frequently, sentenced more leniently, or even spared incarceration altogether. The justice system has long exhibited racial bias, and this systemic disparity cannot be ignored.
The same dynamic plays out in sports conversations. A white male friend of mine recently asked me about a discussion on CNN where sports journalist Cari Champion, a Black woman, defended Caitlin Clark’s statement on her white privilege and the contributions of Black women to women’s basketball. Champion’s defense was met with criticism from political commentator Scott Jennings, who argued that sports is the one place where nobody has any privilege at all. Jennings said, “[Caitlin] doesn’t get any extra points when she shoots; she gets the same number of points as everybody else. Sports is the great equalizer…it felt like she was groveling for no reason.”
On the surface, Jennings’ statement reflects an objective truth: the rules of the game are the same for everyone. A basket earns the same points regardless of who shoots it. But his comment completely disregards the contextual truth. Sports do not exist in a vacuum. While the rules may be equal, access, opportunities, visibility, and recognition have long been shaped by systemic inequities. Women’s sports — and particularly Black women in sports — have had to fight for everything from media coverage to sponsorship deals, all while navigating racial and gendered biases.
Consider Caitlin Clark’s acknowledgment. She said what is undeniably true: “A lot of those players in the league that have been really good have been Black players. This league has kind of been built on them.” This statement, simple and factual, holds a larger contextual truth. Black women athletes have been foundational to the WNBA, yet their contributions are often overlooked or undervalued. For Clark, a white player in a sport where Black women have historically been the backbone, recognizing this truth should not be controversial.
But it becomes so because sports — like society — reflects deeper divisions. Compare this to male sports: when a white kid says, “(I Wanna) Be Like Mike” or “LeBron James is my idol,” no one calls it divisive. The context of male sports — where Black athletes’ dominance is normalized — makes such statements unremarkable. In women’s sports, however, recognition of Black excellence can be polarizing because it challenges deeply embedded narratives about race, gender, and who gets to be celebrated.
Why does this happen?
The answer is both simple and troubling: objective truth and contextual truth are often weaponized. Some use objective truth to dismiss systemic inequities, as if isolated facts exist outside the larger societal patterns that shape them. Others might lean so heavily on contextual truth that they disregard facts entirely, creating a false narrative.
The result is a stalemate. Groups cling to their preferred version of truth — objective or contextual — to either uphold claims of supremacy, reinforce victimhood, or avoid accountability. These debates become less about understanding and more about winning.
But here’s the reality: objective truths and contextual truths are not mutually exclusive. In fact, they are both necessary for meaningful dialogue and progress. The facts matter, but so does the context in which those facts occur. If we truly care about justice, accountability, and understanding, we must learn to hold both truths at once.
So the next time you find yourself in one of these debates — whether about sentencing disparities, media narratives, or cultural influence — pause. Acknowledge the facts, but don’t ignore the context. If we can embrace both, we’ll stop talking past each other and start talking to each other.
And that’s where progress begins.
And that’s where progress begins.
