At least we're going through it together
Simone Biles, the most decorated gymnast in history, stepped away from most of her Tokyo 2020 Olympic events not as an act of protest or advocacy, but as an act of survival — and in doing so, she inadvertently gave the world permission to reconsider what courage truly looks like. She did not seek the role of mental health advocate; it found her in the space between a failed flip and a honest reckoning with her own limits. What she offers is not a prescription but a presence — the quiet, powerful example of someone navigating difficulty in public, and inviting others to feel less alone in theirs.
- During Tokyo qualifying rounds, Biles attempted a 2.5 flip and could only complete 1.5 — a dangerous gap that made continuing not just unwise, but physically perilous.
- Her withdrawal ignited a global conversation that moved athlete mental health from whispered struggle to front-page reckoning almost overnight.
- Biles herself resists the advocate label, insisting she was still lost in her own process and had no roadmap to offer anyone else.
- She returned to compete, earning bronze on balance beam and silver in the team event, but the question of Paris 2024 still hangs unanswered.
- Her most enduring contribution may not be any medal, but the simple act of struggling openly — and letting millions feel that their own struggles are legitimate too.
Simone Biles did not set out to become a mental health advocate. She became one anyway, almost by accident, and in doing so shifted something fundamental in how the world thinks about athletes, pressure, and the right to say no.
The most decorated gymnast in history, Biles holds 14 World Championship titles and began training at six years old. By any measure, she had already won. Then came Tokyo. During qualifying rounds, something shifted — she attempted a 2.5 flip and could only manage 1.5, a gap that in gymnastics can mean the difference between landing and catastrophe. She withdrew from most of her events, citing mental health concerns, and the world paused.
The decision rippled outward in ways she had not anticipated. Athletes everywhere began talking. Biles had given permission, simply by stepping back, for others to do the same. But in a recent interview, she was clear: this was not the role she had chosen. "It's not what I really wanted," she said. "I am still going through my own thing — so how am I supposed to teach people?" The honesty in that statement matters. She was not offering a roadmap. She was describing her own navigation, in real time, while still finding her way.
What she understood was that mental health recovery is not one-size-fits-all. She could not prescribe a path for others because she was still walking her own. But she could do it in public, and invite others to do theirs alongside her. She eventually returned to compete, winning bronze on balance beam and silver in the team event. Whether she appears in Paris in 2024 remains an open question. What is already settled is that she has changed the conversation — not by intending to, but simply by being honest about what it costs to be human at the highest level.
Simone Biles did not set out to become a mental health advocate. She became one anyway, almost by accident, and in doing so shifted something fundamental in how the world thinks about athletes and pressure and the right to say no.
Biles is the most decorated gymnast in history. She holds 14 World Championship titles—a record no other American gymnast has matched. She began training at six years old and never stopped climbing. By any measure, she had already won.
Then came Tokyo, in the summer of 2020. During the qualifying rounds, something shifted. Her body was telling her to stop. She attempted a 2.5 flip and could only manage 1.5—a gap that in gymnastics can mean the difference between landing and catastrophe. She understood immediately that she could not continue. The risk was no longer acceptable. So she withdrew from most of her events, citing mental health concerns, and the world paused to process what had just happened.
The decision rippled outward in ways she had not anticipated. Athletes everywhere began talking about their own struggles. The conversation moved from whispers to headlines. Biles had given permission, simply by stepping back, for others to do the same. She became, whether she planned it or not, a symbol of prioritizing yourself over the podium.
But in a recent interview, Biles was clear about something: this was not the role she had chosen. "Speaking out on mental health, I knew that I could have the possibility of becoming an advocate for that," she said. "But it wasn't my goal. It's not what I really wanted. It's like I am still going through my own thing so how am I supposed to teach people, 'Hey, you should do this or this.'" The honesty in that statement matters. She was not offering a roadmap. She was describing her own navigation, in real time, while still lost in it.
What she understood, and what she wanted others to understand, was that mental health recovery is not one-size-fits-all. "Everybody goes through the process differently and there are different methods that work for each individual person," she explained. She could not tell anyone else what to do because she was still figuring it out herself. But she could do something else: she could do it in public, and invite others to do theirs alongside her. "At least we're going through it together and I can teach them something in that."
After stepping back, Biles eventually returned to compete. She won a bronze medal on balance beam and a silver medal in the team event. She was satisfied with those results, though the question now hanging in the air is whether she will compete again at the 2024 Paris Olympics. What matters more, perhaps, is that she has already changed the conversation. She did not intend to be a mental health advocate. But millions of people are now watching how she lives, and that is its own kind of influence.
Citas Notables
It wasn't my goal. It's not what I really wanted. It's like I am still going through my own thing so how am I supposed to teach people?— Simone Biles, on becoming a mental health advocate
I just felt like it would be a bit better to take a back seat, to work on my mindfulness, and I knew the girls would do an absolute great job.— Simone Biles, on her decision to step back from Tokyo events
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
When you withdrew from Tokyo, did you know it would become this moment for mental health in sports?
No. I was just trying to survive the day. I couldn't do the flip safely. That was the only thing I was thinking about.
But you became an advocate anyway. How does that feel?
Honestly, it's strange. I'm still working through my own stuff. I'm not a therapist. I'm just a person who said no when I needed to.
Do you worry about giving people the wrong impression—that your path is the path they should take?
That's exactly why I keep saying everyone's different. I can't tell someone else what to do. I can only say what I did and why.
What do you hope people take from your story, then?
That it's okay to pause. That stepping back isn't failure. And that you don't have to have it all figured out before you speak up.
Are you still going through it?
Yes. And I think that's the most important part to say out loud.