“Go back to the kitchen and make me a sandwich,” was the first sentence I heard as I jumped over the boards, the blades on my feet hitting the cold, slippery, ice. I wanted to pause, to process. Then the puck flew by, meaning I had no time to think. A symphony of ice-shaving, grunting, slamming, and shouting filled the rink. This was only one of the many instances men were threatened by my presence in their predominantly male sport.
What comes to mind when thinking of a hockey player? Tall, burly, lacking a little in the brain, with a missing tooth and a smile only a mother could love? What if I told you I’m a staggering 5 feet and 2 inches tall female interested in biology and science with a 4.0 grade point average? Not exactly the thing you would think of. One explanation of this would be the existence of schemas, which are a pattern of thoughts or behaviors that organize information and relationships among them. I don’t fit the schema of the average hockey player, which makes me unorthodox. That might seem like an exaggeration, but the basic definition is someone different than what is generally accepted. Acception was a battle I faced solely for the fact I was a woman.
The look on people’s faces when they find out I am on a men’s team is very unique. It starts with a slight flash of confusion, followed by fake smiles and questions about whether I am respected on the team. I have never understood that question--is it that bizarre that I play hockey? Would that lead to resentment and disrespect from my “brothers”? They were right to question so. My very first team at the age of fourteen, it was like I had the plague. Nobody wanted to talk to me, nobody wanted to partner up with me, nobody wanted to be near me. I was an outlier--unorthodox. They felt I was too feminine, which I didn’t know being feminine as a female was weird. Another opinion, one of a boy I used to like, was that I was “too masculine” because I played hockey. Was I too feminine or too masculine? Was it really that big of a deal if I was either? To this day, I still have not found the answer.
Aside from the fact that I have two x chromosomes, there’s another part of me that seems contradictory, which include my love for biology and science. This does not seem to fit into the schemas of the “brutal”, “dumb”, and “single-minded” jocks that the sport has birthed--which is not true. My father is a fantastic example of this, being that he played hockey in college. But he was more than that--he was a student at the Missouri University of Science and Technology, ranked third for “best public university for career placement”. He was very successful within his field of engineering, proving others wrong. Proving others wrong has been a goal of mine since I’ve set my mind on this beautiful sport.
To add on, there’s a secret people don’t know--I use hockey as an outlet for my stress. I have struggled with depression and anxiety since I was young and discovered profound difficulty finding coping mechanisms to deal with my emotions. I soon learned that as soon as I laced up my skates, all of my stress dissipated. While others play hockey for a future in the pro leagues, I play to keep my legs moving, in the means of staying active, but also continuing to move in life. This different mindset has opened up criticism from other players, with them thinking I don’t take it seriously enough. Once again, I was regarded as unorthodox, because my mindset wasn’t focused on selfishly keeping the puck or scoring the most goals.
My identity is a mixing pot of contradictions and paradoxes, which is not always ideal, but I’ve grown to love those differences. Athletes can like science, women can play male-dominated sports, hockey players can struggle with mental health--all things I came to realize. It’s okay to be different, just like how it’s okay for my teammates to have different sticks. At the end of the day, despite all the different variations and brands, the sticks have the same purpose. A popular phrase you’ll hear at the rink is “keep your head up,” which means to literally keep your head up (as to watch for oncoming contact from other players), and to keep moving, no matter if you’re winning or losing.
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