Serena Williams reflects on her life and legacy in new documentary series

In March 2001, Serena Williams, then just 19 years old, was booed mercilessly by the crowd during the final of the Indian Wells Open tournament in California. The boos included racist slurs, and it was without a doubt the scariest thing that has happened to her during her spectacular career.

In “In the Arena: Serena Williams,” an eight-part documentary streaming on ESPN+, the retired star recalls how she was shaped by the experience.

“Having to go through these cruel, nasty, horrible things just because of the color of my skin has opened so many doors for other people,” she said. “I’ve been able to provide a platform for black girls and women to be proud of who they are.”

I welcomed Williams’s newfound ease in speaking so explicitly about race and its ongoing impact on women’s sports. One of the most visible athletes of all time, she has been the subject of countless interviews and biographies throughout her career, but she has not seemed eager to reveal much about her private life.

That has changed in recent years with projects like the 2018 HBO documentary “Being Serena,” about her pregnancy and struggle to return to tennis, and her active Instagram posts. She also served as an executive producer on “King Richard,” the 2021 Oscar-winning biopic of her father, Richard Williams.

But “In the Arena” reveals even more layers of its subject. Directed by Gotham Chopra, it features candid interviews with Serena Williams and her relatives, friends and tennis contemporaries, including her sisters, Venus Williams and Isha Price; fellow tennis legend Roger Federer; and former tennis star and current television commentator Mary Joe Fernández. Serena Williams is also an executive producer.

The series is a sequel to 2021’s “Man in the Arena: Tom Brady,” which was also directed by Chopra and produced by Brady’s 199 Productions. But tennis is a much more solitary affair than a team sport like football. Viewers’ eyes are laser-focused on the players and their bodies, a reality that was initially made more fraught by Williams’ race and class status in the predominantly white world of tennis.

I think about Williams’s multiple identities almost every time I see her: when she was a surprise Olympic torchbearer representing the United States at the opening ceremony in Paris; when I saw her at Arthur Ashe Stadium during the 2018 US Open women’s final, getting booed and losing to Naomi Osaka; and when I returned to the tournament years later and was part of the crowd that gave her standing ovations before her first match and for her doubles final match with Venus Williams. I still think about her impact even in her absence, like when Coco Gauff thanked the Williams sisters after winning the 2023 US Open, a year after Serena Williams retired.

Williams was the greatest tennis player of all time, but she has long transcended the sport she dominated. Her glamorous style, her not-so-subtle swagger, and her competitive (and contentious) moments on the court have enabled a new generation of female athletes to flourish in the full breadth of their humanity, particularly Black women like Simone Biles, Angel Reese, Sha’Carri Richardson, and Gabby Thomas.

“In the Arena” suggests that one of the keys to Williams’ rise to greatness and her ability to sustain it for 20 years was the community that supported her and, in many cases, saved her.

For example, the discussion of Indian Wells, which comes in the sixth episode, reveals the long-term damage that the crowd abuse has inflicted on the entire family. Inspired by Venus Williams’s withdrawal from her semifinal against Serena Williams because of an injury — which led the National Enquirer and others to accuse her father of rigging the tournament to Serena Williams’s advantage — the boos were directed at Venus Williams and Richard Williams in the stands, as well as at Serena Williams on the court. (She still won the final.)

The sisters boycotted the tournament for years, and in one heartbreaking scene, their sister Isha Price asks the crew to stop filming as she breaks down in tears because she feels guilty for not being there to protect her younger siblings. When Serena Williams returned to play in Indian Wells 14 years later, her journey to forgiveness was inspired by meeting Nelson Mandela and reading his memoirs.

In episode 3, Williams reveals the layers of grief she suffered after her sister Yetunde Price was murdered in 2003. Williams initially wanted to stop playing tennis and had to overcome her depression.

The most revealing episode is the second, which focuses on the years when Venus and Serena Williams competed against each other for Grand Slam titles. It’s akin to hearing from Michael Jordan’s greatest rivals, like Reggie Miller and Isiah Thomas, in “The Last Dance,” with the added dimension that the sisters rooted for each other off the court as hard as they fought against each other on it.

In separate interviews, Venus and Serena Williams analyze each other’s matches, discuss how playing against each other has influenced their self-esteem and reveal the strategies they used. (Serena Williams couldn’t look at her sister until the match was over.) It’s a rare glimpse into their simultaneous closeness and competitiveness.

There is little mention of other players, such as Jennifer Capriati, Martina Hingis or Maria Sharapova, who at different times challenged Serena Williams’ reign. But watching her rise through her own eyes, it becomes clear that, Venus Williams aside, she believed her biggest obstacles were poor line judge decisions, racist caricatures in the media and, like Jordan before her, the inevitability of time itself. The final episode focuses on her decision to retire and have another child.

Watching tennis without seeing Williams on the court is still difficult for me. I haven’t been back to Flushing Meadows because I miss her unique serve, versatile shot selection, sharp fashion sense and intellectual fortitude.

And yet, so soon after the Olympics, as another U.S. Open begins, and with the WNBA playoffs looming, her influence is ever apparent. “Greatest of All Time” may be too small a title.