Editioral Update: Hi there! Sky from the future here! If you’re seeing this at the top of our website, or clicked on a link from Twitter even though this particular piece was from March of last year, then WordPress has betrayed us! You see, in the move from Vox, some of our content did not make it unscathed, and one of Em’s very best pieces about their experience at Pride Night was swallowed whole. We didn’t care for that, and have since re-uploaded it.
On Monday, March 13, the Seattle Kraken held their second ever pride night game. As part of a larger slate of Hockey Is For Everyone games that the team holds, this night was dedicated to showcasing support of LGBTQ+ community.
The Importance of Pride
For as much as the NHL loves to fall back on that slogan, “Hockey is for Everyone,” the truth of the matter is that these nights are necessary because the sport isn’t there yet, especially within men’s hockey leagues.
Until the day comes that Nashville Predators prospect and current Seattle Thunderbird Luke Prokop makes his NHL debut, there hasn’t been an openly gay player to play a game in the NHL. Youth players who come up through various levels have stated the need to leave the sport because the locker room environment was too casual with its homophobic language. It didn’t matter whether the words were being said directly at a player, it still made those closeted players feel unwelcome.
Now add on what has been happening throughout the league as of late. It all started when Ivan Provorov made the decision to not wear the Philadelphia Flyers’ pride night jersey — the first time the Flyers had ever made the switch to a jersey instead of solely using pride tape on their sticks. He declined to participate due to his stated religious beliefs, but it set off a domino effect. From there, the New York Rangers and Minnesota Wild both pulled back from their stated plans to wear pride jerseys during warmups. Most recently, San Jose Sharks goaltender James Reimer put out a statement that he will decline wearing a pride jersey due to his religious beliefs.
Now, I don’t know exactly what determined the move for the Rangers and Wild to scale back. I don’t know if it was solely an executive decision made from the top or if there were players like Reimer who were ready to follow in Provorov’s steps and not participate, which precipitated those teams to shut the whole use of jerseys down. However, it all started because one player centered himself instead of helping his team show up in a united front.
When you put on a jersey, it stops being solely about you. It becomes the crest of the team you play for. You represent that team, and you represent the fans that have come to watch you play. Choosing not to wear a pride jersey goes against what the team is choosing to stand for for that one night. Teams can put out statements about how they still support the LGBTQ+ community, but when one player breaks away from participating, it makes the list of good things organizations are still doing suddenly feel hollow.
Sadly, it shouldn’t have been surprising that eventually this would happen. Some players are more outspoken about it on their personal platforms than others, but hockey tends to lean more conservative on the whole. When thinking about what allies the hockey world does have, a lot of players admit that their eyes are being opened to these issues for the first time. There’s a high level of privilege in the NHL, with many players being white, straight, cis men. Add to it how highly insular hockey is, and you have a bunch of people who have never needed to look outside of their own world view.
It’s also what lead to a slight hum of worry among some Kraken fans I know leading up to Monday’s pride night game.
Now, the Kraken have never done anything to indicate that this organization would ever try scaling back. After all, this team has committed to being one of the most socially conscious in the league — if not the most. As a recent example, how many teams are willing to use the jersey ad patch option to promote a local Native tribe?
However, just because the organization might be committed to diversity, it doesn’t mean all the players also are. I doubt that when Ron Francis is selecting his draft picks, making free agent signings, and doing trades he is asking potential players, “How do you feel about supporting diversity and inclusion in hockey?” When it comes to his job — creating a hockey team that will be competitive for years to come — these issues are afterthoughts. Roster construction is about how good of a player you are, not whether you’d be willing to come down to Seattle in the offseason to march in a pride parade.
Yet, there’s been one constant thread throughout this locker room this season. The team plays for each other. Multiple players have stated in interviews a commitment that they are all in this together. Even in their choices for who to pass the Davy Jones hat to, it underscores the idea that each player’s contributions are equal. They play as one team, not as individuals.
So, when the voice of Alexa announced to the fans in Climate Pledge Arena that it was time for warmups, that sense of team unity meant every single player skated out wearing the jerseys designed by Simson Chantha. These jerseys, featuring colors from the progress pride flag, show hands interlocked together for a theme of “holding on to each other.” It was a symbol to show everyone’s interconnectedness, regardless of whether you’re a part of the LGBTQ+ community or just an ally. It expressed shared humanity, and just as the Kraken have uplifted each other this whole season, they uplifted those fans who don’t always get to see themselves reflected in this sport.
Does it necessarily mean that each and every Kraken player wearing that jersey is a full-blown ally? Probably not. It just means that for 15 minutes, each player agreed to participate in something that is much larger than themselves. Yet, considering that even crossing that bar seems to be impossible for some teams, this small effort matters.
The Community of the Kraken fanbase
There’s a second, much more personal story to be told about pride night as well. When I received my work bonus in December, there was only one thought that went through my mind: “I’m going to Seattle.”
It worked out almost too perfectly that the best week for me and my friends in the area contained Monday’s pride night game right in the heart of it. After writing about the Kraken since the start of their inaugural season, I was not only going to finally step foot into Climate Pledge Arena, but it would be a night meant to uplift people like me.
See, I’m not only queer, but I’m one of only a handful of nonbinary writers that I know of in the hockey community. When it comes to celebrating the accomplishments of nonbinary people in sport, we often just get lumped into days focusing on women as a sort of “marginalized genders” afterthought. In my day-to-day life, I am often the first nonbinary person someone has met. This often involves possessing infinite patience as people struggle to shift to using “they/them” pronouns for me — if I even feel comfortable enough to use those pronouns. Sometimes it’s better for me to just not say anything at all.
When I arrived at Climate Pledge Arena on Monday night, I went as a fan. I decided to go all out by not only doing my eyeshadow up in a rainbow but creating a sign as well, one with a (poorly) drawn map of the United States to show that I flew all the way from Philadelphia to Seattle for the game.
My sign may have helped as a conversation starter, but there were so many people willing to say hi, ready to chat with me the entire time we waited for warmups to start, and it felt like the easiest thing in the world for me to let my love and passion for the Kraken shine throughout the whole night. It was the friendliest arena experience I’ve ever had. I don’t think it needed to be pride night for me to feel welcomed and accepted wholly for who I am. That’s just how the Kraken fanbase is. Seeing the loud and proud support for the LGBTQ+ community was just the cherry on top.
If there were people in that arena that didn’t support the pride initiatives that night, I never saw or heard them. It truly felt like a safe space that night. Seeing all the fellow fans on the twins who were loud and proud and showing off their colors made me feel like this could one day be the norm. Maybe one day it doesn’t have to be just at a pride night game that people can feel safe to be themselves.
I could almost sum up my whole trip in one little moment. Buoy came down to my end of the arena at warmups to crash the party. He did his usual Buoy shenanigans, headbanging against the glass and such, but what I will always remember is when he saw me, wrapped me up in a big hug, and placed a few kisses on the top of my head. It was honestly the best physical manifestation of how being in Seattle and among the Kraken fanbase felt — a large embrace that said, “I’m so happy you’re here!” That’s what a pride night should be like.
“Hockey is for everyone,” may be a slogan that the NHL as a whole needs to work towards, but the Seattle Kraken feel ahead of the curve. They not only put their best foot forward in supporting pride night with unity, but the fanbase itself was warm and welcoming throughout the night.
If hockey is truly going to be for everyone, this is where it starts.
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