The atmosphere was already electric as I tuned in to watch Claressa Shields defend her crown. Big fight energy. Big stage. Big moment.

Before the punches ever flew, the pre-fight ceremony set a powerful tone. A singer named Passion performed “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” widely known as the Black national anthem, a song written by James Weldon Johnson in 1900 that has long served as a hymn of hope and resilience in Black communities. The crowd received it warmly. It felt intentional. It felt ceremonial.

Then came the announcement that R&B powerhouse Kelly Price would sing “The Star-Spangled Banner.” And if you know Kelly Price, you know that voice carries weight.

She began the national anthem in a traditional, stirring fashion. Strong notes. Controlled power. Television-ready. But then something happened that nobody in the arena, or at home, could have predicted.

Mid-performance, the song shifted.

Without warning, the arrangement transitioned seamlessly into “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” Not a mash-up tease. Not a brief interpolation. She fully pivoted. The backing track followed her flawlessly, which made it clear this was not a mistake. This was rehearsed. This was deliberate.

The result was confusion for some viewers. The national anthem was left incomplete. And the Black national anthem, already performed earlier in the program, was sung again in full. In real time, you could almost feel social media scrambling to process what had just happened.

It was bold. It was theatrical. It was political, whether intended that way or not.

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Adding to the gravity of the moment, the broadcast also honored the late Rev. Jesse Jackson, a towering civil rights leader who marched alongside Dr. Martin Luther King Jr., founded Operation PUSH and the Rainbow Coalition, and twice ran for president in the 1980s. Jackson’s decades-long advocacy for voting rights, economic justice, and global human rights cemented him as one of the most influential Black political figures of the late 20th century. While flags are typically lowered at half-staff by presidential proclamation for certain public officials or national tragedies, tributes to civil rights leaders have historically varied by state and municipality. The pre-fight acknowledgment felt like Detroit making its own statement of respect.

The symbolism layered on top of a championship boxing match starring Claressa Shields, one of the greatest fighters of her generation, made the entire sequence even more charged. Shields has consistently carried herself as more than just an athlete. She represents Flint. She represents resilience. She represents unapologetic excellence.

Kelly Price’s vocal detour was not sloppy. It was not off-key. In fact, it was musically excellent. But excellence does not cancel controversy.

Some will call it revolutionary. Others will call it disrespectful. Cable news panels like Faux will likely debate intent versus protocol. But what cannot be denied is that it was a moment. A live television moment that blurred the lines between tradition, protest, tribute, and artistry.

Sports and music have always been stages for cultural tension and cultural progress. From Muhammad Ali’s defiance to Colin Kaepernick’s protest, the ring and the field have never been isolated from the social climate of the country. What happened before that first punch was thrown will likely be replayed just as much as the fight itself.

Kelly Price did not whisper her statement. She SANG that jawn.

What did you think about the switch? Revolutionary or reckless? Comment below.