Orlando Cruz And The Fight Outside The Ring: Athletes Versus Macho Culture
Spanish newspaper EL PAÍS recently spoke with three trailblazing athletes who know exactly what it takes to be yourself when the pressure’s on. Water polo star Víctor Gutiérrez, boxer Orlando Cruz, and soccer organiser José María River opened up about their experiences as out athletes in fields often dominated by old-school ideas of manhood.
3rd October 2012: Orlando Cruz became the first out gay professional boxer. He said in a statement: “I’ve been fighting for more than 24 years and as I continue my ascendant career, I want to be true to myself…" #OnThisDay #Queerstory pic.twitter.com/vepEHdguzO
— Gay Community News (@GCNmag) October 3, 2019
The Weight of the Mask
For many, the early days involve silence and fear. Orlando Cruz, a formidable Puerto Rican boxer who represented his country at the Sydney 2000 Olympics, carried a heavy burden. Before coming out publicly in 2012, while ranked number 4 by the WBO, he felt trapped. “I had been living a lie for years, a life that didn’t belong to me,” Cruz shared with EL PAÍS.
Spanish water polo player Víctor Gutiérrez felt similarly during his younger years. The pressure to conform in environments steeped in what sports sociologist Anna Vilanova calls “a very marked hegemonic masculinity” can be intense. Gutiérrez admits to trying hard to hide any sign that might identify him as gay. “Since you’re little, you hear ‘don’t throw like a faggot’ every day,” he explains, “so you put on a mask and try to fit in with what they expect of you.”
That kind of casual homophobia, often dismissed as locker-room banter, takes a toll. José María River, founder of Spain’s first LGBTQIA+ soccer team, notes that immersed in that daily culture, “you take these comments as something natural.” But Vilanova warns this language isn’t harmless; it “puts [LGBTQIA+] people in a position of inferiority and weakness.”
Taking the Leap
Breaking free requires immense courage. For Cruz, coming out at 31 was a leap into the unknown. No active boxer had done it before. For Gutiérrez, who came out publicly in 2016, the motivation was clear: “I decided that I had to share my story to become the role model I never had. I wanted to be for someone what no one was for me.” His journey toward self-acceptance solidified later in life. “It was with the passage of time and going to university that I saw that there are homosexual people and that it is possible to talk openly about it,” Gutiérrez recalls. “I began to embrace myself and to understand that there is nothing wrong with me.”
Aftershocks and Acceptance
Coming out professionally carries real risks. “In the end, you could be putting your livelihood and your job at risk,” Gutiérrez confirms. Both he and Cruz braced for negative reactions. Yet, surprisingly, the reality was often better than the fear. “I thought [everyone] would be against me, but it turned out to be the other way around,” Cruz says. “The boxing world supported me.” Vilanova’s research supports this, finding that most high-level athletes who come out experience positive responses from their immediate sports circle.
However, wider institutional support can be patchy. River recounts frustrating experiences where sporting bodies and clubs initially offer support for his inclusive soccer project, only to quietly withdraw later. “You realise that, when it comes down to it, they always back down,” River states bluntly. “They don’t want trouble.”
Whose Job Is It Anyway?
So, who needs to drive change? Cruz believes athletes need to find their voice: “We have to have more courage. We have to say, ‘This is what I am, so what? It’s my life, so what?’”
Gutiérrez, now involved in Spanish politics as Secretary of LGBTQIA+ policies for the PSOE party, argues the burden shouldn’t rest solely on individuals. He maintains that “…it’s really the federations, the clubs and the politicians who have to oil the machinery so that we, naturally, feel supported when it’s time to take this step.” He stresses the need for visible role models to be complemented by “institutional support, by prior education in clubs, by preventive policies [and] by disciplinary policies.”
It’s a path that requires both personal bravery and systemic change. As Orlando Cruz powerfully puts it, living authentically shouldn’t be controversial. “It’s not bad to love,” he concludes. “It’s not bad to desire.”
