Coming out to my parents was easy because over the years they had been prepped while I slowly stood up for LGBT issues around our house. Coming out to my college football team was a different story. I felt segregated by the coaching staff and players. Only one person had my back, a 6’5 white male with red hair and tattoos all over his body. He looked more like the Devil’s son than anything else, but he was a great ally. He lived with me the year before I came out and we bonded over everything, including my sexuality, as long as I didn’t bring boys home. The coaching staff was not hateful but they feared that my sexuality would make others on the team feel uncomfortable. I was asked to live in a nearby town, and to only come on campus for class and football related events. These “provisions” hurt me, but I felt that this was the only way to compete.
I felt alone and afraid because of what was being asked of me. I hid my life from the world. I spent much of that time in my one bedroom apartment drunk and alone, waiting for something to pick me up again. As a black man it was even worse because I didn’t have anyone to turn to that looked like me. I lived in the town of Belvenon, Pennsylvania with a population of around 2000 people. I would guess 95% of the people were white and the rest of the town Mixed. I was the lone black male in the apartment I stayed in. There was only one bar and three liquor stores in town. I was lost. Luckily, I found strength as the season wore on in a very unlikely ally. His name was Carl Jay. Carl both loved and feared me because I was as tough as it got on the team. Carl played tackle next to me. Of all of the O-linemen who played with us, Carl was the last person to really accept my sexuality. He hesitated mainly because of the background he came from.
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