As their teammates traded pre-game handshakes at center court, Johnson, an auto plant worker’s son from Lansing, Michigan, and Thomas, a native of Chicago’s hardscrabble West Side, stepped toward one another.
The best friends shook hands. Then they kissed one another on the cheek.
In this episode of 'The Reckoning,' we delve deeper into the allegations of sexual assault against former NBA star Dwight Howard. Our guest, Joseph Williams, The Reckonings' Race and Health Editor, discusses his recent article on the same topic.
In 2020, at the peak of his career, Dwight Howard had a list of accomplishments many of his pro basketball peers would envy: a championship with the Los Angeles Lakers, multiple selections to NBA all-star teams, a seven-figure salary and sportswriters debating whether the Atlanta native is among the greatest players in history.
It was 30 years ago, on November 7, that basketball legend Earvin “Magic” Johnson Jr. announced he’d acquired HIV. No other HIV disclosure has had such a reverberating impact before or since. From the Great Western Forum in Los Angeles, where he achieved era-defining success with the LA Lakers, the cherub-faced icon held a press conference where he revealed he was living with HIV and would immediately retire from basketball. The magnitude of this event was due not only to his popularity as a sports hero; he was a 32-year-old heterosexual Black man who appeared to be perfectly healthy and still in his athletic prime.
Unlike other celebrities with HIV whose disclosure and/or death made mainstream (Rock Hudson, Liberace) and LGBTQ (Sylvester) headlines, Magic was not gay, nor did he use intravenous drugs. He was heterosexual, which meant he was "just like anybody else" and not like those dispensable others. Those others made up a besieged minority who did not need to be convinced that AIDS was real. Among them were Black gay men.
One of the goals in softball is to return to the same home plate you started from, but Jeremy Nobles’s journey through the sport led him to a new world.
“Growing up, being around the same people, doing the same thing every day and every weekend,” Nobles says, describing his life as a 20-year-old in Moundville, Ala., population less than 2,500. “And just knowing in the back of my head that I like guys and there’s no way the people I hang around with would acknowledge or understand that. It’s hard living with that kind of secret with nobody to talk to, and trying to find myself—I just didn’t know what to do.”
