It’s easy to understand why LeBron James, the NBA’s biggest star, decided not to display one of 29 league-approved statements on the back of his Los Angeles Lakers jersey this season in place of his own name.

Two years ago, in one of her most famous instances of white nationalist tap-dancing, Laura Ingraham was miffed that James dared criticize Donald Trump. “It’s always unwise to seek political advice from someone who gets paid a hundred million dollars a year to bounce a ball,” she told viewers of The Ingraham Angle. High-pitched indignance rose in her voice as she mentioned the money.

She concluded her race-baiting two-minute monologue by advising James, one of the most important figures in sports history, to “shut up and dribble.” Don’t speak out on social issues.

Ingraham’s slimy commentary is relevant again today, with the NBA allowing players to put certain social messages on their jersey backs. Disdain for athletes who dare have their own political opinions is not uncommon; Senator Kelly Loeffler of Georgia, minority owner of the Atlanta Dream franchise, said the only message she wants to see on WNBA players’ jerseys is the American flag.

Yet the NBA signed off on more than two dozen acceptable statements, including “Speak Up,” “Anti-Racist” and “How Many More.” In some respects, letting these highly visible individuals “speak” while they actually are dribbling feels like a sincere gesture. But like a tattoo, it superficially allows players to wear their hearts on their sleeves, to adorn themselves in language signifying a sort of dignified dissent. Forty-eight players will display “Black Lives Matter,” including Houston Rockets point guard Russell Westbrook. Just five picked “Love Us,” including 2020 Slam Dunk Contest winner Derrick Jones of the Miami Heat; four selected “Say Her Name,” a slogan that many began to use after the death of Sandra Bland and continues to be a rallying cry following the inexcusable police killing of Breonna Taylor. Of the permitted messages, the most popular, according to NBA.com, is “Equality”—77 players (counting the entire Dallas Mavericks roster) will sport the word across their shoulders.

Speaking of shoulders, being a popular professional athlete in America is a little reminiscent of Atlas, one of the Titans of Greek mythology. Not unlike pro players, the Titans were seemingly unrestricted by normal human limitations, achieved great things, inspired others to be more like them and were worshipped for their greatness. When the Titans were defeated by the Olympians, Atlas was made into an example: His body belonged to the conquerors. Atlas was forced to carry the celestial spheres of the heavens on his shoulders. These spheres were said to be made of quintessence, defined by Merriam-Webster as “the essence of a thing in its purest and most concentrated form.”

It appears the NBA has begun this pandemic season of basketball with a quintessential example of missing the point. They seem to have been more interested in telegraphing ownership over players instead of giving them freedom on the court to express in their own words solidarity with fans on racial inequality, social injustice, police brutality and extrajudicial killings of unarmed Black men and women.

Along with actual games, these modern titans of the NBA may win the hearts and minds of people who don’t yet understand the stakes (that is, if the season survives). But by requiring all the jersey “protest” statements to be management-approved, the league has won the real battle for control of the collective narrative. This is why the NBA’s statement-making jerseys are barely worth a shrug.

I too wouldn’t wear a jersey with someone else’s message on my back. Racial inequities in professional sports, from ownership to coaching, are well-documented. Today, as the U.S. is being called to account by African Americans and other minority groups voicing their experiences with racism, highly visible Black athletes are again providing a platform for national conversations on injustice and systemic oppression.

But quasi-customized jerseys bearing pre-selected phrases are hardly what the Founding Fathers fought for, nor what enslaved Africans died for. If we’re being real, it’s a flaccid attempt by the NBA to feign allyship with the people who suffer most from American oppression.

Underneath it all is the question of ownership. Do players own the shirts on their backs, or even their own bodies, as contractually bound NBA athletes? This is significant, considering that the U.S. was essentially built on the backs of Black Americans whose backs were lashed with whips hundreds of years ago. And under the “leadership” of Donald Trump, Blacks are lashed today with words of intolerance and hate, excusing others to express dominion over our bodies.

Fans expect players to carry and amplify messages they themselves aren’t empowered to spread as broadly. Yet if these messages have to be negotiated beforehand, they don’t really belong to the players; they belong to the owners. And by putting the owners’ messages on the backs of players, by erasing those players’ names and voices, the teams essentially treat the players as their own property.

Without more owners with Black skin, it doesn’t matter what’s on the shirt a player wears. Ultimately, they’re still being told to shut up and dribble.

Shit, if I were LeBron James, I’d wear my own name too.