When Naomi Johnson, who recently changed her name from Lendale Johnson, slid across a Queens hard court in 2020 and shouted “I’m gay, pass the ball,” she didn’t just break serve—she shattered a century-old silence in professional tennis. The Kalamazoo-born athlete had already logged International Tennis Federation points, but her Instagram coming-out post made bigger headlines than any match-point she’d saved. Sports outlets praised the milestone; internet trolls hit just as hard. “Some days the hate felt louder than the applause,” she admits, eyes fixed on an invisible baseline.

The backlash followed her home. Johnson’s mother, a devout church usher, begged her to “keep private things private,” and their once-easy phone calls turned into tense volleys of Bible verses. A year of therapy and late-night texts finally brought reconciliation—proof, she says, that love can out-rally doctrine if both sides stay on the court long enough.

Life on tour posed other challenges: locker-room whispers, sponsorships that vanished after rainbow-flag tweets, and opponents who called her a “distraction.” Johnson countered with ranking points and receipts, then launched the Love Set Match Tennis Academy in New York City. The program funnels grant money and donated racquets to queer youth and kids of color who rarely see themselves represented on Centre Court. “If a 12-year-old can practice topspin without shrinking their personality, we win,” she says.

Visibility has opened unexpected doors. She hosted red-carpet segments at the 2023 US Open, interviewed top-10 star Andrey Rublev about inclusion, and landed a feature in The Advocate discussing her evolution from out-gay trailblazer to trans-femme identity—language she’s still exploring publicly and proudly. “Labels change, my serve stays nasty,” she jokes, firing a 128-mph ace during our shoot.

Johnson’s message to the next generation of athletes is simple: authenticity is a performance enhancer. Whether she’s coaching footwork drills, filming a reality-show pilot, or FaceTiming Mom after Sunday service, she refuses to hide behind baseline lines ever again. “Tennis taught me that every point starts fresh,” she says. “So does every day you wake up exactly who you are.”