By Kane Jenkins
This article uses and does not censor homophobic slurs, homophobia, strong profanity, mental illness, and substance abuse. Reader discretion is advised.
On the night of December 2nd, NHL goal tender Logan Klicker cried and begged to be normal—to be straight. Although there were many factors influencing this breakdown, it was the events of the Carindals and Stingers game that dealt the final blow to his confidence and self-acceptance. When Stinger player Erik Fluery told Cardinal's center Macial Bacques to "Go suck a dick like your faggot goalie." Those words hurt, Klicker admitted, but it almost hurt worse that the whole world decided to pretend it never happened.
Because that appears to be how fans of the NHL, the league itself, and teammates treat queer players in the game. As if they don't exist. A dirty little secret that everybody knows but no one talks about. Unless they directly confront society's image of a heterosexual, cisgender, hypermasculine man. Fluery's words that night might have presented how the sport actually feels about queerness, even if they claim solidarity and support for the LGBTQ+ community. Even as Klicker experienced an untreatable wound from the silence around the shame of his identity, other NHL players could only pray for silence around their sexuality.
Such as Liam Lindahl.
Four years into his NHL career—barely three years ago— an angry ex and eager tabloids wrongfully forced Lindahl out of the closet. Without much choice, because denying the rumors would only make it seem true, Lindalh made history as the first out and active NHL player in the league's history. He followed the pioneering footsteps of retired players like Corbin Lowe and Shane Youngman, who both opened up about their sexuality after already retiring their skates.
"I don't think, even today with a couple of youngsters active and out, that I could be gay, an active hockey player," Corbin Lowe admitted over a Zoom call early in the 2023-2024 hockey season. "I mean, the league and fans seem to be more accepting and all, but pride nights and charity events will not change the culture of hockey that is so deeply...hateful."
Former left-wing Youngman shared similar sentiments about the apparent culture of hockey, "It's not that it inherently means or everyone is purposefully prejudiced, you know? It's just so deeply ingrained in the culture that it slips into everyone who is involved—even me. I'm not going to sit here and pretend that I never said or did hateful, homophobic shit in my life. Call me a hypocrite or something, but it's just how you exist in hockey."
The culture of hockey is hard to get a good analytic grasp of, even with first-hand accounts. However, from discussions with multiple players, it is easy to see that hockey culture is just a magnified version of the larger culture and society in which it exists. It takes society's expectations and premonitions about masculinity, including how masculinity and sexuality interact, and creates strict, unspoken rules of conduct. Like many other sports and other areas where hegemonic masculinity is strongly enforced, homophobic images, metaphors, and phrases are used to divide the weak and bad from the strong and good. Talking with teammates usually dissolves into talking about women in more objectifying ways. Male bodies are held to God-like standards, just like every straight woman's dream.
"I don't want to say that I always feel like I stick out because of my sexuality," Klicker slowly drew out as he tried to organize not only his thoughts but his feelings too, "Because there are a lot of moments that I feel like I fit in perfect. But there are times, like when I hear a teammate call an opponent a sissy or when someone talks about the girl he was with recently. Those are the moments I feel uncomfortable. Like I'm invading their sacred, straight, hegemonic space, you know?"
"And my teammates have always been, like, overly aware that I'm different, so they blatantly try almost too hard not to offend me," Lindahl extrapolates, "And I appreciate it. I'm incredibly grateful that they're trying to include me and make sure I feel comfortable. But they shouldn't have to go beyond what seems natural to them to make me feel included if that makes any sense. I want to be included naturally. Not by force."
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Shutout
Teen FictionLogan Klicker, a backup goaltender in the NHL, is traded teams shortly after coming out as a rare gay professional athlete. Alone in a new city, in a new team, and trying to navigate being out, he meets his blunt neighbor, Kane Jenkins. Kane Jenkins...
