Daughter of Kareem Abdul-Jabbar Creates Series Based on L.A. Lakers

Gold Rush and the meaning of success

Habiba Alcindor says: I’ve published material as a quasi journalist, but my heart lives in drama.

With the dramatic series, Gold Rush, I hope to make people think about the meaning of success as it has been packaged and sold in America.

Professional sports embodies the most ephemeral elements of success: youth, health and physical strength.

Add lavish amounts of cash and instant name recognition to complete the picture everyone sees and wants, but that’s only a two-dimensional image.

And that’s never the end of the story. Because my father is Kareem Abdul-Jabbar, I’ve lived part of one of those stories, so I’m pushing to share it with the public.

Gold Rush chronicles the rise of Kendrick Chandler, son of the legendary center Sharif Chandler.

The public and media expect him to inherit his father’s mantle when he’s drafted to the Los Angeles Gold Rush, his father’s team.

But while Sharif may have imparted some of his athletic DNA to Kendrick at the moment of conception, he has not contributed much else to Kendrick’s life and it’s mainly fate that has placed Kendrick in the light on the playing field with his father.

This scenario sets up a sort of reckoning between where Black men want to go and where they’ve been, historically.

Men’s sports marginalizes women

In true post-modern fashion, my struggle to tell my story is an integral part of the story itself.

Men’s sports ipso facto marginalizes women, but Black women occupy negative space in this world, neither subjects nor objects.

Accordingly, a subplot of this story involves Kendrick’s sister LaTisha who, while her brother negotiates this fast, dazzling new life, tenaciously researches and re-examines the death of woman who was married to her father’s close friend, another famous athlete.

LaTisha cares about the past and the powerless and the dark side of things, surfacing all that.

Women Mentors

A lot of women have helped and mentored me during this ongoing journey to produce Gold Rush in ways that men would not.

Actually, the fact that I have the audacity to clear my throat and announce that I have something to say seems to threaten the men I’ve approached with this project in subtle but palpable ways.

The general reaction is “Oh, wait— you exist?” And then, since I don’t intend to provide an account of how proud I was when my dad scored his 38,387th point, or sing his praises as a parent, then what exactly am I trying to say?

But that’s always a rhetorical question, they’re already moving out of earshot, by then.

The many women to whom I owe much gratitude for their advice and support to me and do appreciate the value of my voice.

It’s because of women that my story will be told.