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Marshall returned to the notion that the Constitution was more than a parchment protection. His was a visceral response. He seemed utterly convinced that the Constitution actually meant what it said, even if that flew in the face of the experience of millions of black southerners. It was a powerful constitutional faith.

The faith existed even after Brown II which, if he thought about it, was a bit of a setback for Thurgood Marshall. Professor PAtterson's book quotes him: "'The more I think about it, I think it's a damned good decision!' The South, he added, has 'got to yield to the Constitution. And yield means yield! Yield means give up!'"4 He was committed to the idea that the law means something durable and robust, even if nobody else is listening.

One of the tragedies of this story and of Brown is the loss of that idea. Linda Brown's comment that perhaps Brown should not have been brought may indicate the loss of constitutional faith. Faith in the impartiality of law, and especially the impartially of the Supreme Court, may have been damaged further by the election of 2000.

It is the notion of the impartiality of law that brings me to my final point, about the question of standards or metrics or norms, and how one evaluates what is racially neutral. Pamela Grundy's wonderful book, Learning to Win: Sports, Education, and Social Change in Twentieth Century North Carolina,5 details the experiences of athletic teams in twentieth century North Carolina. One chapter contrasts the relatively successful desegregation of athletic teams in that state, within a fairly short period, with the jarring and complicated problem of desegregating cheerleading squads. It may seem like an insignificant problem but it is not, because if schools are going to be integrated, extracurricular activities must be integrated, whether they are sports or cheerleading or something else.

The relative success in integrating athletic squads, and this goes back to Roger Wilkins' point, was due to the fact that there was a clear metric of performance. Can you hit a jump shot? Are you the best shooter? Are you the best hitter? Are you the fastest? If you can do it, you're on the team.

But cheerleading raises all kinds of very subjective and thorny questions. How do you select a cheerleading squad? Do you do it on the basis of popularity? Do you do it according to some standard of beauty? Do you do it according to dancing ability? Who judges the moves, and by what criteria? All of this is bound up in very complex cultural contests over beauty, appropriate behavior, sexual mores, social popularity. A point guard or running back has it much easier, in that sense, than an aspirant for the cheerleading squad.