Changing Lines: A Monumental Step Forward

This was written by Sophie, one of our student interns. The opinions expressed herein do not reflect those of Civitas other than respect for the value of open dialogue.

I really didn’t expect to be crying in my car before work today.

Truly, I did not have an 8:52 am cry scheduled. I was early to work, waiting in the parking lot for a socially acceptable time to walk into the office, bored, and decided to open Twitter and see what was happening. Little did I know that the first tweet I would see would be Luke Prokop’s coming out statement.

Reading it once didn’t click. Then I read it again. Then I was crying.

Prokop is the first out North-American professional hockey player. He has yet to attend a pro camp, yet to play his first NHL or AHL game, but he has a signed a contract with the Nashville Predators, the team that drafted him in the third round of the 2020 draft.

Only 19 years old, Prokop wrote “I hope that in sharing who I am I can help other people see that gay people are welcome in the hockey community, as we work to make sure that hockey is truly for everyone.”

In his interview with Pierre LeBrun for The Athletic, Prokop says he decided to come out because, “I don’t want to have to walk into the gym or to the arena or just to practice, and keep thinking, ‘Who knows? Who doesn’t?’ This is who I am.”

Brave.

That’s the only word that can describe his actions because the NHL and hockey are not for everyone, not yet. Prokop is staking his career on making it better, deciding that being openly gay and able to express himself will not hurt his career. Because it shouldn’t.

But even Prokop admits that he has heard things in the locker room that are anti-LGBTQ+. In the same Athletic article, he was quoted as saying, “I believe hockey has a long way to go still in that sense [homophobic comments made in the locker room]. There’s some change to be made. And hopefully I can start some of it.’’

In retrospect, I probably should have known that reading that statement would be emotional. That that first round of tears wouldn’t be the last I would shed as I read the article and sent all my friends the link to Prokop’s statement.

My roommate facetimed me to check in as we were both walking in to our respective works and I was crying again, unable to put into words what Luke Prokop’s coming out meant. I had known for all of 6 minutes, I hadn’t processed yet, hadn’t gotten over the monumental moment it was.

It would, of course, only take another ten minutes for me to get worried about the comments directed at him, on the ice or off it. I still refuse to read the comments under anything to do with his coming out, too afraid of the homophobia I might see. But most of today has been overwhelming, completely distracting, joy.

Last year, I wrote a piece on performative allyship in the NHL and how I would take performative. I figured I would never see a gay NHL player in my lifetime (a bit dramatic maybe, but I am a Blues fan) and that the Blues simply having a pride logo for the month of June would be enough.

I wrote that whole piece as if I was straight and the league should be doing this performance for a hypothetical gay 12-year-old. Now, I’m writing this for myself as explicitly bi. I’m talking about how much Luke Prokop coming out as a gay man in the National Hockey League means to me as a queer woman.

The performance is over. That old article means nothing because it’s time for the NHL to become accepting of gay players, because Luke Prokop will play. He will be a professional hockey player. All the corporate sponsorship deals with homophobic companies like Chick-fil-a, the pride nights that teams try to shove under the rug, all of that will have to change. Teams are going to have to take meaningful actions towards supporting LGBTQ+ individuals because Luke Prokop is here, he’s gay, and he’s part of your team.

Today Luke Prokop quieted my own fears about my place in hockey, speaking to things I have told no one—not my parents, not my roommates despite their constant support, not my best-friends who have known me through all stages of this journey.

Teaching myself hockey has been an uphill battle. With no coach you have to constantly second guess yourself on whether you’re learning the right things, doing the right moves, utilizing the right stretching and conditioning workouts. I’ve spent hours trying to google a move without knowing the name of a move. I’ve written out lists and lists of drills because half of them you can’t do on rollerblades because there are no edges. It’s been, mentally, one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.

And on top of all that, on top of simply learning to play, I’ve worried about finding a team to play on. Would I hear homophobic comments in the locker room or on the ice? Should I just find a queer team and play with them? Would there even be a place for me in hockey? Maybe I should just keep everything quiet, I don’t have to tell my (still hypothetical) teammates. It can just always be a secret.

Every time I hear from credible sources that x hockey player at my college says the f slur, it makes me question if that’s the kind of culture I want to go into. Not that women’s hockey is the same as men’s hockey. The NWHL has plenty of gay players, including married players.

But the NWHL has several players that partner and engage with Barstool, a well-documented racist, homophobic, and sexist enterprise. As does the NHL, including the Nashville Predators who invited Barstool to one of their playoff games.

There’s a lot of growth left to be done. A lot of conversations that have to start and end and start again. A lot of long hard looks and alienating homophobic sponsors and fans who refuse to be educated and grow and change. It’s not going to be easy and it will inevitably be frustrating and nothing will move fast enough or slow enough to make anyone happy.

Monumental change has already happened though. Luke Prokop is out and proud and nothing can change that.

So, yeah, I cried in my car and the hallway at work because this is a big deal and I am overjoyed but also terrified for Luke Prokop and his future. But history has been made by a 19-year-old who just wants to be himself.

And you can’t take that back.