As a Black parent, one thing I never saw coming was having a child who wanted to play hockey.
Mainly because – if I’m honest – I sort of hate hockey.
Yeah, I usually keep this to myself. As a Black Canadian I am often in a lot of spaces with folks that don’t look like me so my distain for our “national pastime” might be frowned upon. But that’s why I created this space, so I can say stuff like this.
I said what I said.
Even my son didn’t like hockey at first. We had put him on the ice when he was 2 or 3 and he had simply refused to skate. Then, after trying every sport we could think of – gymnastics, swimming, diving, karate and basketball, he asked to play hockey.
Really? Ok. Fine.
Suddenly we were all in. And, to my dismay, this child loved hockey.
He loved it in a really pure child-like way and is sincerely in it for the fun. When returning to the ice between shutdowns, he would glide across the surface like he was home. He told us several times he feels “alive again!” when he gets on the ice.
Rooting for our kids together built unexpected bonds.
I feel fortunate that hockey warmly welcomed my son and his reluctant family of cheerleaders.
His entrance into the sport was through the First Shift training program. It was filled with volunteers truly invested in fostering a love for the game in kids. As well, his first house league coach couldn’t have been more suited to leading kids. Patient and funny, he expressed genuine joy watching kids on the team learn and get better each week.
We keep in touch with families we see at the rink season after season. In many ways hockey peeps do feel like a family.
I mean, sure this is the married in family that doesn’t know their chicken is dry and shows up to January family gatherings in inappropriately timed summer wear – but they are family nonetheless.
Rooting for our kids together built unexpected bonds.
Still, when we mention he plays hockey to our Black friends and family some warily shake their heads. The chorus of “Ohhhh I would never let my son play hockey” is a recurring refrain.
Yeah, I never thought I would be here either, my judgmental friends, but here we are.
I mean I do understand the hesitance. Hockey certainly doesn’t have a reputation of being safe for Black folks.
Just a few weeks ago, a friend confided that her pre-teen son’s hockey team was embroiled in controversy. A player was called out by his teammates for using racial slurs on their social media chat. The team’s coach wanted to bench the offender but the player’s parents were team sponsors. Money talks and the local minor hockey league overruled the coach and allowed the kid to play on.
Even fame and status can’t spare Black players.
The problems only get bigger as the players do.
Hockey PEI was criticized for taking their sweet time to investigate an incident and determine whether a player hurling racist abuse at a Black player warranted any consequences.
In another incident, the league handed out a 2-game suspension to a player behind a racist attack. However, this was overshadowed by the indefinite suspension they gave to another player who had criticized the 2 game suspension calling it an “absolutely disgraceful” slap on the wrist.
And even fame and status can’t spare Black players.
Early in 2022, brothers PK and Jordan Subban were thrust into the spotlight when a player made a racist gesture towards Jordan on ice. Superstar NHLer PK came to his brother’s defence demanding better of hockey. If there is Black Canadian hockey royalty, arguably the Subban brothers are it. It doesn’t say much for the game that this status doesn’t protect even them from being subject to racist attacks.
I’m painfully aware that should my son be the target of a racist attack. It seems like from house league to the NHL, the overwhelmingly monochromatic hockey leagues are haphazard at best when it comes to dealing with incidents.
It certainly didn’t escape my notice that the NHL was the only professional sports league to continue to play while others went dark in support of Black Lives Matter at the peak of 2020’s social justice movement. Not cool folks.
The swirling controversies around the game rightfully give me pause. Despite commercials and ads and slogans, it used to infuriate me when PK or other Black players defended hockey. It just didn’t seem like this game always had our back.
In hockey, as in life, sometimes love seems to demand we risk safety to make our own space in the game.
As a parent of a player, we have had talks with my son about the problems he hears about in the game. We can only hope we have equipped him to raise any concerns to us should they arise.
So then where does this leave a Black hockey mom? The same place as always it seems — perpetually on guard. Like the defenseman who hovers the line waiting for his opponent trying to cross. (FYI, I have no idea if that’s that even a thing).
I did do some research and found some organizations that are dedicated to holding space for Black children to play hockey. These groups work to help all equity-seeking kids safely enjoy organized sports.
Parenting while Black often means getting our children ready for spaces that are not ready for them. This is especially hard when your child’s love of something runs contrary to your instincts.
In hockey, as in most parts of life, sometimes love seems to demand we risk safety to make our own space in the game.
While hockey doesn’t always seem to love us, as long as my child loves the game, I have limited choices. I could force him into a sport he enjoys less. Maybe I could wait it out until hockey is ready for him. Or, knowing what it is to Parent while Black, I can let him play on all the while keeping a watchful eye on his experiences.
So armed with hot tea and my trusty blanket and I roll up to the rink. After using fingers of steel to lace up skates I sit in the ice-cold stands praying to the rink gods that someone knows how to turn on the damn heaters.
