What Do We Make of Colin Kaepernick Now?

The Washington Post

14:47 JST, February 8, 2026

SAN FRANCISCO – The most relevant figure to Super Bowl LX is absent from it. The game will be played in his former home stadium, in the place where his protest made him a national lightning rod and a global symbol. The social issues swirling around America’s largest sporting spectacle carry distinct echoes of what prompted his actions and what led to his exile. And yet he remains outside the conversation and invisible within the confines of the NFL.

Colin Kaepernick might as well be a ghost.

“Colin Kaepernick?” Seattle Seahawks safety Julian Love said this week, as if hearing a name he had not considered in a long time. “Oh, wow.”

This summer will bring the 10-year anniversary of the first time Kaepernick sat as the national anthem played before a preseason San Francisco 49ers game. He soon switched to a kneeling position out of respect for military members. The image of Kaepernick on a knee became a worldwide emblem of protest against police violence and racial injustice, and a tempest that led to unwanted political entanglement for the NFL, fierce ire from the political right and Kaepernick’s ostracism from professional football.

The current moment and the Super Bowl’s location provide a platform to examine the legacies of Kaepernick’s protest. Kaepernick served as a flash point, and even as he semi-receded from public life, his influence hovers over the league as an example of both courage and consequences.

“He made a decision to talk about something other than football that ultimately resulted in every player in the National Football League kneeling when the president of the United States called all of their mothers a b—-,” said DeMaurice Smith, who was the NFL Players Association executive director during Kaepernick’s protest. “For a guy that literally begged for players to engage in collective action, Colin was more successful than I ever was.”

Assessing Kaepernick’s legacy also means grappling with the backlash. He raised awareness on issues the country had long ignored, several years before the nation’s racial reckoning in the wake of George Floyd’s killing. His boldness and prescience did not ensure triumph. Donald Trump, the president who referred to players who knelt as “that son of a b—-,” won reelection. Mass demonstrations have erupted in multiple cities against the tactics of federal policing forces and immigration agents, culminating with the killings of U.S. citizens Renée Good and Alex Pretti at the hands of federal agents.

“The problems he knelt against haven’t improved,” said Vann Graves, the executive director of Virginia Commonwealth University’s Brandcenter, which studies advertising and the branding industry. “They’ve metastasized.”

Even as it stands astride American culture, the NFL has managed to sidestep involvement in the widespread national tension. Players have largely remained silent. Denver Broncos offensive lineman Quinn Meinerz wrote “Abolish ICE” in a since-deleted Instagram story, but experts have not seen current players pick up Kaepernick’s mantle. It has not been a topic at the Super Bowl. Kaepernick’s exclusion from the league created “a chilling effect” on players, Villanova sociology professor Glenn Bracey said.

Kaepernick’s protest “permanently changed the boundaries of what the league will tolerate,” said Michigan State professor Christina Myers, who has written extensively about race and sports. “Kaepernick forced the NFL – and the country overall, really – to confront police violence and racial injustices on football’s stage. And in doing so, he exposed how tightly the league links patriotism, profit and control. His protest made racial injustice impossible to ignore, but it also triggered a backlash so severe that it’s functioned as a warning.

“The league officially absorbed his language – slogans like ‘Inspire Change’ – while rejecting his message and himself. That co-optation is part of his legacy – activism rebranded as corporate messaging, stripped of disruption. We are seeing those elements as it relates to the players.”

The NFL’s monocultural dominance and historic, perhaps inherent ties to patriotism for years frequently placed the league inevitably in the crosshairs of political storms. Kaepernick’s protest inflamed those ties, to the league’s financial detriment. In the fall of 2017, a nationwide poll conducted by The Washington Post and the University of Massachusetts at Lowell found that 17 percent of fans who said their interest in the NFL had decreased specifically cited anthem protests or Kaepernick – a greater cause than head injuries or violence. Owners treated fan sentiment as a crisis.

In the decade since, the NFL has flowed with political and cultural shifts. After the killing of George Floyd, the league released a statement that players roundly criticized as perfunctory and unacceptable. In alignment with the national racial reckoning of the moment, Commissioner Roger Goodell responded with a video in which he apologized and said, “We, the National Football League, believe Black Lives Matter.” Goodell may have been acting out of his personal moral imperative as opposed to the will of the NFL’s team owners, from whom all the league’s power truly flows. But it still shifted how the league publicly presented itself. The league also committed to donate $90 million to social justice initiatives.

Ultimately, the NFL has seemingly attempted to separate itself from social activism and political matters. Last year, in the first Super Bowl after Trump’s second inauguration, the NFL changed the motto it stenciled in the end zones from “End Racism” to “Choose Love.” The league insisted it made the switch in response to recent tragedies, including a mass killing in New Orleans.

To many, the change appeared to be a reflection of how the league – and specifically the league’s owners – viewed the promotion of social justice slogans from their introduction.

“Nobody called me when I was the [executive director] and said, ‘Hey man, we’ve come to grips with our White male fragility and are now understanding the whole system is rigged and gosh darn it, we’re going to do something about it,’” Smith said. “Nobody gave me that call. When they do put it in, why would I be so naive to believe they had come to some sort of self-awakening? And if they decide to take it out, why would I ever believe they are reneging on said awakening?”

NFL spokesman Brian McCarthy did not respond to multiple messages.

The league remains selective in how it interfaces with societal issues. The NFL instructed the Green Bay Packers to hold a moment of silence for conservative firebrand Charlie Kirk before a Thursday night game the day after his murder last fall, and that Sunday several NFL teams held moments of silence of their own volition. At the Super Bowl, players will wear a jersey patch commemorating the 250th anniversary of America, and the same logo will be imprinted on the ball.

The Minnesota Vikings joined a letter signed by dozens of local businesses calling for the “immediate de-escalation of tensions” in Minneapolis. The NFL has released no statements about federal agents shooting and killing U.S. citizens in that city.

Kaepernick himself maintains a limited public profile. He rarely gives media interviews. He collaborated with Spike Lee on a multipart documentary tentatively titled “Da Saga of Colin Kaepernick,” which was set to appear on ESPN before production was halted last summer. Kaepernick and his wife have written multiple children’s books. His activism focuses mostly on his Know Your Rights Camp, which deals with youth education and enrichment.

“Kaepernick has become a symbol rather than a participant,” Myers said. He’s “become this moral reference point rather than an active quarterback.”

At the Super Bowl hosted by his former team, Kaepernick was rarely broached. When asked about him, current players viewed Kaepernick with reverence.

“Oh, yeah, Colin Kaepernick,” Seattle star wide receiver Jaxon Smith-Njigba said. “I mean, a legend. Definitely respect him and all the things he was able to do on the field and fight for off the field. I have a lot of respect for him. It takes a lot to stand up for what you believe in. As long as it’s not causing danger and harm and stuff like that, I can go for it.”

“It’s bigger than football,” Love said. “It’s a legacy of standing on what you believe in and just being unapologetic about it. It goes along with his message, but it goes along with a lot of things that are going on today. He had to do it alone a lot of the time. I was probably in high school when that was going on. But it’s as prevalent now as it was back then.”

The NFL has dodged any controversy or connection to current events. Even within its own sphere, issues of diversity and inclusion have been de-emphasized. Last week, the surprise of Bill Belichick missing induction into the Hall of Fame garnered more coverage and outrage than the NFL’s coaching cycle ending with no Black coaches hired for 10 openings.

“The silence there is very, very loud from athletes both in and outside of Minneapolis,” said Ayesha Bell Hardaway, director of Case Western Reserve University’s Social Justice Institute. “That, too, is Colin’s legacy. The impact of him paying that consequence, we should all wonder if what he had to endure has made others feel as if they cannot speak out and therefore not speak out.”

“The uncomfortable truth is that Kaepernick’s impact on the NFL was ultimately contained,” Graves said. “The protest was absorbed, metabolized and excreted as corporate social responsibility.”

Kaepernick resonated differently in 2017 than he does today, just as he will resonate differently 50 years from now. At the moment, his aims appear just as far from being met – if not further – than when he knelt. But that, to many supporters, is wholly beside the point.

“Leaders write a story going forward, and the rest of us read a book that was written backward,” Smith said. “A trailblazer’s courage lies in not knowing the ending. You do it going forward in the hope that it makes a positive difference. What Colin did was far too noble, far too brave and far too visionary for him to be judged by anybody else’s sense of backlash.”

In some ways, the ebb of Kaepernick’s influence may have been foreseeable. In January 2020, University of California at Berkeley sociology professor Harry Edwards led a reporter through an exhibit about the Olympic Project for Human Rights, which he helped organize, at the San Jose Museum of Art.

“One of the things that is clear is that all such movements, they come with an expiration date on them, and it’s six years,” Edwards said then. “In six years, it’s over. This thing with Kaepernick has run out of time.”

For the youngest NFL players, who were not even high-schoolers in 2016, Colin Kaepernick is a quarterback who was exiled after kneeling during the national anthem, and Donald Trump is a politician who runs for president every four years and usually wins. Players in their early 20s know what Kaepernick did and what happened to him, but they may not understand the gravity of his protest.

“I am afraid that he isn’t staying in young people’s minds in the way that would be helpful,” Bracey said. “That’s why we need somebody else to pick it up. His original protest is losing relevance to the younger cohort.”

“History just moves so fast now,” Bracey added. “If there’s not somebody giving attention to something, it’s as if it doesn’t exist.”