Culture
Joao Lucas Reis da Silva, the first out gay active professional male tennis player, was just posting a selfie
Saturday, December 7, Joao Lucas Reis da Silva, a 24-year-old professional tennis player, did about the most normal thing anyone does these days. He posted a couple selfie on Instagram.
It was his partner’s birthday, so he posted a sweet carousel of them posing by the water in Rio de Janeiro. “I love you so much,” he wrote. The post made him a trailblazer — the first out gay active professional male tennis player — but he was just wishing his partner a happy birthday.
“I didn’t think about it… I just wanted to post a picture with him,” Reis da Silva told The Athletic Sunday from São Paolo, in his first international interview since he inadvertently made himself a part of tennis history.
About an hour earlier, he had won a tournament for the first time in four years, defeating Daniel Dutra da Silva 7-5, 1-6, 6-4 to lift the Procopio Cup and earn a spot in the qualifying at the Rio Open, the ATP 500 event he has played the past two years. Not a bad few days for the world No. 367.
“It’s been a crazy week but in the end it was perfect,” he said. After two long injury layoffs, the 24-year-old said he has played the best tennis of his life of late, reaching the semifinals of a tournament in Chile before this run to the title in São Paulo. Even as he felt the tennis world watching him in a way it never had before.
“I didn’t feel pressure,” he said. “I was happy. I had my boyfriend here with me. He was supporting me. My whole team was here.”
The women’s tennis tour has had numerous out gay players, including all-time greats Billie Jean King and Martina Navratilova, who won 98 Grand Slam titles between them across singles and doubles.
Men’s tennis has not been this way. Bill Tilden, the American star who dominated tennis in the 1920s, never publicly discussed his sexuality outside of his 1948 book, “My Story: A Champion’s Memoirs.” Brian Vahaly, who played in the 2000s and reached a career-high of world No. 57, and Bobby Blair, on tour in the 1980s, came out after they had retired from professional tennis.
Reis da Silva said Sunday that he told his family and friends that he was gay five years ago. “Before that, it was tough,” he explained.
“I couldn’t say too much about myself to my coaches, to my friends. When I tried to love myself, that was something different. It changed my life, changed everything, the relationship with my parents, with my coaches.”
Over a year ago, Reis da Silva fell in love with Gui Sampaio Ricardo, a Brazilian actor and model. Then Ricardo’s birthday rolled around for 2024, and Reis da Silva did what 24-year-olds do.
“I was like, ‘Oh my god, it’s my boyfriend’s birthday. Like happy birthday. I love you.’ And then, boom!
“It was so normal for me that I didn’t think about it.”
Messages and support from big names inside and outside the tennis world began to roll in. Lulu Santos, a massive music star in Brazil, sent him a message. Thiago Monteiro, Brazil’s current No. 1, added heart emojis to the post. He got a like from Diego Hypolito, a gay Brazilian gymnast who won a silver medal at the Rio Olympics in 2016.
Just like that, this largely unknown player from Recife, a coastal city in Brazil’s northeast corner, had become a sports and cultural icon. He said he expected to receive some negative reactions, but the responses have been “99.9 percent positive.”
“I’m really happy that people respect me, that people look at me, admire me maybe,” he said.
Joao Lucas Reis da Silva on his way to winning the Procopio Cup in São Paolo, Brazil. (Joao Pires / Photojump)
Speaking in an interview with The Telegraph in 2018, Vahaly said that he heard homophobic comments from other players in the locker room, describing it as “part of the culture.” He added that he hoped for a time when “we can say, ‘Congratulations,’ and then quickly move on. For people to be defined by their sexuality is what we need to get past.”
Reis da Silva, who said he was aware of Vahaly being honored by the U.S. Open (he will be USTA president beginning in 2025), remembers being 18 and hearing someone saying something offensive in the gym.
“In the locker rooms and at tournaments I used to hear some things that kind of bothered me,” he said.
“But when I started to tell everyone that I’m gay and these people knew about it, they stopped saying these things. It’s like when they have someone close to them that is gay, they respect them more. They stop doing sh**** comments,” Reis da Silva said.
“Maybe that’s a big thing to stop it — if people see someone in the top that is gay, things can change. People might stop saying things they shouldn’t that hurt people.”
Alison Van Uytvanck, the recently retired former world No. 37 who is married to physio Emilie Vermeiren, said that she never received any negative comments in the locker room. In an interview earlier this year, Van Uytvanck told The Athletic that “it is kind of surprising“ that the ATP Tour was yet to have an out, active male player.
“If only one player, like a top 100 player, would be open about it, it would be easier for others to open up.”
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Reis da Silva said seeing a role model in the sport would have made a huge difference to him.
“When I was 16, 15, I had problems accepting myself.
“Maybe if I had had someone playing saying, ‘I’m gay, I’m here, I’m competing for the big tournaments,’ it would have been easier for me to accept myself and to love myself. People have told me that. People told me that they admire me. That I inspire people. So it’s a big deal for me and them.
“I don’t have a problem with being remembered as the great gay tennis player,” he said, “but I don’t want to talk about that every time, you know?
“I know there will be a lot of attention on me.”
Born into a tennis-playing family, Reis da Silva said he began hitting balls when he was three. He followed in the footsteps of his brother, who is six years older and who competed at the junior level. As a little boy, Reis da Silva was so obsessed with tennis that he would cry when his father told him it was time to go home.
He began to compete nationally at 10, leaving home at 13 for São Paulo, where he lived and trained for seven years before he moved to Rio de Janeiro. Reis da Silva prefers to battle from the baseline, rather than rush the net, and he rates his service return and his backhand as his biggest weapons.
“I love to break serves,” he said. “I like to stay there in the point and be aggressive in my forehand and play big rallies.”
He has competed throughout the U.S., Europe and Australia in addition to South America, playing the Grand Slams as a junior. After the win in São Paulo, he plans to take a week off, including a few days of holiday with his boyfriend in Porto de Galinhas, the beach town known for its natural pools and white sand. He will then spend Christmas with his boyfriend’s family in Goiania, a small city in the center of the country near the capital, Brasilia.
Joao Lucas Reis da Silva hitting his favorite shot during the Wimbledon boys’ singles in 2018. (Michael Steele / Getty Images)
After that, he will return to Rio to begin preparations for some Challenger tournaments (one rung below the ATP Tour) that lead into the South American ATP Tour swing in February and the Rio Open. His big goal for 2025 is to play in the qualifying tournament for Roland Garros — and to build the tennis life he wants.
“It’s an individual sport, so you can be whatever you want,” he said hopefully. “Everybody will accept you.”
(Top photo: Joao Pires / Photojump)
Where do you turn when you need advice? A chatbot? A life coach? A wise and trusted friend?
How about a poet? Poets may not be famous for making the best life choices, but because they subject the mess of human existence to the discipline of language, they can be as helpful as any therapist or mentor.
Good poets know the rules and when to break them, which is something they can teach the rest of us.
To wit:
Giving advice is a peculiar literary undertaking. It flourishes in certain popular genres — graduation speeches, newspaper columns, country and western songs and poems like this one — but what, in these contexts, is it really for?
I’m thinking of situations when you don’t urgently need help but nonetheless enjoy reading answers to questions you may not have thought to ask. What interests you isn’t the content of the advice — you could get all the life hacks you want from A.I. — so much as the voice of the person dispensing it.
Wendy Cope is an English poet, born in 1945, who has been a fixture of her country’s literary scene since the 1980s. More recently, her short, buoyant poem “The Orange” has been widely memed online, bringing her to the attention of new readers beyond Britain.
Cope favors rhyme, meter, brisk jokes and tart aperçus. She addresses romance, friendship and the petty absurdities of modern life with disarming good humor. The last line of “The Orange” is “I love you. I’m glad I exist.” Somehow she makes it the opposite of cringe.
This isn’t the kind of poetry you would describe as “confessional.” And yet …
Question 1/7
Stop, if the car is going “clunk”
Or if the sun has made you blind.
Don’t answer e–mails when you’re drunk.
Tap a word above to fill in the highlighted blank.Want to learn this poem by heart? We’ll help.
Fill in the missing words below. You can always refer to the reading by A.O. Scott and full
text above.Let’s start with the first stanza.
A strong sense of place can deeply influence a story, and in some cases, the setting can even feel like a character itself. This week’s literary geography quiz highlights places where authors were born (or lived) that later became locations in their books. To play, just make your selection in the multiple-choice list and the correct answer will be revealed. At the end of the quiz, you’ll find links to the works if you’d like to do further reading.
AMERICA, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation’s Anniversaries, by Eddie S. Glaude Jr.
For those of us in the national memory-keeping business, anniversaries hold near-totemic power. Satisfyingly round units of time, ideally bearing fancy, Latin-derived names, serve as the overburdened pegs on which to hang think pieces and museum exhibits, revisionist documentaries and maudlin public ceremonies. The arbitrary nature of such occasions is precisely what gives them their charge, inviting us to set aside complacency and submit to a comprehensive check-in.
In his new book, “America, U.S.A.,” Eddie S. Glaude Jr. presents an intriguing variation on the genre, seeing the country’s 250th birthday as an anniversary of anniversaries: 50 years since the malaise-ridden, schlock-heavy Bicentennial. A century since the subdued Prohibition-era Sesquicentennial. A century and a half since telegraphed reports of George Armstrong Custer’s defeat by the Lakota and Cheyenne at Little Bighorn rudely interrupted the Gilded Age Republic’s 100th birthday party.
If an anniversary offers a snapshot of a moment, the core of Glaude’s book is an old-timey photo album, a collection of notable episodes from earlier national reckonings, long-ago glances in the mirror. An estimable scholar of Black history, politics and religion at Princeton — best known for “Begin Again,” his 2020 meditation on James Baldwin’s relevance for our times — Glaude focuses, as his subtitle puts it, on “how race shadows the nation’s anniversaries.”
Such celebrations, he contends, have never really been the moments for honest self-reflection they are often advertised to be. Instead, the nation usually shatters the mirror, refusing to accept what it prefers not to see. “American anniversaries are often moments to turn a blind eye to the evils of the past and the present,” Glaude writes, “to suppress the fact of America’s divided soul.”
It’s a clever concept, and, needless to say, perfectly timed. Last year, Glaude notes, the Trump administration executed a hostile takeover of the government’s studiously bipartisan 250th anniversary planning. It is now preparing a program that is certain to conceal more than it reveals about the country ostensibly being celebrated.
Glaude, in no mood for celebration, argues that such omissions and evasions also defined commemorations in the past. In 1875, Frederick Douglass predicted “one grand Centennial hosannah of peace and good will to all the white race of this country.” He was right: The nation reached 100 years old at a crucial moment in the post-Civil War fight over racial equality, with white Northerners ready to give up on Southern Reconstruction. The occasion would help the once-warring sections to reunite around a shared commitment to white supremacy. On May 10, 1876, at the opening of the Centennial Exposition in Philadelphia, the police tried to bar Douglass from the grandstand, until a white politician vouched for him.
The 150th anniversary came soon after a resurgent Ku Klux Klan successfully pushed for a restrictive immigration law aimed at keeping America a “Nordic” nation. At the lavishly funded, lightly attended celebrations in Philadelphia, Black veterans of World War I were excluded from marching in the opening parade. A writer with The Associated Negro Press wondered “what was in the breast of those black men who fought to make America safe for Democracy and on Monday stood on the sidelines, forgotten, as the Nordic strode by in all his vain pride.”
By 1976, when the nation marked its Bicentennial, the violence of the ’60s had destroyed any semblance of consensus. Vietnam and Watergate had eroded trust in the government. The commission initially tasked with organizing the anniversary was disbanded amid reports of corruption. Corporations filled the vacuum, Glaude explains, with “star-spangled whoopee cushions; patriotic toilet seats; Liberty hamburgers; red, white and blue beer cans.” The author, around 8 years old at the time, dimly remembers donning a pair of tricolor trousers.
A half-century later, Glaude is refreshingly honest about the depths of his despair. “I do not love America, and never have, especially now,” he writes in one of the more startling opening sentences I’ve read in some time. He dismisses this year’s Semiquincentennial as reaching back “to a storybook America that requires either the banishment of Black people from view or the reduction of our role in the country’s history, so as to affirm America’s ongoing quest to be a more perfect union.”
Undoubtedly true. But Trump doesn’t own the country, at least not yet, nor the 250th anniversary of one of the most radically liberatory and confusingly contradictory events in world history — an inspiration, as Glaude shows, even to critical observers of the American experiment, like Douglass. Far from the revanchist MAGA-palooza in Washington, I suspect this summer’s unasked-for invitation to national soul-searching may surprise us yet.
Despite his despair, Glaude concludes that “the past still offers resources for us to freedom-dream.” So, too, does this book.
AMERICA, U.S.A.: How Race Shadows the Nation’s Anniversaries | By Eddie S. Glaude Jr. | Crown | 270 pp. | $31
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