When you discover what was truly going on beneath it, a certain image sticks with you. Naomi Osaka, wearing headphones, entered another Grand Slam press room. Most people thought it was a way to stay in the zone before a game or a style choice at the time. Neither was it. She would later clarify that the purpose of the headphones was to reduce her social anxiety. She was doing what many people do, which is to find a small, workable way to get through a situation that was silently destroying her.
In a chaotic and contentious final, Osaka defeated Serena Williams to win the US Open for the first time in 2018. At the age of twenty, she became the most talked-about player in women’s tennis and, as she revealed years later, started experiencing what she called protracted depressive episodes that would accompany her career going forward. That afternoon, no one in the Arthur Ashe Stadium stands would have guessed. Osaka stood there looking almost contrite for winning, the crowd jeered the situation, and the trophy presentation was awkward. In retrospect, it’s difficult not to question how much of that was simply her personality—truly, constitutionally uneasy with the limelight she’d just entered.
The French Open in Paris in May 2021 was the turning point. Osaka announced on social media before the tournament that she would not be attending post-match press conferences due to the anxiety they caused her. The tennis establishment’s quick and callous response included threats of expulsion, a $15,000 fine, and a barrage of media criticism that seemed to validate her environmental concerns almost instantly. She completely pulled out of the competition a few days later. To the best of everyone’s memory, it was the first major tennis player to withdraw from a Grand Slam without suffering a physical injury. People’s responses were predictable: some were supportive, many weren’t, and a sizable portion seemed mainly irritated by the schedule interruption.
Her subsequent Instagram statement was more subdued and thoughtful than the surrounding cacophony. She wrote that she had been depressed since 2018, that she struggled to cope, and that her goal was to safeguard mental health, particularly her own. Reading that statement now gives me the impression that she carefully considered her words for someone who publicly acknowledges that she is not a natural public speaker. Whether she realized it or not, she was also beginning something. Simone Biles withdrew from the Tokyo Olympics in a matter of weeks, citing similar pressures. After years of circling the periphery of sports journalism, the discussion abruptly took center stage.
Osaka may have had a greater impact because she was simply describing what was happening to her rather than engaging in advocacy. Later, she wrote for Time magazine that she is naturally introverted and does not seek attention, which makes the magnitude of her platform and the level of expectations surrounding her seem a little harsh in hindsight. In her own words, she partnered with Modern Health, a workplace wellness platform, to try to lessen stigma in professional settings rather than to become a spokesperson for mental health in the traditional sense. She didn’t seem to be fully defined by her desire to accomplish something beneficial.
Osaka has talked about dealing with body image issues and the unique difficulties of going back to professional tennis after becoming a mother. This type of re-entry comes with its own set of expectations and scrutiny. She has stated that while competing at the top level of her sport, she is still learning, managing, and figuring out what good self-care looks like. It is arguably more valuable than any well-crafted advocacy campaign when that honesty is presented without a resolution or neat conclusion. It is improper for elite athletes to acknowledge that they are learning. Despite this, Osaka continues to do it.