Originally posted 2023-06-23 14:48:40.

Pride Interrupted: NHL’s Reversal on Themed Jerseys Sparks Backlash Over Visibility

In a move that has many questioning its commitment to inclusivity, the NHL recently announced it will no longer allow teams to wear themed warmup jerseys, including those for Pride Nights. The decision, which the league attributes to concerns over these events becoming a “distraction,” has ignited backlash from advocates and fans alike. Chief among the voices of dissent is You Can Play, a key partner in the NHL’s inclusivity efforts for over a decade. The organization, which champions the inclusion of 2SLGBTQIA+ individuals in sports, expressed its deep disappointment at what it sees as a step back from genuine support and visibility.

The Jerseys Were Never Just About the Game

Themed jerseys have long been more than just colorful pre-game gear; they’ve served as visible commitments to the NHL’s ongoing efforts to make hockey a more welcoming space. The Pride-themed warmup jerseys were tangible symbols of allyship, ones that said to queer fans, “You belong here too.” And in a sport that has a deeply entrenched culture of machismo, this symbolism carried weight.

You Can Play, which has worked with the NHL for over a decade, made it clear in their statement that such jerseys were crucial in elevating visibility, acceptance, and belonging for queer fans and players. With these gone, the league risks undoing years of incremental progress in the eyes of those who saw the gesture as more than just an accessory to the game.

Where’s the Line Between “Distraction” and Genuine Inclusion?

The NHL’s justification hinges on maintaining focus on the game and redirecting attention to the charitable causes tied to specialty nights. However, critics are quick to point out the flaw in this logic: the idea that acts of solidarity and charity should be compartmentalized and stripped of visible acknowledgment seems counterproductive. After all, it wasn’t just about the game—it was about what the game represented to those on the outside looking in.

Commissioner Gary Bettman emphasized that the NHL would continue to auction off specialty jerseys for charity, with Pride Nights still part of the calendar. Yet, this feels like missing the point. As one fan tweeted, “It’s like saying you’re gonna have a birthday party but not allow anyone to sing happy birthday.”

Distraction or Controversy: Who Gets to Choose?

The change comes after a turbulent season, where players opting out of wearing Pride jerseys drew widespread attention. When Flyers defenseman Ivan Provorov cited religious beliefs for abstaining, it sparked not just debates but a domino effect of further abstentions and team decisions to forgo Pride jerseys altogether. While Bettman and other league officials may not say it outright, it’s not hard to connect the dots: the jerseys were creating controversy, and rather than confront it head-on, the league chose to sidestep the issue.

The Provorov incident was a clarifying moment for hockey fans and activists. It exposed not only rifts within the NHL’s ranks but also how fragile symbolic gestures can be in the face of vocal dissent. As more players echoed similar sentiments, and with some teams (such as the Minnesota Wild, New York Rangers, and Chicago Blackhawks) opting out entirely, the decision to cancel the jerseys seems, in part, like a strategic retreat.

Symbolism Matters—But Actions Matter More

While the league insists that this decision doesn’t equate to an abandonment of its 2SLGBTQ+ outreach, the community’s response suggests otherwise. Allies and advocates see it as a dangerous precedent: one where the discomfort of a few outweighs the need for visible, affirming gestures toward many. In a sports culture that has struggled with inclusivity, the jerseys weren’t just fabric—they were declarations.

It’s like saying you’re gonna have a birthday party but not allow anyone to sing happy birthday.”

Even if specialty nights continue, the removal of themed jerseys sends a quieter, less affirming message to the community that has worked hard to feel represented in this traditionally insular sport. It’s telling that You Can Play’s statement emphasized the need for Pride to be more than a “once-a-year” event, highlighting the ongoing and purposeful nature of building inclusive spaces.

“We Can Do Both”

In the aftermath of this decision, the conversation has moved beyond jerseys to something bigger: the ongoing work of fostering an inclusive sports environment. This isn’t just about the NHL’s optics; it’s about the broader message it sends to other leagues and institutions.

Advocates argue that it’s not an either/or situation—either game focus or inclusivity—but that both can coexist and reinforce each other. Instead of viewing the jerseys as distractions, the league could have used this moment to challenge discomfort and deepen the narrative around Pride Nights. Rather than retract, it could have leaned into the discomfort and asked why this visibility was causing backlash in the first place.

By eliminating the jerseys, the NHL risks cementing the narrative that visibility is negotiable, and that inclusion comes with caveats. For a league that has made strides in LGBTQ+ visibility, this choice feels like a step in the wrong direction, one that may take years to undo in the eyes of queer fans and their allies.

For those who’ve spent years working to make the sport more welcoming, this is more than a minor policy change—it’s a statement about whose comfort the league values most.

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