Overtime | NBA unable to accept homosexuality

Kyle Nelson Columnist

Earlier this month, John Amaechi, a retired black British basketball player, came out and became the first openly homosexual to have played in the National Basketball Association (NBA). What does this mean? First, let’s consider the obvious. The NBA is a corporation just like all American professional sports leagues, and as most corporations, its success relies on the ability to integrate national ideals and cultural norms into its product. Without this, in an organization where popularity and image sell tickets, failure is imminent. So, what are these American ideals that the NBA is obligated to follow? Perhaps the most sacred is heterosexuality.

The league’s atmosphere is fraternal and it functions like an exclusive club with rules and codes. When a player breaks any rule, the bond of trust is broken and he is immediately cast out. In the NBA patriarchy, which is historically governed by hyper-masculinity, a homosexual athlete presents a problem to other athletes, the employer, and the league’s foundations. To compound this issue, imagine if the athlete were black. It is no secret that the NBA is predominately black, and that the perceived (and accepted) stereotypes of black athletes in America are over-sexualized and heteronormative in nature. Thus, the space that the commodified black athlete occupies in the NBA is as American as apple pie and, well, racism.

When Wilt Chamberlain announced that he had slept with 20,000 women, criticism was minimal. After all, he merely followed the role levied upon him as an African-American athlete in American society. When Magic Johnson’s promiscuity and sexual activity resulted in a positive HIV test, America was shocked. However, once his heterosexuality was confirmed, he became a hero of sorts, and his battle against AIDS was suddenly followed. The common denominators between the situations of Johnson and Chamberlain rest in three very obvious, though very important, factors: both were black, heterosexual, and American.

Amaechi challenges every ideal by which the American patriarchy and the NBA stand. As a black British homosexual, his situation not only invites specters of homophobia, but also xenophobia and racism. By now, we have all heard Amaechi’s stories of racism, homoeroticism, and homophobia in the league. We’ve all heard how future Hall of Fame coach Jerry West ostracized him because of his perceived homosexuality. We’ve all heard former All-Star Tim Hardaway’s recent comments; and I quote, “I hate gay people. I let it be known. I don’t like gay people. I don’t like to be around gay people. I’m homophobic. I don't like it. There shouldn’t be a world for that or [a place] in the United States for it. I don’t like it.”

If this incident teaches us anything, it only shows how little progress we as a country have made toward accepting homosexuality. We live in a culture in which homosexuality is taboo. Amaechi is criticized, even by myself at first, for not coming out and breaking down barriers while still playing in the league; the perception is that he could have forced his fellow players to confront their stereotypes in the locker room instead of through PR representatives. But think about it logically. Even if the NBA is as homoerotic as any other professional athletic league, it is still a space grounded in heteronormativity. The NBA, if anything, acts as a microcosm of the American patriarchy, and as we are all well aware, mainstream American acceptance of homosexuality is not exactly on the horizon. Thus, It is not surprising that a foreigner would be the first to have the courage to come out, because he was never socialized by American culture—let alone America’s amateur basketball culture of shoe wars, commodification, and false entitlement. He also did not grow up in the same environment as most NBA basketball players, and was not taught from an early age that the only acceptable lifestyle for a black male in sports is heterosexual and promiscuous.

American culture is backwards enough about homosexuality, but the NBA creates an environment that is homophobic. It also militantly polices its heteronormativity. Portland Trailblazer Zach Randolph was accused of rape this summer and the league protected him, but is a homosexual athlete a larger threat? The league’s PR staff covers up infidelity, sex addiction, gambling addiction, and violence on a regular basis, yet is the idea of a closeted homosexual in the locker room somehow worse? And now, NBA Commissioner David Stern officially protects Hardaway’s right to free speech, while refusing to support Amaechi’s homosexuality. This is the true hypocrisy of our culture, one in which a race can be commodified and controlled, and one in which any deviation from its patriarchal and heterosexual norms is considered dangerous.

Amaechi: an intellectual, articulate, cultured, talented, and mature black basketball player, but to the NBA, as well as the American patriarchy, John Amaechi is one thing and one thing only: a black homosexual. Until the league stops its silent enforcement of heteronormative unaccountability and works towards correcting centuries of socialization and abuse, what is the chance that there will ever be an “out” homosexual player in the league, when at the end of the day, they still need to get paid somehow?

But I suppose the joke is on the NBA: Amaechi is a new celebrity, and he will continue to make millions off of the league’s image, even if his tenure as a player has long since ended.