I got into rowing my senior year in high school. Growing up in southeast Washington, D.C., which is mostly black, I sometimes had anger toward whites. I thought doing something considered “white” would help me get over some of my negative feelings.

Everyone wanted me to play football, because I was big and fast. But I always leaned toward the unexpected. I also played the oboe. I was cool with everybody in high school, but I knew I was different in other ways too. I was living this ultrastraight life. In the end my friends shrugged off my rowing by saying, “Oh, he’s doing something offbeat again.”

I continued rowing my freshman year at Northeastern University in Boston, but my studies forced me to stop. Then I got cancer two weeks before graduation. I had back pains but figured it was nothing. I was 22, in great health, and an athlete! I started losing feeling in my legs, and became temporarily partially paralyzed.

When I went to the emergency room, they said, “You have to have surgery—tonight.” I had a six-centimeter tumor in my spinal column. The diagnosis was non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma. I’m six years in remission now.

The cancer brought my separate worlds together: my 50-something boyfriend, my straight black friends, my gay white buddies, my family. Everyone was opening up to me, so that’s when I came out to a larger circle of college friends. They were cool and told me they already knew. When my gay friends kissed me in the hospital, my straight friends didn’t squirm.

I didn’t get back into the sport until 2002, when I moved back to Boston after spending two years in Philadelphia to be with my boyfriend of seven years. I felt bad that I’d quit. Every time I saw a crew in the water I wanted to be a part of it. I noticed there was a gay rowing group, the Boston Bay Blades, so I joined. Now I do sweep rowing, which is one oar per person in a group of four or eight.

I’m only semi-out to the team I primarily row with, Community Rowing Inc., which is mostly straight. I don’t hide anything. I’ll tell them I row with the Bay Blades. Most just go, “Oh, OK.” It’s no big deal.

Rowing appeals to my perfectionist nature. It’s a thinking man’s sport and as challenging as any of the projects I tackle as a software engineer. It’s also the ultimate team sport. Everyone has to be in sync. And you know all these homosexuals are going to get it right, because we’ll bitch about it!

To read more of Richardson’s story and inspiring profiles of other gay athletes, including Jamie Nesbitt and Ryan Quinn, pick up a copy of the July issue of Out.