I just watched Naomi Osaka on Netflix and I was quietly pleased.

Not only do I wish she was around when I was a kid, but I’d even buy the Naomi Osaka Barbie Doll. Yes, she has one!

It’s no surprise that Naomi Osaka was released on Netflix only a week leading up to the Olympic Games in Tokyo. And if you happened to catch the opening ceremony you might have seen her light the Olympic Cauldron.

Currently ranked Number Two by the World Tennis Association, the four-time Grand Slam champion comes across in the self-titled Netflix series as introverted, quietly confident, softly spoken and shy in the public eye. 

Osaka is of mixed race heritage: her mother is Japanese and her father, Haitian. And although she grew up in Florida, as the story progresses it’s clear she has an affinity with her Japanese roots.

So when asked why she chose to represent Japan instead of the U.S Osaka is quick to respond: “I was born in Japan.”

At this point her mother also chimes in commenting on her daughter’s lucrative sponsorship deals there.

But I think the most telling part in the story is when the 23-year-old hands over the spotlight to a teary-eyed Cori Gauff aka Coco (who is currently unable to compete at the Olympics due to testing positive for Covid). 

The media interview follows Osaka’s win and watching this is both heart-warming and slightly awkward, as she praises Coco live at the stadium. Coco by this point is barely holding it together and I think the audience - and maybe the world- might have been taken aback at that moment.

Why would Osaka do that after winning the game when she should be reveling in the glory of her own achievements and sharing that with a cheering and adoring crowd? I don’t think I’ve ever seen that kind of sportsmanship before. Although, I’m pretty sure I know where it comes from. 

Having had my fair share of Japanese friends, I also grew up obsessed with everything about Japanese culture to the point I wanted to forgo my own heritage. In Chinese culture ‘humility’ is important, and for the Japanese, there is an emphasis on “KENKYO”  which means ‘humbleness.’

Displaying humbleness is also a form of politeness. If someone compliments you, you compliment them back, often placing them higher than yourself.  So while I’m not an expert, there was something I recognised in Osaka’s gesture. 

Allowing the defeated Coco to stand momentarily in the spotlight was as much about boosting the much younger player, but something that came naturally to Osaka due in part to herJapanese upbringing. In a western context this can work to your own detriment. Without giving too much away, that ‘gesture’ feels almost more uncomfortable later down the track.   

Naomi Osaka has been tagged a ‘cultural icon.’

The series is spit into three episodes which move between Osaka’s home, the court, various games, photo shoots and even some downtime with her sister, Mari, who recently retired from playing professional tennis. 

The two have a lovely connection and we watch as Osaka takes photos for her sister’s instagram account. From there they discuss their shared love of fashion, and suddenly, Osaka is front row at a New York fashion show. 

At this point I was confused as to what was going on. Other than a bit of murmuring amongst Osaka’s team it wasn’t obvious as to whether she was showing a collection or simply attending a show for the first time. That is, until she jumps up at the end to join Japanese designer, Hanako Maeda, on the catwalk before heading back down the runway with the models. 

This, as it turns out is Osaka’s first official outing in the industry - a collaboration between Osaka and Maeda and her label ADEAM. The collection made its debut in February 2020, just months before the world went into lockdown.

Working alongside a Japanese designer and taking the collection to New York puts a new spin on Osaka’s public persona, creating a different kind of energy and interest outside her tennis career. As an early twenty-something, it also reveals a lighter, fun side to her that we don’t really see much of during the series. The collection and collaboration is subtly infused with a Japanese sensibility, reinforcing her ties to her cultural identity.

And questions around how she ‘identifies’ come to the fore throughout the series in both quiet reflection, and situations where she addresses it aloud. This becomes particularly pertinent once the Black Lives Matters protests and marches begin. 

Osaka is torn between where she sits as a woman of Japanese and Haitian descent. And to my mind this is one of the most important parts of the story. She talks candidly, but briefly about the difference between nationality and ethnicity because others simply see her as black and they believe she should align with the movement.  

Netflix series ‘Naomi Osaka’ is a slice of life insight.

If you’re mixed race or you were brought up in another culture, then you’ll know where she’s coming from. Others, as it turns out are much more difficult to educate - namely, the general public who can’t seem to understand the difference. 

Ultimately Osaka makes the decision to join the march, and comes to the realisation that she is in a privileged position to make a difference. 

Osaka picks seven names - victims of police brutality - wearing one name on a different mask each day during the U.S Open in 2020. The names include Breonna Taylor who was shot in Louisville during a ‘botched raid,’ and Tamir Rice, a 12-year-old killed by police in Cleveland in 2014.

For a young player to make such a bold statement, but one that is equally quiet and thought-provoking proves that you don’t have to scream out loud to speak volumes. At this point, I couldn’t help but do a little internal ‘happy dance.’

For Osaka, taking this stance made global headlines.

Osaka of course, is smart enough to know how to work the media, but there is nothing extreme or showy about the way she conducts herself. There are a few moments, and one in particular, where Osaka is posing during a photo shoot under hot studio lights with numerous outfit changes, and you can’t help but feel she’s ‘grinning and bearing it.’ 

I’ve never really followed tennis before. Actually, point blank I have NEVER followed tennis to the point I didn’t know Anna Kournikova wasn’t one of the world’s top players, but a mere product of clever sports marketing. But as I watch the series, I find myself buying into Osaka and what she stands for.

Right from the get-go the tempo of the series is pretty slow going and I would have preferred to watch a faster-paced, more dynamic 50-minute version, rather than three, 35-40minute episodes. I watch a lot of documentaries and this still doesn’t quite work as a three-part series. But given the drawn-out, and at times, meandering pace a feature-length version primarily featuring interviews and insights from the softly-spoken Osaka, might not have cut it. 

The series is directed by Garrett Bradley, primarily a short filmmaker, with Le Bron James listed as one of three producers. 

If anything, Bradley has captured much of Osaka’s ‘quiet’ inner world at a time when everything around her is chaotic and out of her control. Even the scenes from the #BLM marches feel slow and almost dreamlike, as they transition quietly back to more of Osaka’s reflective mood.  

After watching the series, I found myself checking her out on Instagram. In one of her recent posts, she commented on feeling anxious about the release of the series, because ‘it shows so much of who she truly is.’ That comment has since been replaced with a red heart emoji, followed by a steady stream of supportive comments.

If you’re a fan of Osaka’s then this series is a must-see. If you like sports documentaries, this might pique your interest, but again, the pace is slow.If you’re mixed race, or know what it’s like to be a minority you might find the tennis superstar and her modest, down-to-earth personality endearing.

Conversely, if you’ve never understood what it’s like to be on the outside looking in, stop for a second to watch this series. You’ll quickly realise that everything you thought you understood, or knew, is completely wrong. 

While nothing stands out in terms of Bradley’s direction, the story is one of value.  

Why? Because representation is everything. 

Osaka’s visibility in a sport that has for decades been largely mono-cultural, reflects a shift in mood. The four-time grand slam champion is humble and doesn’t attempt to escape from who she is. Nor does she ram it down our throats. Instead, she quietly and subversively reveals herself as an athlete with integrity who stands by her values and beliefs, proving she will not be easily swayed. That in itself must be difficult to do with the whole world watching and judging your every move. But sometimes going against the grain is necessary.

Her decision to boycott media interviews this year at the French Open illustrates just that. At the time, Osaka cited mental health as being part of that decision-making process. But after some pushback from the organisation, Osaka withdrew from the tournament altogether. 

My question: why shouldn’t she? 

When athletes suffer from physical injuries it’s a given that they step out of the limelight, so why not the same with mental health in a high-pressure sports environment? Surely, protecting an athlete's total well-being in the long term leads to greater longevity and a feeling of being supported in the sport. Add the threat of Covid-19 on top the other pressures in Osaka’s professional life, and it is no surprise that sometimes it all gets a bit much.

As a result of speaking out on mental health and her actions around Black Lives Matter, Osaka has been tagged ‘an activist’ and ‘an icon for generations.’ And after watching the series, I’m all in.

I only wish Osaka was around when I was growing up, but I’m thankful that young girls and women have this incredible human being to look up to. Someone who is not only athletically gifted and humble, but who also never shies away from who she truly is.

And to that end, Osaka’s presence in the sports world is necessary, and her place in the spotlight, essential.