Colin Kaepernick, center, in Kaepernick & America (Tribeca Festival)

Watching Kaepernick & America in 2022 is frustrating, if not galling when you consider what the country has endured these past few years: neo-Nazis invading Charlottesville, White nationalism dominating one of our two political parties, and the increasing number of police brutality cases, not to mention the January 6th insurrection’s ongoing threat to democracy.

Yet, since taking that knee for the National Anthem in 2016, Colin Kaepernick has become so many things to the world. Revolutionary symbol. Cultural pariah. Blacklisted athlete. Scapegoat for “un-American” behavior. But co-directors Tommy Walker and Ross Hockrow’s documentary answers a question few seem interested in asking: Who is Kaepernick beyond the icon? What drives him as a person and how did his act of protest influence millions? The answer: Kaepernick’s actions were part of a constant struggle to understand himself, both as a player and a person. The backlash he endured is hardly the first time America discredited a Black athlete for speaking truth to power.

Kaepernick & America turns back the clock to Kaepernick’s origin, a biracial kid with dreams of playing for the San Francisco 49ers. This childhood was something of a crossroad. Kaepernick was always loved by his adopted White family, but without a community to put his racial identity into context, he had to learn it on his own. Meanwhile, his sports career was a classic hero’s story, going from college star to 49ers’ 2011 pick for quarterback and quickly captivating the sports world. From appearing on magazine covers to his signature bicep kiss flex (dubbed Kaepernicking), people wanted Kaepernick to go places.

It’s almost surreal watching Kaepernick showered in praise years ago, so far removed from the vitriol certain fans hold today. Interviews with the likes of former coach Jim Harbaugh and journalist Pam Oliver constantly stress their admiration for Kaepernick’s morality, both on the field and off. In his high school town of Turlock, California, Kaepernick could be seen playing games with special needs kids, even becoming the marketing face of a local hot dog restaurant. Cut to the protest’s aftermath, and that same restaurant declares it’ll remove Kaepernick Dogs as punishment for such “un-American” behavior.

The kneeling reaction is, of course, this documentary’s focal point. A decision made in response to national events like the Ferguson riots and Philando Castile’s murder, Kaepernick’s protest was straightforward, an attempt to raise awareness of ongoing injustices committed against Black citizens by law enforcement. Yet the fact that Green Beret-turned-Seattle Seahawk player Nate Boyer gave him the idea to kneel, as opposed to sitting during the National Anthem, didn’t matter. Nor did any point Kaepernick was trying to make. As soon as the media began running with the “refuse to kneel for the flag” line, that was all the validation people needed to distort Kaepernick’s message, embrace racial slurs, and blacklist him from playing professionally altogether.

Admittedly, Kaepernick & America could have benefitted from revisiting Boyer’s point of view about the protest’s aftermath. Yet Kaepernick’s plight is hardly an outlier. The film draws explicit comparisons to basketball star Mahmoud Abdul-Rauf’s refusal to rise for the Anthem in 1996 under the grounds of political protest. Watching video footage from that era, the reactions are almost a mirror of 2016: fans claiming he’s actions are un-American. From Abdul-Rauf to Vince Matthew’s clenched fist at the 1972 Olympics, the cycle continues.

It’s also a little strange how Hockrow and Walker never have Kaepernick himself in front of the camera beyond archived footage. Kaepernick & America is one-third sports documentary and two-thirds exploration of his role in the Black Lives Matter movement and its ensuing White backlash, but it doesn’t explore beyond that. We hear what others think of Kaepernick: be it a symbol of something greater or a target of pundits because he doesn’t fit a certain mold. If you admire Kaepernick, this film will affirm his integrity and commitment to BLM’s mission, taking us as far as his cultural impact on the George Floyd protests, but it feels almost Pythic given our current political climate.

Kaepernick is still living his life, proving that his athletic skills and heart haven’t diminished. It’s America, ironically, whose future is in limbo. Stuck at a crossroads where it must either have uncomfortable conversations about our country’s past to forge a better tomorrow or risk being consumed by the past’s toxic allure.