Dane here: an anonymous contributor wanted to submit their thoughts on the recent outing of Jason Collins, the NBA player. The author concludes that this story is an example of the media framing, and thus making, the news instead of being passive reporters. Give it a read, it's posted below.
By now you’ve heard the first-hand account. You can probably
quote it yourself. “I’m a 34-year-old NBA center. I’m black. And I’m gay.” That
was the monumental announcement from Washington Wizards’ reserve center Jason
Collins, as he stepped out of the closet and into the spotlight as The Big
Four’s first openly-gay male athlete. That was the quote printed in Sports
Illustrated that had news outlets heralding the arrival of a historic day, one
that had been long in the making, one which American culture had been slowly striving
toward. And there’s no doubt that for Collins, today is historic. He mustered
the courage to come forward and say, “This is who I am, take it or leave it” –
no small feat for anyone, regardless of sexual orientation, race, creed, gender,
etc. – and his decision is admirable. But I can’t help wondering about the
forces at work behind his announcement.
Before we go any further, let me make one thing clear: I am
in no way suggesting Jason Collins’ coming-out is in any way an attention-grabber,
a money-maker, an opportunistic answer to the call of narcissism, or anything other than one man’s honesty about
himself, and with himself, laid bare. It’s crucial to approach this argument
with that in mind. Are we good? Can we breathe? Great. Let’s explore.
I want to go back to that quote, that one we all know by
heart. That snappy epiphany with the easy rhythm. It’s pretty profound, it’s
got a groove. And I hope you like it, because you’ll be seeing a lot of it in
the days and months to come. “I’m a 34-year-old NBA center. I’m black. And I’m
gay.” It’s got ‘headline’ written all over it. And already, it’s the de facto epithet
for Collins’ big announcement. News of his newly-come-to-light sexual
orientation broke shortly before noon on Monday, April 29th. By the
time I drove home only a few hours later, the phrase had been beaten into my
head, writ bold in online publications, plastered across lower-thirds on the
cable newscasts, trumpeted on the radio talk shows. The banner was flying. The
message was clear: Collins’ triumph is our triumph.
Ours. Right. Let’s define “ours.” Is it a triumph of the
people? Well, it can’t be all people, because I’ll admit my first reaction when
I read the announcement wasn’t one of triumph. And it wasn’t one of catharsis.
Like I said, I admired Collins’ decision, and I most certainly respected it,
but the truth is, it has zero bearing on my life. I’m a straight male, and I’m
certainly not the sportiest, so I’m sure you can say I don’t understand what
it’s like to live your life with a giant secret; to live your life in fear of
what others might think of you since you’re “outside the norm,” whatever the
norm may be anymore – and you’re right. I don’t know what it’s like. I can’t
speak to the insecurities so many people live with each day. But I’m not trying
to, because that’s not the point. The point is that this sense of triumph being
put on parade is an exhalation of relief for the media, because at last the
prophecy is come true. Our gay athlete is here, and the prodigal son is
returned.
Overly cynical, conspiracy theorist, whack job – plenty of
like phrases are applied if people take an overly critical look at the media,
especially in matters of popular social opinion. And there can be no
equivocating on the fact that regardless of where you stand on the matter, gay
rights are a driving cultural force in our country today. From politics and
business to civil institutions and religion, the issue of homosexuals and their
rights is changing the face of the United States. But it’s in this very issue I
feel the media have forgotten their place. Social media, your Twitters and your
Facebooks, need not apply here; that’s you speaking, not the fourth estate. I’m
talking about the news media, what has ever been lauded as the staple of any
lower-case “d” democratic society. If you take a look at the coverage leading
to today’s announcement from Jason Collins, there can be little question his
decision to open up about his sexuality was akin to a proxy outing on behalf of
major news outlets. For months, it was said some such announcement was only a
matter of time, that a gay athlete was sure to reveal himself in the coming
months. The headlines read like some hack fortune-teller cobbling together a
vision, the shapes in the swami’s crystal ball clouded by the mists of
journalistic integrity. The vagaries, however, didn’t matter; the story
practically wrote itself.
I can’t recall when exactly the buzz over the identity of
the mystery gay athlete began taking shape. Not for a lack of research, I
promise, but because the issue seems to have materialized from those same mists
that kept the media from crafting an accurate, insightful narrative. Minnesota
Vikings kicker Chris Kluwe has long spoken in favor of openly gay athletes, and
has gone to extreme
lengths to make his opinion known. But what sticks in my mind as the
crystallizing point was the end of January 2013, when San Francisco 49ers
cornerback Chris Culliver said gay
players were not welcome on his team, or in professional football. Game
time. Both sides of the story were on the record, and the box for the bare
minimum of accuracy and fairness could now be checked with a clean conscience.
It’s up, it’s good. And to a large extent the story was good – it was
reportable, it was factual, and one could certainly make the argument for
relevancy given how heavily gay rights play in our culture right now. But as
the debate heated up, the tone changed. The media began posing more and more
questions not to whether there was
support for gay athletes – there was; the aforementioned Kluwe, for one, the
Ravens Brendan Ayanbedajo for another, heck, a full 22
athletes speaking in support of any closeted players – but when those gay players were going to
come out. “Magic
Johnson, Mark Cuban agree on support of gay athletes,” read the LA Times on
April 5, 2013 ("’If that ever happened, I would support them 150 percent,’
Johnson said when asked what he'd do if a player on the Dodgers announced that
he was gay.”). “Leagues
prepare for day when gay athlete comes out,” says USA Today on April 11 (“The
day is coming when that will happen, maybe even some day soon). The Huffington
Post grabbed viewers with its story boasting Nike’s
quest to give an endorsement deal to the first openly gay athlete.
And there they were. The pieces that not only postulated as
to the presence of a gay athlete, but every-so-carefully stayed just a few
words short of promising one. Behind all these stories, that niggling message
to any gay athlete was one of a culturally-driven voyeur show. Step forward, we want to see your face,
those stories said. Hurry it up, we want
to show how much we support you, they cried. Come out, come out, whoever you are.
The implications of this are startling. To want something is
one thing. To craft an outcome is another. I’ve noticed a growing backlash –
among my friends, among my family, among the back-and-forth on the same social
media sites I was quick to spurn – against this selective cherry-picking of
stories. I’m loath to use the word agenda; not only because it immediately
shuts down any capacity for critical thought, but because it’s a false flag.
Few are the respectable news outlets who are out to “get anyone,” no matter what
anyone of one political bent or the other says. But I’ve found a swell in the
consensus that there’s an emergent narrative, a creation – intentional or
otherwise – of the same story those outlets are meant to cover.
The media was looking for Jason Collins, and in doing so they
forgot their role to ask the questions and then to tell the story. Whether that impacted today’s announcement
from Collins is something that’s far too soon to say. Collins took the first
step today in a long journey shared by people across the United States, and
across the world. For many, it’s a journey shared in secret, maybe even one
shared in solitude. I just hope he took this step today because in his heart,
he felt it was time; and not because someone else felt it was time in theirs.
