• Richemont, the conglomerate behind brands like Cartier, is outperforming its competition.
• Its focus on hard luxury, like jewelry and watches, has helped it through a rough economic climate.
• Plus, over-indexing in China and a clear direction for leadership have helped the company shine.

LVMH is the biggest luxury conglomerate in the world. As the owner of brands like Louis Vuitton, Moët & Chandon, and Bulgari, the French company has become synonymous with luxury — and made a lot of money doing it, as demonstrated by CEO Bernard Arnault's position as the third-richest man in the world.

But there's another corporation beating LVMH at its own game, and you probably haven't even heard of it: Richemont.

Switzerland-based Richemont, behind brands like Cartier, Van Cleef & Arpels, and Piaget, is having a moment.

Its stock has climbed more than 20% since the start of the year, outperforming LVMH as well as Kering, which sells brands like Gucci and Saint Laurent. It's a boon for investors seeking reassurance that European luxury stocks aren't over — especially in China.

"Richemont has provided reassurance to investors on several points. Cartier and Van Cleef are continuing to show very strong momentum and notable growth," Chiara Battistini, JPMorgan's head of European luxury and sporting goods research, told Business Insider over email.

One major benefit in this uncertain economic climate: Richemont is skewed to hard luxury, including the iconic designs of Cartier, which has been creating jewelry for high-flying members of society for more than 150 years, as well as Van Cleef.

"In tough times, because we are in tough times right now in luxury, there is a tendency to buy less, buy better," Erwan Rambourg, the global cohead of consumer and retail research at HSBC, told BI. "At the end of the day, if you have to buy one piece of jewelry from one jeweler, it's going to be Cartier."

In the first quarter of this year, Richemont's largest brands all saw positive year-over-year growth on Google Trends and an increase in website visits, according to a JPMorgan report from May. Meantime, brands like Louis Vuitton and Gucci saw declines in both areas.

Even LVMH's Arnault has noticed: "In the competition, there's a very good group, that is the Richemont Group," he said in January, going on to compliment the group's chairman, fellow billionaire Johann Rupert. "Rupert, we consider as an outstanding leader. And I don't, in the slightest, wish to upset his strategy."

All that glitters is gold

Unlike luxury conglomerates LVMH and Kering, Richemont focuses disproportionately on hard luxury — literally, the stuff made from hard materials like gold, gemstones, and diamonds. In the 2024 fiscal year, jewelry made up 69% of its revenue and watches 18%.

It's a good time to be in that business. During difficult macroeconomic times or when people are squeezed, they are more likely to splurge on something they know will hold value, like metals and gems, than on something less durable and more trend-driven, like clothing or handbags (with Hermès being a notable exception).

"At times of economic crisis — I mean, not that everyone runs out and buys a Cartier watch or a Van Cleef & Arpels necklace — but they are a safer bet," Fflur Roberts, the head of global luxury goods at Euromonitor, told BI.

Part of the reason is that a classic Cartier piece — like the rectangular Tank watch launched in 1919 or the three-banded Trinity ring, which debuted five years later — is unlikely to go out of style. The Love collection, a Cartier classic featuring a screw motif, has been around for five decades and still makes up more than 20% of the company's revenue, HSBC's Rambourg said.

"It doesn't have the fashion risk to the same extent as, for instance, apparel and even leather goods," Jelena Sokolova, a senior equity analyst for Morningstar, told BI of the fine jewelry business. "All of this favors the most established brands: Cartier and Van Cleef."

Jewelry is also a good investment. A 2022 study by Credit Suisse and Deloitte called fine jewelry and watches "safe havens" in "uncertain times," with steady single-digit returns and low volatility.

"The world might come to an end, and your piece of jewelry might still be worth something," Rambourg said.

And when it comes to buying bling as an investment, no one wants to roll the dice on something new.

"When people are concerned about putting their money in other, more traditional financial assets, then jewelry has become an area where people are investing," Euromonitor's Roberts said. "Spending a bit more and getting a really true heritage luxury brand like Cartier" is safer, she added.

China cha-ching

Last month, rumors swirled that Van Cleef planned to raise its prices in China — and chaos ensued. Local news outlets reported lines forming at the country's 30-plus stores as customers rushed to buy Alhambra bracelets, which cost anywhere from $1,420 for a single clover on a yellow gold chain to $61,500 for a five-clover diamond design.

The frenzy shows just how devoted Chinese consumers are to the now-iconic clover pieces, which can be seen on the wrists and necks of the country's influencers and street-style inspirations.

The popularity is reflected in the data. Driven by Richemont's top brands, Cartier and Van Cleef, sales gained 7% in the country, including Hong Kong and Macau, in Richemont's 2024 fiscal year.

Meanwhile, some luxury conglomerates, like Gucci's parent company Kering, have struggled in that market. While Richemont's results in the country have been touch-and-go depending on the quarter, the company is still beating out the competition.

"They are over-indexed in China compared to their peers," Sokolova said.

Part of that is related to the increasing popularity of jewelry in the country. In 2023, jewelry and watches overtook handbags as the top-spending category in China, according to a McKinsey report. By 2027, its share of discretionary spending is expected to gain another four percentage points.

On top of that, the philosophy of buying a tried and true brand — and specifically recognizable items from one of these brands — is even stronger in China. Branded jewelry is expected to increase from 15% of the market in 2019 to 25% to 30% in 2025, according to a 2021 McKinsey report. That growth is driven by customers in Asia.

From the aforementioned Alhambra line, which was called out on Richemont's earnings call, or Cartier's Love collection, no one does branded like Richemont.

"If you're in a bar or restaurant, you're sitting at a distance, you can recognize the Labra pendant from Van Cleef. You can recognize the Love ring or the Love bracelet or the Trinity," Rambourg said. "It's the equivalent of putting a big fat logo on a bag."

Passing down the crown jewels

There's another piece of hardware that Richemont has handled well: its scepter.

In May, the company announced a new CEO, Nicolas Bos, a Cartier veteran who transformed Van Cleef from an unprofitable brand to Richemont's second-biggest cash driver.

It was welcome news in an industry in which many companies remain family-run — a model accompanied by uncertainty. LVMH and Prada have both been caught up in media speculation around who will take over when their patriarch and matriarch, respectively, step aside.

While chairman Rupert is still staying on — the controlling shareholder, he founded the company by spinning the international brands off of his father's South African conglomerate in 1988 — Bos' appointment provides some relief for investors. The company's announcement caused shares to tick up 6%.

"The No. 1 question I've had for the past two years is who's going to replace Rupert? What's the post-Rupert world?" Rambourg said. "They just bought themselves a lot of time by nominating a 51-year-old to run the group."

The appointment also included a restructuring of the company, naming one CEO for the entire conglomerate, which "provided better clarity and more straightforward structure on corporate governance," JPMorgan's Battistini said.

That said, Bos does have his work cut out for him, particularly regarding the YNAP, the group's online fashion retailer that owns sites like Net-A-Porter. It's a lossmaker for a company, and a deal to offload it fell apart in December. Last week, it was reported that the platform would pull out of China amid dwindling sales.

But as they say, heavy is the head that wears that crown — but perhaps not the arm that wears the Cartier Love bracelet.

• I had three other Lauren's in my class, and I secretly wanted to be the only one. 
• My chilean father went by George, as a way to assimilate to his life in the US. 
• I wanted to have a name in Spanish and English, like he did. 

My first day of 5th grade continues to be memorable decades later. When the teacher did roll call in a class of 30 students, three of us had the name Lauren. I was surprised. I secretly wished I was the only one.

I've always loved my name, and up until age 10, I had no idea Lauren was popular. Over the years, I'd become used to parents in the early 80s naming their kids just like me.

My Chilean father, Jorge, moved to the United States when he was 28 years old. Everyone called him George. His official documents, such as his passport and driver's license, had his birth name — Jorge. Like most immigrants, he did his best to assimilate. Adopting an English version of his name was one way to minimize calling attention to himself and help him blend into the melting pot of the United States. He made it easier for his colleagues and clients to say his name.

As a kid, I thought it was cool that he had two names — one in Spanish and one in English. I wanted to have two names, too, like him, even though my dad didn't teach me Spanish.

My name doesn't exist in Spanish

When I'd visit my abuelita a couple of times a year, who didn't speak much English — she learned it when she was 50 years old, I'd always ask her, "How would you say my name in Spanish?" Her reply was always the same — "Your name doesn't exist in Spanish." I felt let down, bummed.

I didn't understand it at the time, but I was seeking and wanting to be a part of something bigger — intangible, of course. I wanted something that seemed within reach and yet so far away. I understand now, as an adult, that I wanted to be a part of my dad's culture and connect with him and his family, including my abuelita. I wanted to feel like I belonged.

Questioning whether my name existed in Spanish was my way of creating a connection with my abuelita despite language differences. After all, neither one of us spoke the other's native tongue. I may not have been successful or received the answer I was hoping for, but now I understand my question had a deeper meaning.

I started saying my name differently when speaking in Spanish

In my late 20s, I moved to Spain to teach English as a language assistant in a high school. My real goal was to learn Spanish and speak fluently. I quickly learned that when I said my name, whether it was to make a reservation at a restaurant or deal with in-person bureaucratic paperwork, most Spaniards would ask me to repeat my name numerous times. Over time, I stopped saying my name as if I were in the United States (Lor-in). Instead, I deferred to pronouncing my name as it sounds in Spanish (Lao-wren) to save myself time and frustration from reiterating it too many times.

Similar to what I imagine my dad must have experienced living in the United States, I learned it's easier to adapt. Not only is it more convenient for the other person, but it also saves me the hassle of repeating myself and being reminded constantly that I'm foreign.

It turns out my abuelita wasn't exactly right. Lauren may not be a Spanish name or have a direct translation, yet it's possible to pronounce it in Spanish. My name is adaptable in both languages. I appreciate that my name can have two pronunciations, even if it's a reminder that I'm from somewhere else. And as a daughter of a Chilean immigrant, it may be ironic that I was always seeking to blend in and belong.

• In the "Art and Science of Connection," author Kasley Killam, MPH outlined 4 social styles.
• Beyond being an introvert or extrovert, you're a butterfly, wallflower, firefly, or evergreen.
• Killam described each style and why it's important to get out of your connection comfort zone.

When it comes to relationships, there are more communication styles and personality differences than just "introvert" or "extrovert."

"I noticed that introversion and extroversion don't really capture the nuance of how we approach socializing, solitude, and connection in our lives," Kasley Killam, MPH and author of "The Art and Science of Connection" (out on June 18) told Business Insider. From both her research and experiences talking to communities all over the world, she came up with four social styles that people generally fall under: butterfly, wallflower, firefly, and evergreen.

She said that besides only looking at the quantity of connection a person craves, these styles also address the "quality of connection that people prefer."

Killam shared what each style says about relationships — and why it's still good to push yourself out of your comfort zone, no matter where you fall.

Butterfly, happy with all kinds of talk

A nod to "social butterfly," the butterfly personality style describes "someone who likes a really high amount of interaction but is comfortable and happy with more casual connection," Killam said.

It doesn't mean that they only like small talk — butterflies are excited to get deep, too, she said. They're just glad to be engaged in all types of conversations, and often.

Wallflower, content with some distance

As the name suggests, a wallflower is "a bit more shy but really comfortable and happy with less frequent interaction," Killam said. They can also be fine with more casual connections, she said.

In the book, she also mentioned that wallflowers often prefer staying out of the limelight, but that doesn't mean they enjoy feeling like floater friends. Like anyone else, they "have the inner desire and ability to love and be loved," she said.

Firefly, deep conversations with recharge time

Fireflies burn bright before disappearing into the night, describing someone who loves deeper interactions but also craves solitude.

Killam identifies as a firefly herself. "I love deep conversations with friends and family," she said, whether one-on-one or in small groups. But she also requires time to recharge alone.

Evergreen, a pro at opening up

Evergreen plants stay lush all year long, not just seasonally. Similarly, an evergreen is "someone who likes a lot of frequent interaction, and also deeper," Killam said.

While they might look like butterflies at first glance, Killam said the kinds of conversations they have speak to their nature. Taylor, a woman she mentioned in the book, "really only enjoys and feels fulfilled by socializing with people who she has deep connections to," such as close friends and family. Evergreens are the people who phone a best friend or parent every day.

Your social type should be flexible

Killam said there's no one perfect style, and that each has pros and cons. That means "there's value in stretching beyond what might be comfortable to explore what ultimately is best for each of us," she said.

For instance, she said more introverted styles like wallflowers and fireflies benefit from pushing themselves to socialize more. As a firefly, "the times in my life when I felt most meaningfully connected are times when I socialized more than I would typically choose," Killam said.

Meanwhile, if you're an extroverted style like an evergreen or butterfly, you should try to "cultivate a connection with yourself and to prioritize some alone time as well," Killam said. That way, you can "go deep in the relationships that are most important."

• A cardiologist said the biggest heart health mistake is waiting too long to make healthy changes.
• Factors like diet and exercise play a big role in your risk of heart disease, heart attack, and stroke.
• A simple way to make your diet more heart-healthy is to switch up your drinks first. 

If you want to live a long life, the best time to pay attention to your heart health is right now, according to a doctor.

The biggest mistake people make about heart health is waiting until it's too late to take action, said Dr. Gregory Katz, a cardiologist at NYU Langone.

"People think it's something that happens suddenly. Sometimes they look up and are like, 'How the hell did I have a heart attack or stroke?' The seeds are planted very early on," Katz told Business Insider.

Your habits today, such as eating well and exercising, can make a big difference in protecting your heart and preventing heart disease, heart attack, and stroke later in life, he said.

While medication can help, patients sometimes put off taking drugs that could help them manage their risk in favor of trying to change their habits first.

"Taking medication is not a moral failing. That's an important message," Katz said.

The trick is focusing on changes you can actually stick to, according to Katz.

"People are not honest with themselves about what lifestyle changes they're actually going to make," he said. "A large percentage of patients tell themselves they'll make changes, and suddenly five years later, their cholesterol is still high."

To make heart-healthy habits stick, focus on making small, sustainable changes — one of the simplest is reducing your sugar intake from drinks, Katz said.

Cutting liquid calories can be transformative

High cholesterol and other heart health risks are linked to diets high in processed food, added sugar, red meat, and saturated fat, which are common for the average American.

In contrast, diets for better heart health involve eating lots of veggies, whole grains, legumes, and unsaturated fats like olive oil, which help lower your cholesterol.

But it can be tough to transform your diet overnight, and making too many changes at once can backfire

One of the simplest ways to make your diet more heart-healthy is to cut back on sweetened drinks or boozy beverages, according to Katz.

"Drinking calories and drinking alcohol are the biggest modifiable risk factors. The number of people I see drinking 500 calories a day blows my mind," he said. "Just because it's simple doesn't make it easy."

Sodas, juices, sugary coffees, and cocktails can all contribute to health risks like heart disease, type 2 diabetes, and cancer, evidence suggests.

A dietitian previously told BI a good strategy to cut back on sweet drinks is to replace them with alternatives like:

• seltzer with a splash of fruit juice
• unsweetened tea
• water flavored with citrus or herbs like mint

Swapping out liquid calories is a good first step to improving key factors for better heart health (and a longer life), such as healthy blood pressure and cholesterol levels and stable blood sugar.

• Mason Kuhr, 25, launched an online business selling wellness products in 2021 after college.
• His business brought in $3.8 million in sales in 12 months, partly due to advertising on TikTok. 
• Kuhr predicts his sales could drop 50% if TikTok is banned in the US. He's preparing for the worst.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with Mason Kuhr, a 25-year-old business owner living in the US, about the potential TikTok ban. The following has been edited for length and clarity.

I'm skeptical about a TikTok ban in the US. But if it were to happen, I estimate that my $3.8 million business would be cut by half. So, I choose to be prepared rather than caught off guard.

I launched my business, The Stampede Network, in 2021. I was 22, fresh out of college, and at the end of my athletics career. I moved into my parent's basement without knowing what I wanted to do, but I knew it wasn't working 9-to-5.

I lived with my parents with no income of my own. I had some savings. I used it all to experiment with dropshipping, but nothing took off.

My weight-loss journey was the beginning of my business

I started struggling with weight issues. After completing a self-transformation program and getting back in shape, I signed up for TikTok in March 2021 and started posting about my weight-loss journey.

Four months later, my TikTok account had 10,000 followers; by the end of 2021, I had 74,000 followers.

I unsuccessfully tried to monetize my following by selling ebooks, fitness programs, and merchandise.

Flipping through different wellness forums searching for new products to sell, I stumbled upon a discussion about a company making bee bread pastilles made of pollen. The company offered fulfillment services for third-party sellers, so I ordered a sample.

Bee bread is a natural superfood, and I loved the product. I added them to my Shopify store, connected with the manufacturer's order fulfillment service, and made a 60-second TikTok video about my new product. In a matter of minutes, people went crazy about it.

By the end of the day, the video had generated over 1.2 million views. And I had made over $25,000 in sales.

I've relied on the same sales tactic from day one

The pastilles sold well, but I realized one product wouldn't be enough for my business to grow. I've continually expanded my offering, introducing new wellness products to boost sales and brand recognition. I switched from third-party fulfillment services to ordering products in bulk and handling order fulfillment in-house. In the last 12 months, we made $3.8 million in sales.

I regularly create and post content on my TikTok promoting my product. I experiment with messages, hooks, and angles.

I hire other TikTokers using Creators Corner to replicate my best-performing videos. These creators produce their videos, sticking to my script but adding a personal touch.

Later, I gather all the creators' stats to see which posts have generated the most traction. This data shows me which pain points and messages resonate most with the audience.

Finally, I produce a new video that embodies all the best-performing elements and scale it up with targeted ad spending to maximize sales. I can spend as much as $150,000 a month on TikTok ads.

Last year, I made $3.8 million in sales, with a third from TikTok

My company's revenue is evenly split between TikTok Shop, Amazon, and Shopify store sales. If TikTok were taken down, I'd lose one-third of my sales overnight.

However, many customers discover my products on TikTok and then purchase them on Amazon or Shopify. So, TikTok's impact on my business is greater than the direct sales it generates. In total, my revenue might drop by up to 50%.

The Stampede Network would be one of many businesses in the US that would suffer if TikTok was banned.

I understand why US officials are suspicious of TikTok. If the Chinese government owns and controls the platform, I see how it risks national security. Conversely, TikTok brings a lot of money into the American economy, so the government is cautious about hasty decisions regarding its ban.

I feel that TikTok doesn't believe the ban will happen. They've made enormous investments to launch their shop feature in the US, including the Fulfilled by TikTok services and fulfillment centers nationwide. I'm skeptical the ban will ever go through.

I have an action plan in place if TikTok gets taken down

In such a case, YouTube would become my business' primary social media platform. I'm getting familiar with the platform since its audience differs from TikTok's.

For example, TikTok users are highly spontaneous buyers. Whereas YouTube users make more informed buying decisions. I'm learning how to talk to a YouTube audience to succeed on this platform.

If you're freaking out about the TikTok ban, I'd suggest you choose a back-up platform and start to make yourself familiar with its users. Experiment with content and ads to learn what works and what doesn't.

I also suggest growing your email list. I regularly remind my TikTok followers to subscribe, allowing us to stay in touch, whatever happens. Email is a powerful tool for both community building and generating sales.

And while TikTok is still here, I'm just going to milk it as much as possible — I'm planning to spend on ads like there is no tomorrow. Because there might not be.

• A Texas woman is seeking over $1 million in damages after her husband died at a Mexican resort.
• The wrongful-death lawsuit claims that he died after being electrocuted in a jacuzzi and drowned.
• The lawsuit accuses three companies linked to the resort of negligence.

A Texas woman is seeking over $1 million in damages, saying she watched her husband get electrocuted and then drown while in a hot tub during a family vacation in Mexico.

In a wrongful-death lawsuit filed in El Paso County District Court in Texas, first published by Inside Edition, Lizzette Zambrano accused three companies associated with the Sonoran Sea Resort of negligence.

It follows the death of her husband, Jorge Guillen, on June 11, 2024, while they were on holiday at the resort in Sonora, northern Mexico.

According to the lawsuit, Guillen stepped into the hot tub and was immediately "exposed to an electrical current in the water," causing him to keel over and become submerged.

The lawsuit said that Zambrano tried to grab her husband from the water but she was also electrocuted and fell into the jacuzzi.

According to the lawsuit, another guest managed to pull Zambrano out, but attempts to get Guillen, using a shepherd's cross and other items, were unsuccessful.

"The metal from the objects carried the electrical current and began shocking the rescuers," the lawsuit said.

Zambrano claims in the lawsuit that resort staff did not try to engage the emergency shutoff for the jacuzzi or try to rescue her or her husband.

Guillen died of drowning, the lawsuit said, while Zambrano was hospitalized but survived the incident.

According to the lawsuit, the defendants showed negligence by not providing warnings about faulty jacuzzi wiring, and breached their duty of care by failing to keep the resort reasonably safe.

Casago, the vacation rental company that manages the resort, did not immediately respond to Business Insider's request for comment.

Guillen is described in the lawsuit as "an industrious, affectionate, loving, compassionate, energetic, cooperative, patient, and attentive father."

The couple's family has raised more than $55,000 on a GoFundMe campaign, which says it is fundraising to bring Guillen's body home and to cover Zambrano's medical expenses.

At the time of writing, the Sonoran Sea Resort's website includes a note indicating that the swimming pools and jacuzzis are temporarily closed.

• August Miller was told by his doctor that he was morbidly obese.
• It was a wake-up call for the dad who'd already been diagnosed with pre-diabetes.
• Miller lost 163 pounds on the Weight Watchers plan and said he is glad to be alive.

This as-told-to essay is based on a conversation with August Miller. It has been edited for length and clarity.

I'm 6ft 2 tall and maintained a healthy weight growing up. I was pretty athletic and served in the military after high school.

Then, in my early 20s, I started getting heavier. My wife, Teresa, got pregnant with our daughter, Sarah, now 33, and I did the classic thing of gaining sympathy weight.

I became your typical fast foodie. I had a problem with portions, and it didn't help that I worked as a DJ. I'd finish work at 2 a.m. and stop at burger joints on the way home.

I was scared that I'd break a chair because of my size

It was the worst thing because I'd eat so much before bed. I also drank a lot of soda — at least two cans of Coke a day. Then, at weekends, I'd get through those 2-liter bottles in no time at all.

I did zero exercise. At that age, I didn't think about my health and longevity. You think you're unbeatable and going to live forever.

Still, I was uncomfortable in my own skin. I dreaded visiting a restaurant with booths because I couldn't fit in. I'd ask for a chair to be placed at the end of the table.

Social situations were difficult for me at the time. I'd look at the seating beforehand if I went to a wedding. I was always afraid I would break the chair.

Then, in December 2017, I had what I can only describe as a "bad doctor's visit." I hadn't seen a doctor in a long while because, like many guys, I kept putting it off.

I stepped on the scale, and it registered 434 pounds. I was shocked. As far as I knew, I hadn't developed any medical conditions. But I was wrong. I was diagnosed with pre-diabetes.

Teresa had expressed concern about my weight in the past — but always in a loving way. But it's a wake-up call when a doctor says your BMI is off the charts and you're morbidly obese.

I knew that I wanted to stay alive for my wife and daughter. I didn't want to leave them without a husband or dad.

I could choose the food that I liked — as long as I counted the points

Teresa had previously succeeded with Weight Watchers, so I agreed to attend a meeting in January 2018. The meeting was predominantly women, and I felt a bit out of place, but it was nothing to put me off.

They explained the plan, where certain foods have a certain number of points. You were held accountable. I'm now an engineer and like to work with figures and charts. I also downloaded the app, which made it so much easier to keep track of my progress.

It wasn't restricting and I could pick the foods that I liked. I just had to know their point value and the best portions. I used a kitchen scale and finally paid attention to what I put down my throat.

Teresa and I shopped together and planned our menus for the whole week. I'd have oatmeal almost every morning and some fruit with my coffee.

For lunch and dinner, I'd have a lean protein such as chicken or pork loin with a salad or vegetable and a serving of brown rice. I'm Mexican American and don't like anything bland. I used marinades and hot sauces.

As for exercise, I started incorporating movement into my day. I began with walking and then riding a bike. Then, I got into spin classes. Now, I'm an avid Peloton fan. I ride five to six days a week. I also take our two dogs on long walks.

My family has supported me all the way

The weight has come off slowly and surely. It's usual to lose more initially, then ebbs and flows. I now weigh 271 pounds and intend to lose another 20 to 25 pounds to reach my goal. I'm no longer pre-diabetic. I happily sit in a booth at a diner.

Meanwhile, Teresa has been my biggest cheerleader. Sarah said she is very proud of her dad. They're relieved to know that I'm here for them.

Do you have an interesting story about weight loss that you'd like to share with Business Insider? Please send details to jridley@businessinsider.com.

Caitlin Clark, a 22-year-old Iowa graduate, is having an unusual start to professional life.

Her star rose fast in college. She became the leading basketball scorer in NCAA history — for men and women — and smashed all kinds of other records, drawing legions of new fans and also historic partnership deals. Since being drafted into the WNBA in April as the No. 1 overall pick, Clark is having an impressive, albeit inconsistent, rookie campaign. She has struggled at times with the increased physicality at this level, which is extremely normal.

But nothing that Clark does — or that is done to Clark — is treated as normal.

On Sunday, Clark was flagrant-fouled by the Chicago Sky's Angel Reese in the third quarter, and it made headline news on CNN, Fox News, ESPN, Bleacher Report, and even Deadline, the Hollywood news site.

That was just the latest bulletin in a months-long news cycle trailing everything Clark does. ESPN's Stephen A. Smith said WNBA players should go easier on Clark in games if they want to keep up record viewership: "Protect the golden goose." When Clark was not picked for the Olympic team in June — likely because of Team USA's depth at the guard position and Clark's lack of international experience — Republican governor Nikki Haley tweeted in outrage: "I think the Olympic selection committee should be asked do we want the best team to represent our country or not?" After Clark was hard-fouled in a recent game, a GOP congressman from Indiana wrote an open letter to WNBA commissioner Cathy Engelbert, asking her to do something about "excessive" physical play. He said Clark's "exceptionalism" was being met with "resentment and repeated attacks from fellow players."

All this attention positions Clark as the de facto face of the WNBA, which is predominantly Black with a strong and vocal LGBTQ population. Clark, herself, largely stays out of it. She doesn't comment on the uproar, except to say she's focused on playing basketball. And yet, her name has become a kerosene canister to inflame a thinly-veiled debate about race, gender, and representation in America.

These days, watching Caitlin Clark play basketball has become a Rorschach test for a deeply divided country.

How Caitlin Clark become the center of a culture war

Being a female athlete is inherently an act of political defiance. In the US, it took a 1972 law about gender equality in education, Title IX, to inadvertently drag public institutions kicking and screaming into providing resources for women's sport, and many remain noncompliant today. Because of this, activism and women's sports often go hand-in-hand, with champions fighting not just for medals, but for equal pay, racial and LGBTQ equality, and maternal rights. Four years ago, WNBA players actually helped flip a Senate seat in Georgia.

In recent years, we've seen some outspoken female athletes used as props to push political agendas, most notably Megan Rapinoe, the women's soccer player who became a target for her outspoken hatred of Donald Trump, and Brittney Griner, the WNBA player who was wrongfully imprisoned in Russia for most of 2022.

Clark is different. She, herself, does not talk politics. She shoots threes and dishes dimes. She attends her contractual media interviews, and fields offers from the world's biggest shoe brands who have been trying to partner with her since she was at school.

But it's getting tougher for Clark (and the rest of the WNBA) to focus on work alone.

Fouls that wouldn't even be a footnote in NBA coverage — fouls that other women across the WNBA commit and take every game — are suddenly talking points. Male sports commentators who have never given the WNBA airtime are dedicating multiple segments to Clark's Black opponents, calling them jealous bullies who are out to hurt her. Matt Leinart, a former football player-turned-media personality, said on X that the WNBA should suspend Reese for an unintentional foul because it was "bad for the game." ESPN's Pat McAfee, a football pundit, compared Clark to Eminem in an inflammatory rant, saying that people don't want to give her credit because she's white.

Last week, security had to intervene when Chennedy Carter, a Chicago Sky player, was confronted by a man outside a hotel in Washington, DC. The man was demanding to know if Carter had reached out to Clark after hard-fouling her in a recent game — a play that, while excessive, was overdramatized by a GOP congressman to issue a formal complaint to the WNBA. Fellow WNBA players started making statements, calling for the firestorm to stop. Many Black players, including Clark's own teammates, spoke up about experiencing excessive racist abuse on social media in recent weeks.

When asked about her name being used "as a weapon in the culture wars dividing the country," Clark initially side-stepped the question. "I don't see it. That's not where my focus is," she said. "My focus is here and on basketball. That's where it needs to be, that's where it has been, and I'm just trying to get better on a daily basis."

Some WNBA fans and players took issue with that response. "Silence is a luxury," Connecticut Sun forward Dijonai Carrington wrote on X. Carrington vocalized a brewing frustration about one (white, straight) rookie being awarded more mainstream credit, plaudits, and sympathy than we've ever really seen in the WNBA's existence.

Black women built, sustained, at times even saved the WNBA during its first 28 years. Their stories often go untold: a study found that in 2020, four of the five most talked about WNBA players in the media were white, despite 80% of the postseason awards being won by Black players.

And their compensation falls short, too. Media fanfare propelled Clark into a historic $28 million deal with Nike, which reportedly came with a signature shoe — a huge moment for women's basketball, but one that stoked controversy because the only other two WNBA players with signature shoes, Sabrina Ionescu and Breanna Stewart, are also white. (Two weeks later, Nike said A'ja Wilson, a Black two-time MVP who has been with Nike since she was the top draft pick in 2018, will have a signature shoe in 2025.)

The hope that this new era of WNBA fandom could be everything for everyone is turning into exasperation.

This all says more about commentators than it does about Clark

The chaotic coverage of Clark doesn't tell us much about her or the league. It does underscore that the sports media ecosystem is wholly unprepared for the rise of women's basketball.

Even before Clark, the price of the WNBA's media rights deal was expected to double in 2025, bringing a game-changing influx of cash to the table — money that can turn salaries from livable to luxurious, and investments into profit.

But this moment, which has been building for decades, is being undercut by commentators and brands who are fixated on Clark. While there's no doubt her exceptional skill is a big reason why ratings nearly tripled during the first month of the season, it doesn't do Clark or the WNBA any favors to paint her as a precious legend in a league of her own who needs to be protected.

All these projections — from Clark's supporters and detractors — infantilize every player on the court. She is strong, and played the best game of her WNBA career so far on Sunday. She's working hard to diversify her game, to adjust to the next level, on and off the court. In one of her most recent interviews, Clark got more direct than ever. "Everybody in our world deserves the same amount of respect," Clark told James Boyd of The Athletic. "The women in our league deserve the same amount of respect, so people should not be using my name to push those agendas."

She's growing. It's time for the rest of us to do the same.

• Many voters aren't happy about having to choose between Biden and Trump again.
• Here's the truth: several credible Republicans ran against Trump, and he beat them all.
• But Democrats didn't get a real choice. No credible candidates challenged Biden in the primary.

You've probably heard friends or family say it.

Perhaps you've even uttered some version of it yourself: "I can't believe we're stuck with Donald Trump and Joe Biden again."

If you feel this way, you've got quite a bit of company. An April survey from the Pew Research Center found that 49% of voters would replace both candidates if that were possible.

This scenario might tempt some to rail against the so-called "duopoly" of politics or bemoan the fact that neither the Republican Party nor the Democratic Party are able to field more popular candidates.

But it's important to understand that Biden and Trump are set to be their party's nominees for quite different reasons.

Republican voters had a lot of choices. They resoundingly chose Trump.

It might be easy to forget at this point, but Trump had lots of opponents.

Over a dozen people challenged Trump for the 2024 GOP presidential nomination, including one senator, one governor, three former governors, a former member of his cabinet, and his own vice president.

Trump handily beat all of them, winning a majority of the vote in all but two places: Vermont and Washington, DC.

It's not like they didn't raise enough money, bring enough experience, or were failed to effectively prosecute the case against Trump. Nikki Haley, the candidate who lasted the longest of all of the contenders, did all of those things.

It's just that GOP voters — who make up roughly a third of the electorate — overwhelmingly chose Trump, and the highest levels of the party once again fell in line behind him.

Polls showed Democrats open to alternatives. They never got a credible one.

On the other hand, Democrats ended up being stuck with Biden, despite plenty of indication that there was room for an alternative.

In July 2022, polling showed that nearly two-thirds of Democrats did not want Biden to run for a second term. In February of this year, a New York Times/Siena College poll found that 45% of Democrats said that Biden should not be the nominee, versus 46% who said he should.

That same poll found that just 23% of Democrats were enthusiastic about his candidacy. Polling has also shown that most Democrats believe he's too old to serve.

Sensing the possibility of an opening, just one elected Democrat stepped forward to challenge Biden: Rep. Dean Phillips of Minnesota.

But the Minnesota congressman's campaign failed to catch on. He didn't have the gravitas of a governor of a senator, made occasional gaffes on the trail, and most crucially, was marginalized by the top echelons of the party.

In short, if you're frustrated with your choices this November, you've got two very different groups to blame: GOP voters and Democratic Party elites.

• Austrian heiress Marlene Engelhorn asked 50 strangers to help distribute $27 million in inheritance.
• Engelhorn, whose ancestor was a rich industrialist, advocates for higher taxes on the ultrawealthy.
• The group proposed giving money to 77 charitable initiatives, including environmental and women's groups.

Earlier this year a 32-year-old Austrian heiress asked a group of complete strangers to decide how best to distribute roughly $27 million of her inheritance.

This week, the group "Good Council for Redistribution" (Guter Rat für Rückverteilung in German) reached a decision on how the money should be spent.

It should be awarded to 77 charitable initiatives over several years, the group said, including several women's shelter associations, children's charities, and climate crisis organizations.

The largest sum, of about $1.75 million, was earmarked for the environmental group Naturschutzbund Österreich, with other potential beneficiaries including the World Inequality Lab, Reporters Without Borders, and Catholic charity Caritas.

Marlene Engelhorn inherited a fortune as the descendant of Friedrich Englehorn, a 19th-century German industrialist who founded BASF, which would become the world's largest chemical producer.

After receiving the inheritance from her grandmother, Traudl Engelhorn-Vechiatto, who died in September 2022, Engelhorn sent out invitations to randomly selected Austrian citizens to help her redistribute her wealth.

Fifty people, aged 16 to 85, were ultimately chosen to decide how the bulk of the money would be spent.

They came from all walks of life and met over six weekends, hearing from experts in redistribution, poverty research, and law before making their decision.

Participants received stipends for childcare and travel expenses.

Englehorn's decision to give away her money, and have others decide how to go about it, received plenty of attention earlier this year.

In a mission statement, Englehorn explained her motives: "Our tax system favors precisely those who already live in abundance: work is taxed highly, wealth is taxed low or not at all."

Englehorn also told The Guardian: "To not redistribute wealth is as much of a distributional decision as to redistribute it."

She's previously called on the Austrian state to tax her 90% of the inheritance, telling Le Monde in 2022 that it was "unfair" to receive such a huge sum, given that she had never worked for it.

Austria abolished inheritance tax in 2008.

Englehorn has advocated for higher taxes on the world's wealthiest people. She also cofounded Tax Me Now, a collective of wealthy people in German-speaking countries calling on global leaders to tax their extreme wealth.

Englehorn, contacted via Tax Me Now, did not immediately respond to Business Insider's request for comment.