What Kobe Can Teach Us About Ourselves
Photo by Mario Tama
By Jake Stika
On mixed legacies, fallen heroes & dual truths.
Kobe Bryant was a five-time NBA champion, an 18-time NBA all-star, the fourth all-time in NBA scoring, a two-time Olympic Gold medalist, and once even recorded 81 points in a single game, a tally only bested once, on another unimaginable night, by another giant of the game.
That’s what these numbers turned Kobe into: a giant of the game of basketball. And those who know Next Gen Men—or know of my own burning passion for, and semi-pro career in, the game—know that we love basketball.
Kobe was a great man. He loved his family, and did good work in his communities. He was fluent in English, Spanish, and Italian. He was an idol and role model to countless people—especially men and boys, especially Black men and boys—and he even won a frigging Academy Award.
All this is true. And it’s true that in the summer of 2003, he was arrested as part of a sexual assault investigation. It’s true that he admitted to an adulterous sexual encounter with his accuser but denied her sexual assault allegation. In September 2004, the assault case was dropped by prosecutors after the accuser decided not to testify at the trial. Kobe spoke to the accusations publicly himself:
“Although I truly believe this encounter between us was consensual, I recognize now that she did not and does not view this incident the same way I did. After months of reviewing discovery, listening to her attorney, and even her testimony in person, I now understand how she feels that she did not consent to this encounter.”
We were forced to confront this complicated legacy when Kobe Bryant, along with his 13-year-old daughter Gianna, and seven others perished in a tragic helicopter accident in January 2020.
This article was originally featured in the Future of Masculinity zine. Get it here.
On social media, many were quick to pour out their veneration for a man once dubbed in the basketball world as ‘heir Jordan.’ Others were quick to point out that Kobe, much like the rest of us, was a human being with his own flaws and history. People saw in him either the hero, or the once-accused. All we could agree on was that he wasn’t forgettable.
It was a moment when we needed to, if not mourn, then at least collectively mark the loss of a momentous figure. Instead, we were left with the complicated but all-too-familiar question of how to, or even if to, celebrate legacies that are distinctly mixed.
So, while the internet trolls and truth tellers readied their ammo and picked their sides, I was left to wonder which was worse: setting aside the ugly facts of a real episode in this late man’s life, long enough to mourn it, or setting aside the man himself, despite the real-life regret, empathy and rebuilding that we saw from him, in word and deed.
In the end, I reached a takeaway: Two things can be true at the same time.
Imagine, for example, your grandfather. Maybe you remember him for how he worked hard to provide for your family, and gave selflessly so that you and others could have things you needed and wanted, and get further ahead. Maybe you remember him for being emotionally distant and dictatorial.
Which truth is more true? Neither. Which truth is untrue? Neither.
Take then, for example, yourself. Every day, you work hard, care for others, and generally try to be the best person you can be. You also, inevitably, fuck up, drop the ball, and hurt the same people you love. So which one is the real truth about you? Chances are you represent a multitude of truths. Most people do.
Many times in our lives, in thinking of someone we know or remembering someone we’ve lost, we’re left with cognitive dissonance: a standoff between our own memories of someone and their actual actions in life.
This standoff can never be won, by one side or the other, or resolved in any definitive way. And that’s a good thing: resolution isn’t the point. It’s an opportunity for a conversation—a nuanced one with ourselves, not one with winners or losers.
How we balance the good and the bad of people teeters on which truths resonate most with us. Unpacking it must start with self-reflection about our own biases, personal experiences and beliefs. These, and the moral codes they shape in us, are the lens through we see the world, and judge it.
It’s okay to have complicated emotions or judgements about someone or something. It means on some level you recognize that truth exists as a complex spectrum of grey and not black or white. But we can’t let ourselves be passive when it comes weighing truths and forming opinions. We have to play an active role, facing our biases, challenging our assumptions, and doing our best to stare right into our blindspots.
So back to Kobe, though, in the end, it’s not really just about him.
Powerful men do abuse their power, survivors overwhelmingly don’t lie about being assaulted, and being a basketball star doesn’t make you different under the law of the land, or under the laws of Right and Wrong. That applies to Kobe too.
The fact he was a hero for so many people doesn’t mean he should get a free pass—in fact it means the bar is higher.
It doesn’t mean the facts don’t matter, or that ‘alternate facts’ can let him off the hook—it means the truth matters even more.
That truth just isn’t any simpler. To not engage with both the light and the dark of Kobe is a missed opportunity. It doesn’t matter if that exploration doesn’t lead to an answer, because it’s not about finding an answer. It's about developing a skill, one we need to find the truths that will guide our own way, which is how to look straight into those shades of grey.
Jake Stika is the Executive Director of Next Gen Men and one of its co-founders.