Life, Love, and Football: An Interview with R.K. Russell
Currents
After coming out as the first openly bi player in the NFL, R.K. Russell tackled what he refers to as one of the greatest challenges of his life: writing The Yards Between Us: A Memoir of Life, Love, and Football (2023). Throughout its pages, Russell shares his insights on how his teams became his family, overcoming the pressures and stereotypes associated with sports culture, and what drove him to risk it all by coming out after tirelessly working to reach the peak of professional football.
As both an athlete and bi man myself, R.K.’s story isn’t one I’ve heard before. It is, however, one that resonates deeply with my own experiences in sports and society. As we spoke about the impact of football on Russell’s life, the fear of uniting his career as a professional athlete with his sexuality as a proud bi man, and more, one thing became clear. Bi athlete or not, there is something for everyone in this book.
Blaize Stewart: As a lifelong athlete, what have you learned from being immersed in sports from a young age? What about being a part of that culture helped you embrace your bisexuality? On the flip side, were there any parts of sports culture that hindered your journey to acceptance with your bisexuality?
R.K. Russell: As a young person, what drew me to sports, and specifically football was the team aspect of it. I grew up a child to a single-parent mother who worked a lot to put food on the table for me and a lot of my time outside of school was spent alone. I think team and football and having those people know my name and support, uplift, and cheer for me — and pick me up when I was down — was a big part of what drew me to it. It's what I loved about it. Regardless of whether I could remember the scores of the games or the wins and losses, I could always remember those moments in the locker room or those moments on the field with my teammates.
It's funny because those are the same things that hindered me from coming out, or from even exploring my sexuality, because I wondered what my teammates would think, what my opportunities would be like for football moving forward, and if I would be able to continue to be on these teams and meet these people and have this experience and impact. Once I got to the professional level, it was about being able to provide for the mother that had sacrificed so much to provide for me. Would I still be able to do that on that same scale if I had come out or if I had even explored my bisexuality?
BS: Chosen family is such a big part of the LGBT community, and it sounds like your teammates, coaches, and everyone in that sphere became a chosen family to you. I think when we find it, sometimes there's a fear of losing that chosen family as well – is that something you felt?
RR: Definitely. I was very confident in my ability to be a great teammate. I was very confident in my ability to be a great friend and [...] mentor. But when you look outside of the sphere of sports, and how we see men and masculinity in our culture, it does at times feel very limited. Growing up, it felt very black and white. The lines were very set in stone of “Boys don't talk about these things.” You don't share these emotions, you don't show these emotions, you don't venture off into these topics.
Then, when you become a man, the lines are set in stone [and] there's just a lot of things that you don't question or challenge. After coming out, there were many conversations happening between me and my teammates about family, love, and our own journeys, and I was like, “Why have we never talked about this before?” Outside of what colleges we went to and how much we've bench-pressed, why have we never talked about the full spectrum of what it means to be a human?
BS: Do you think there were elements of your bisexuality that helped push you as an athlete to maintain that status or those close bonds with your teammates? And were there any elements of your bisexuality holding you back as well?
RR: For sure. For me, there was so little information about bisexuality available I really didn't understand being bi as a destination. It was always brought up to me as transitional. It seemed like it was almost unattainable. It was like a unicorn. You talk about bi people, and you see them on TV, but they're not real. For me, that was the hardest part about the journey because being straight obviously didn't fit. [...] And being gay was weird because [...] the label just didn't feel like it encompassed how I saw the world. That was a challenge.
In terms of my vibe in football, once I got to that point of coming out I was like, “Okay, I'm bisexual, I'm just going to go with it.” I'm going to not care what everyone else says, but this is going to be a very personal, private thing for me. I'm not going to share it with the world. I started to compartmentalize my life. I was like, oh, I'm bi. I could date women and throw people off and [not be] the guy in the locker room who had never brought a girl around for five, six seasons where the guys are like, “Huh, that's interesting.” But that just leads you into more heartbreak, because now what are you dating for? To find someone or to hide something or what's going on?
Having what I thought was the ability to choose became a hindrance to me. Trying to compartmentalize my life and only showing all the things that are straight and keeping everything else private and secret — you can't live a life so separated like that.
BS: I can relate to that a lot — both the compartmentalization and just not having that access to information or representation. What would it have meant to you as an up-and-coming athlete, or just even an up-and-coming bi man, to see an out and successful professional or collegiate athlete embracing their bisexuality in a proud and confident way?
RR: It would've meant the world to me. I mean, I wasn't trying to be the first. That was such an unknown thing, such an unknown future, such an unknown connection to football. Everything about it was a question mark at that point, especially when I was in college, and the NFL was becoming more of a possibility. To see someone and feel like it'd be possible, we talk about it to death — but we talk about it because it’s very important.
We as human beings need to have a physical manifestation of ourselves doing the things that we love, [living] the dreams that we have, and succeeding, just so it seems possible. That's what I love most about writing this book: having something physical and tangible that athletes, people of color, men, masculine-presenting people, football fans, and bi people can read my journey and [...] relate with parts. Then it seems like a little less unknown, a little less scary.
BS: Is that what motivated you to come out at that level? The NFL is the peak of professional football. What made that risk worth it for you?
RR: Oh my gosh. My coming out journey was a blessing but started off very hard for me. I had a best friend in college, Joseph Gilliam, who was the first person I ever came out to. We were roommates and teammates all through college, I even introduced him to his wife — just a really good guy. He was diagnosed with stage four cancer in 2017 when I was starting for the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, and after a year of fighting, he passed away. This was also the same time I had a significant shoulder injury that, the doctor said, would take me away from football for a minimum of a year. I was at the point where [my] two worlds and the compartmentalization of my public persona and this private secretive life were in crisis because I lost the closest person to me and this career that I was sacrificing so much for.
When everything was stripped away, and it was just me looking at myself in the mirror, I realized I wasn't happy. Regardless of the pinnacles of success I reached, the financial stability I had, I wasn't happy with me. Football was always going to come and go, eventually. People enter our lives and leave, or sadly pass away — but I'm always going to be with me. I'm always going to be stuck with me. I needed to start to figure out what I needed to do to feel good just in my own skin, in my own life, regardless of the things I could obtain.
That's what brought me to LA and finding love for myself and for my partner Corey O’Brien. At that point, I had so much happiness inside and so much joy and peace in my life at a time that on paper should have been devastating. I was like, okay, this is something I want to keep regardless of what my career or what life throws at me.
BS: After taking that step, how does it feel to see more collegiate and professional athletes embracing being LGBT? What do you think sports organizations can do to help make that experience easier for them or less harrowing than what you had to go through?
RR: I'm super proud of every athlete, regardless of the level that they compete at, who understands that [being LGBT] is not in conflict with the sport that they do. If anything, embracing yourself and loving yourself, and having that confidence and courage within can only make you a better athlete. I think it's miraculous that athletes so young are coming to these realizations and, in these profound moments, saying something as simple as “This is who I am, and this is the sport I play, and those two things do not conflict with each other.” I also think coming out has opened my eyes to the LGBT athletes [...] whose stories I want to use my platform to amplify.
I think it starts very simple. Moving forward, leagues need to be open to LGBT athletes. It starts with being clear on where you stand. It can sound political [...], but it's not. There's nothing political about allowing someone to be the person that they are and to love who they want to love and to just come, whether it be to work or a team or to meetings or locker rooms as their full self. There's nothing political about that, it’s just humans loving other humans and allowing them to be themselves.
It starts with what you show. Show different types of families that come to your game, and show the diverse fan base that most of your teams have. Quit trying to give us this old-school cookie-cutter picture of what it means to be an athlete or a fan or a coach. Show us the truth that you can be anybody and do all of these things as long as you have the hard work, determination, and passion to do it. That's the foundation that you need before you do the big campaigns. If the foundation isn't right, the rest will seem performative, and it'll crumble.
BS: Turning toward your memoir, are there specific audiences you're trying to reach with this book? Was it more cathartic for you or were you writing with various audiences in mind?
RR: I think I started writing it for little six or seven-year-old R.K. to whom the world often seemed scary or unknown or even set up in ways to combat you, to oppress you, to silence you, to erase you. Being a black man as well, I went through a lot of experiences that I know people of color in this country specifically face. The book is definitely a love letter to all of the LGBT community, to all of the people of color in this country, and to anyone who loves sport, who isn't the stereotypical image of what that sport looks like. For all those people, there's something in there for you. It's a message of team spirit. It's a message of community. To me, team is the closest word to family. It's about uplifting each other. It's about being there for each other. It's about defending each other.
BS: What has been your proudest moment since coming out?
RR: The book for sure. I've been saying this recently, and people look at me when I'm crazy, but even including playing football in the NFL, this book has been the hardest thing I've ever done in my life. It's something I'm so proud of. [...] Anytime I get to speak to people about my journey, and they tell me that I've helped them in some way, [...] it’s such an amazing moment for me every time. It really fuels the idea that this is my purpose in life and what I'm supposed to be doing. And that's an amazing feeling.
BS: What has it been like finding a partner after all this time and growing together? You've already mentioned that you've found great happiness.
RR: There are obviously challenges, and we've had our ups and our downs, but the beauty is it's always been “we.” Whether the hardships are internal or external, it's still an us. It's still a unit. I think that's something I've never had before, and it's something that I value so much. It’s also just having a future. Beyond football, I really didn't see what my life would be like. I didn't envision myself growing old or having kids or all these things. I thought they seemed so far off because I was so focused on football, but it was really because I wasn't living a full life. I wasn't allowing myself to love and to hope and dream. Meeting Corey allowed me to do that.
BS: Great segue to my next question: 10 years down the road, what does your life look like? Both personally and professionally, what do you think is down the line for you?
RR: 10 years from now, I would love to be married with kids. I would love to write another book, if not two more books by then. My memoir The Yards Between Us is also being adapted by Sony Pictures Television in conjunction with Gabrielle Union co-executive producing. I would love to continue to tell stories, whether they be on the silver screen or the big screen. It's really just about the story. Wherever the story takes me, wherever I feel like the people who need to be heard or need to be seen are, that's where I'll go. I don't know what the opportunities are going to be like ten years from now, but I know that wherever the stories are and where the impact is, I hope to be there.
This interview has been edited for clarity and length.
Published Aug 8, 2023
