I think women athletes who have been successful need to help

Venus Williams, a champion not only of the court but of the cause of equity, once declared: “I think women athletes who have been successful need to help other sports, those sports that are just emerging. That’s what I’ve been thinking about and looking forward to.” In these words, she speaks not only as a competitor, but as a guardian of legacy, one who sees that triumph is not complete until it uplifts others. Her statement echoes the wisdom of the ancients: that true greatness is never for oneself alone, but for the generations that follow.

At the heart of her reflection is the truth that victory carries responsibility. The woman who has conquered her arena must look outward, toward those who still struggle to find recognition. For in the world of sport, not all fields are equal. Some games shine in the light of global attention, while others are like seeds in the shadows, yearning for water and care. Williams calls upon the victorious to become the gardeners of these seeds, so that what was once fragile may one day stand strong.

This teaching is as old as time. In ancient Greece, Olympians crowned with laurel were not honored for their triumph alone, but for the way they brought glory to their city, inspiring the youth to train, to hope, to rise. The victories of a few became the foundation for the progress of many. So too in Rome, the general who triumphed in battle was expected to give back to the people—through games, through gifts, through the strengthening of civic life. To succeed without sharing was considered a hollow crown.

Consider also the legacy of Billie Jean King, who not only dominated the tennis court but also fought to elevate women’s sports as a whole. Her success became the foundation for others, ensuring that the stage grew wider, the light brighter, and the opportunities greater for the women who followed. Venus Williams herself continued that battle, demanding equal pay and recognition, showing that greatness is not only measured by titles won but by barriers broken and doors opened.

Williams’ words also remind us of the fragility of emerging sports. They need champions, not only those who play within them, but those whose voices already command respect. Without such advocates, many young athletes, particularly women, may struggle unseen, their talents lost to indifference. The established must remember their own beginnings, when their sport too was in its infancy, needing defenders who believed in its worth.

The deeper meaning of her reflection is this: true success is communal. It ripples outward. A torch lit in one arena can illuminate many. The woman who stands on the podium today has a duty to extend her hand to the girl who trains in obscurity tomorrow. This is how progress endures—not in isolated triumphs, but in a chain of shared victories that bind generations together.

Therefore, let us take this teaching into our own lives: when you rise, do not rise alone. Seek out those who are just beginning, those whose voices tremble, those whose efforts remain unseen, and lend them your strength. For to help others climb is to build a mountain where once there was only a hill. And when you do so, as Venus Williams reminds us, your success becomes more than personal—it becomes eternal, woven into the fabric of a future where all may shine.