Jason Collins, NBA's First Openly Gay Player, Diagnosed With Brain Tumor
- Saint Trey Wooden
- 1 day ago
- 3 min read
Sports News
Jason Collins, who made history as the first openly gay player in the NBA, has been diagnosed with a brain tumor, his family confirmed this week.
"Jason and his family welcome your support and prayers and kindly ask for privacy as they dedicate their attention to Jason's health and well-being," the statement, released through the NBA read. Collins, 46, is currently undergoing treatment.
Across the basketball world, the news reverberated quickly. The Brooklyn Nets, where Collins played parts of seven seasons, posted on social media: "Sending our love and support to @jasoncollins98 and his family."
Collins' career spanned 13 seasons in the league, including stints with the Nets, Grizzlies, Timberwolves, Hawks, Celtics, and Wizards. But it was not his numbers on the court that etched his name into history; it was his decision in 2013 to come out publicly as gay while still an active player.
At the time, Collins' revelation marked a seismic moment in sports. He was the first active athlete in any of North America's four major professional sports leagues (NBA, NFL, MLB, NHL) to publicly come out. The act of courage reverberated far beyond basketball. It was a rupture in the silence that had long kept queer athletes in the shadows.
Collins played one more season before retiring in 2014. Since then, he has been an outspoken advocate for LGBTQ+ rights, speaking across the country about visibility, inclusion, and the power of living authentically. In 2025, Collins married film producer Brunson Green, his partner since 2014.
When Collins came out in 2013, it was more than a personal declaration—it was a cultural earthquake. Yet a decade later, his example has not been widely followed. The NBA remains largely silent, with Collins still the only active, openly gay player in NBA history.
Meanwhile, the WNBA has been leading the way for years. Players like Brittney Griner, Seimone Augustus, Sheryl Swoopes, and Layshia Clarendon have lived openly, not as side notes to their careers but as central parts of their humanity. Their visibility has reshaped what professional sports can look like when authenticity is not only permitted but celebrated.
That contrast reveals a deeper truth, which is that women's sports, especially the WNBA, have created a culture where queerness is part of the ecosystem, not a scandal. Locker rooms, fan bases, and even league marketing have embraced their players' whole selves. The NBA, by comparison, is still shackled by the rigid codes of masculinity and heteronormativity that have long defined men's sports. The silence is not accidental—it is cultural.
This isn't simply about representation for its own sake. It's about the ripple effect of visibility. Every time a WNBA player like Griner or Clarendon lives openly, a young queer fan sees possibility. Every time an NBA player remains closeted, another young man learns the dangerous lesson that truth can cost him everything.
Collins broke ground, but the lack of successors in the NBA should trouble us. It signals that despite progress, queer men in men's sports remain vulnerable to the weight of stigma and the fear of isolation.
The WNBA shows us the alternative, which is a world where greatness and queerness walk in hand. The NBA must catch up—not because it looks good, but because our young people deserve a vision of athletic excellence that doesn't require erasure.
Collins' diagnosis is a sobering reminder of how life interrupts even our most triumphant narratives. As a community, we send Jason our love, our prayers, and our gratitude. He carried a weight that was not his alone—the burden of being first, of being visible, of being asked to symbolize a movement larger than himself.
Wishing him well is not just a matter of sentiment; it is a recognition of the gift he offered by living openly. It is also a call to the next generation of athletes; especially those in the NBA who know themselves queer but remain quiet to honor Collins' courage by stepping into their own.
Visibility changes the air we breathe. It tells queer youth that they belong not in the margins but in the starting lineup, not hidden in the locker room but celebrated under the lights.
Jason Collin's story has always been larger than basketball. Today, as he faces a different kind of battle, we hold him in care while continuing to demand a sports culture where bravery is not anomaly but norm.
Because the future we want is one where the next Jason Collins does not have to be "the first," only himself.
