Tragedy can strike if they don’t

At a swim meet just outside St. Louis, heads turned when a team of young swimmers walked through the rec center with their parents in tow.

A supportive mom kept her eye on the clock while the Makos Swim Team athletes tucked their natural curls, braids, and locs into yellow swimming caps. In the bleachers, spectators whispered about the team’s presence at the pool in Centralia, Illinois—as they do at almost every competition.

“They don’t know that we’re listening,” Randella Randell, a swimmer’s mom, later said. “But we’re here to stay. We’re here to represent. We’re going to show you that Black kids know how to swim. We swim, too.”

Randell’s son, Elijah Gilliam, 14, is a member of the Makos’ competitive YMCA and U.S. Swimming program based in North St. Louis. Almost 40 athletes, ages 4 to 19, swim on the squad, which encourages Black and multiracial kids to participate in the sport. Coached by Terea Goodwin and Torrie Preciado, the team also spreads the word about water safety in their community.

“If we can get everybody to learn how to swim, just that little bit, it would save so many lives,” said Goodwin, a kitchen and bathroom designer by day who is known as Coach T at the pool. “Swimming is life.”

But just like mako sharks, such teams of Black swimmers are rare. Detroit has the Razor Aquatics, Howard University in Washington, D.C., has a team that’s made headlines for winning championships, and some alums from North Carolina A&T’s former swim team created a group to offer water safety classes.

In the past, Black Americans were barred from many public swimming pools. When racial segregation was officially banned, white Americans established private swim clubs that required members to pay a fee that wasn’t always affordable. As a result, swimming remained effectively segregated, and many Black Americans stayed away from pools.

The impact is still felt. More than a third of Black adults report they do not know how to swim, according to Centers for Disease Control and Prevention statistics, more than twice the rate for adults overall.

Seeing a need in their community, the parents of the Makos swimmers formed the Black Swimmers Alliance at the end of 2023 with a goal of “bridging the gap in aquatic skills,” according to its website. But the group, which offers swim lessons to families of color, is concerned about the flow of grant money dwindling because of the recent federal backlash against diversity, equity, and inclusion programs. Even so, they are fundraising directly on their own, because lives are being lost.

In late January, a 6-year-old died at a hotel pool in St. Louis. A boy the same age drowned while taking swim lessons at a St. Louis County pool in 2022. And across the river in Hamel, Illinois, a 3-year-old boy drowned in a backyard pool last summer.

Drowning is the leading cause of death for children ages 1 through 4, according to the CDC. Black children and Black adults drown far more often than their white peers.

Members of the Black Swimmers Alliance discussed those statistics before their advocacy work began. They also had to address another issue—many of the adult volunteers and parents with children on the Makos team didn’t know how to swim. Even though their children were swimming competitively, the fear of drowning and the repercussions of history had kept the parents out of the pool.

The Makos athletes also noticed that their parents were timid around water. That’s when their roles reversed. The children started to look out for the grown-ups.

Safety is always a priority for the Makos team. Coach T makes the athletes practice swimming in full clothing as a survival skill.

2025 KFF Health News. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.

At a swim meet just outside St. Louis, heads turned when a team of young swimmers walked through the rec center with their parents in tow.

A supportive mom kept her eye on the clock while the Makos Swim Team athletes tucked their natural curls, braids, and locs into yellow swimming caps. In the bleachers, spectators whispered about the team’s presence at the pool in Centralia, Illinois—as they do at almost every competition.

“They don’t know that we’re listening,” Randella Randell, a swimmer’s mom, later said. “But we’re here to stay. We’re here to represent. We’re going to show you that Black kids know how to swim. We swim, too.”

Randell’s son, Elijah Gilliam, 14, is a member of the Makos’ competitive YMCA and U.S. Swimming program based in North St. Louis. Almost 40 athletes, ages 4 to 19, swim on the squad, which encourages Black and multiracial kids to participate in the sport. Coached by Terea Goodwin and Torrie Preciado, the team also spreads the word about water safety in their community.

“If we can get everybody to learn how to swim, just that little bit, it would save so many lives,” said Goodwin, a kitchen and bathroom designer by day who is known as Coach T at the pool. “Swimming is life.”

But just like mako sharks, such teams of Black swimmers are rare. Detroit has the Razor Aquatics, Howard University in Washington, D.C., has a team that’s made headlines for winning championships, and some alums from North Carolina A&T’s former swim team created a group to offer water safety classes.

In the past, Black Americans were barred from many public swimming pools. When racial segregation was officially banned, white Americans established private swim clubs that required members to pay a fee that wasn’t always affordable. As a result, swimming remained effectively segregated, and many Black Americans stayed away from pools.

The impact is still felt. More than a third of Black adults report they do not know how to swim, according to Centers for Disease Control and Prevention statistics, more than twice the rate for adults overall.

Seeing a need in their community, the parents of the Makos swimmers formed the Black Swimmers Alliance at the end of 2023 with a goal of “bridging the gap in aquatic skills,” according to its website. But the group, which offers swim lessons to families of color, is concerned about the flow of grant money dwindling because of the recent federal backlash against diversity, equity, and inclusion programs. Even so, they are fundraising directly on their own, because lives are being lost.

In late January, a 6-year-old died at a hotel pool in St. Louis. A boy the same age drowned while taking swim lessons at a St. Louis County pool in 2022. And across the river in Hamel, Illinois, a 3-year-old boy drowned in a backyard pool last summer.

Drowning is the leading cause of death for children ages 1 through 4, according to the CDC. Black children and Black adults drown far more often than their white peers.

Members of the Black Swimmers Alliance discussed those statistics before their advocacy work began. They also had to address another issue—many of the adult volunteers and parents with children on the Makos team didn’t know how to swim. Even though their children were swimming competitively, the fear of drowning and the repercussions of history had kept the parents out of the pool.

The Makos athletes also noticed that their parents were timid around water. That’s when their roles reversed. The children started to look out for the grown-ups.

Safety is always a priority for the Makos team. Coach T makes the athletes practice swimming in full clothing as a survival skill.

2025 KFF Health News. Distributed by Tribune Content Agency, LLC.