"I'd have loved to have had children," mused Jersey property tycoon David Kirch, 76, in a contemplative interview in the Times on Monday. "In my lifetime I have seen [people] going to prison for being gay and now [they are] adopting children."

Kirch is right to marvel at such progress, and in his own lifetime, too. With gay marriage now being legalised in various western countries from New Zealand to France, and its state-by-state progress across the US, it is easy to assume that, for a large part, the bad old days are behind us. This year, Bill Clinton took the almost unknown step for a US president of expressing regret for an action he took in office – specifically, signing the Defense of Marriage Act (Doma) – saying that "times have changed".

Well, they have and they haven't and it's worth noting just how much further there is still to go. It feels especially worthwhile to take stock now in Britain before the Conservative party makes its inevitable judder rightwards in response to Ukip, possibly divesting itself of any of its recent nods to gay rights, like hot air balloonists merrily chucking off ballast, in order to make that swerve all the more violently.

Sport, both US and UK, has come increasingly under the spotlight over the past week in regards to its attitude to gay sportsmen since NBA star Jason Collins announced in Sports Illustrated that he is gay. This provoked deserved hand-wringing among sports commentators in Britain: how can a male professional team athlete come out in the US (a country in which it is still legal in 29 states for an employer to discriminate against and fire a worker for being gay) and yet, in Britain, this feels like a distant dream? The Observer reported last weekend that "at least eight professional footballers" have revealed that they are gay to teammates, but have refused to do so publicly because of concerns, doubtless justified, about "the fans".

In comparison, American sports and, so far, their fans, too, are looking downright progressive. Robbie Rogers left Leeds United earlier this year, saying that to be publicly gay and play English football was "impossible", but is now training with LA Galaxy. Collins is not the first American pro team athlete to come out – that accolade goes to 1970s baseball player Glenn Burke, whose team then offered to pay him to go through with a sham marriage – but he, thus far, seems to be having the easiest time of it, a sign that, as Clinton says, some things have definitely changed.

Some things, though, have not. First, the few sportsmen who have come out, with the occasional exception, announced it either when they retired or towards the end of their careers (Collins is 34, which is about 58 in athlete years, and his contract is up in July). And two, a male athlete coming out still provokes a lot more public astonishment than when a woman does it. Women athletes have been coming out for decades, as underlined by Martina Navratilova's approving tweet about Collins. In fact, only a month before Collins made his announcement Brittney Griner, a feted Women's National Basketball Association draft pick, had come out and coverage was close to nothing.

Partly this is because men's sports have a much greater audience, but it also reflects some old stereotypes that have been frequently aired since Collins came out. Gay women are expected to be unfeminine, even masculine, so for a female athlete to be gay is, if not quite expected, then definitely not far off. Gay men, on the other hand, are assumed to be nerdy, girlish, feminine – in other words, the opposite of how people think of male athletes.

This stereotype was reinforced by, of all people, Oprah Winfrey, who has, of course, interviewed Collins. Clips of their encounter have been released on the web. In one, Winfrey, while conceding that there is "a spectrum of human experience", ostensibly asks if, as a little boy, Collins played "with Barbie dolls" and was "sensitive". (Collins assures her he is "well-rounded".) As a stereotype, this is only a breath away from wannabe pundit Niall Ferguson's bizarre claim last week that John Maynard Keynes didn't care about the future because he was gay, childless and too busy glitterspraying his platform boots. Ferguson has since apologised for his "off-the-cuff" remark, but his apology would have more weight if he hadn't made similarly disparaging comments about Keynes's sexuality in the past, including in his 1998 book, The Pity of War. Homophobic jeering is not limited to English football terraces.

Superbowl-winning NFL linebacker Brendon Ayanbadejo has, for several years, been trying to overturn such damaging stereotypes, despite attempts of politicians to shut him up. Last weekend, Ayanbadejo said in a TV interview that people need to "erase the stereotype" that gayness has anything to do with "femininity". He also announced last month that he is currently helping to co-ordinate the coming-out announcements of four current NFL members.

If this actually happens, then it may well be the true game changer in the US. With the notable exception of Gareth Thomas, Britain has yet to have its own high-profile gay male athlete. But at the moment, the only male celebrities in Britain and the US who appear to be able to come out and continue their careers have proven to be – surprise, surprise! – entertainers. Because that's what gay men are like, right? Sparkly and funny, not masculine and strong.

Until that changes, we're still hacking down the slow path of progress.