My daughter is learning how to ice skate and play hockey much earlier than I did.
As a young fan growing up on the South Side of Chicago, playing hockey was an option not accessible to me until later on in life. I actually didn’t even start to play the game until I was in my late thirties.
I exposed my daughter to the game in any way I could by watching hockey on TV, having a goal and sticks at home, and bringing her to my games. She was in attendance when I scored my first goal but probably doesn’t remember that since she was so young. Introducing her to hockey is truly one of the honors of my life.
Thanks to my experiences, connections, and advocacy, my daughter’s hockey experiences are happening sooner than later.
I consider that a parenting win.
As a parent, you want to give your children every opportunity to excel and succeed. Fortunately, as a child, I was exposed to a lot of things that some of my peers never experienced. I want the same for my daughter.
But as she spends more time in hockey spaces, the need to find a way to talk about race is at the front of my mind.
I need to get in front of this before someone else does.
Over time, I’ve seen parents of color, mainly Black, steer clear from hockey due to racist behavior from opponents, parents, and, in some cases, teammates. We saw it last March at a youth hockey league in the DMV area. We witnessed with the WHL’s Seattle Thunderbirds kicking two players off their team for racially abusing a teammate.
Like any other Black parent, I’m trying to prepare my kid for a world where, unfortunately, someone will single her out solely based on her appearance and skin color.
In recent news, we’ve seen conservative media describe Kenosha shooter Kyle Rittenhouse, 17, as a child and be the recipient of donations from right-wing TV actors and police officers. Meanwhile, Chicago teen Adam Toledo, 13, who was shot and killed by a Chicago police officer, is pilloried as the problem with people in marginalized communities.
Racism isn’t exclusive hockey, though. In the aftermath of last summer’s social unrest, many Black folks are reliving trauma surrounding incidents they experienced in corporate, educational, philanthropic, journalism, and other spaces after seeing their white colleagues discover that microaggressions are just as damaging as overt racism.
A friend, who’s biracial like my daughter, asked me how I see her. I said: ‘What do you mean?’ She shot back: ‘Is she [your daughter] Black with you, and a Latina with her mom?”
Then, I said the quiet part out loud saying: “I know what she is, but America will see her as a Black girl — and that can be comforting, or threatening.”
Hockey, like life, is rigged against Black and Brown children. We see the struggle and fight for equal rights in life, but what is the sport doing to ensure the kids from non-traditional backgrounds can feel comfortable in the sport?
That all depends on who you ask.
In our book “Game Misconduct: Hockey’s Toxic Culture & How to Fix It”, my co-author Jashvina Shah and I discuss the nuances of why hockey excels at performative allyship, but not much else, when it comes to social justice issues.
What do I tell my kid when, historically, the sport may let her down like it has done to so many other kids of color?
I’m not sure what I’ll say, but I’ll tell her something.
All in all, I’m hopeful. I’m also grateful for women like Kings scout Blake Bolden, the only Black woman NHL scout, Metropolitan Riveters defender Saroya Tinker, and Canadian hockey player Sarah Nurse.
My daughter is on the cusp of skating through a path blazed by the aforementioned women. I’d like to believe Bolden had my daughter in mind when she wrote “Be Bold” for the Players’ Tribune.
“Growing up, there wasn’t much representation in hockey for young Black kids,” Bolden wrote. “Now, we’ve turned to a new chapter. A chapter where being your authentic, unique, protective-hairstyle self, is all you need to be.”
At the end of our last time at the rink together, I attempted to help my kid off the ice.
She smacked my hand away and got off the ice all on her own.
Watch out, world.
