Six years ago, my partner and I moved to Madison from Des Moines, Iowa. It was February, 2020, and the company I work for had transferred me to Madison. Three weeks later, the city shut down due to the COVID-19 pandemic. We knew no one, in an entirely new state, and couldn’t go anywhere. The grand adventure we were anticipating had gone sideways quickly. I was lamenting to one of my co-workers about how hard the move had been, and how hard it had become to make friends when the world shut down. She casually suggested playing hockey with the Madison Gay Hockey Association. Her partner played with the league for a couple of years and had really enjoyed the sport but also the community that came together around the game. I pocketed the idea, thinking it could be something someday, but like so many other hobbies I’ve been mildly interested in, it just floated into the depths of my subconscious and remained, waiting. 

Fast forward to November, 2024 (maybe you know where this is going). I found myself just starting to dig out of the socially desolate landscape of adult life, exploring new places and experiences with my partner and our dog, feeling human again, excitement around us, and then, once more, under the umbrella of a hostile Trump Administration. I knew I couldn’t go back to the way I felt during the first term in 2016, and I would not look back. I decided now was the time to explore the idea of playing hockey with the MGHA. I needed a group of like-minded people who were open to discovering community through sport. I had no idea what I was about to get into, but I was ready to make the jump.

In the spring of 2025 I applied, and I got a call mid-summer from a recruiter with the league. He was available to answer my questions, and I had already figured out an excuse not to play. As a kid, I quit every sport I joined. When things got hard, I dipped out fast. That curse was coming back to haunt me. I told the recruiter that I had actually signed up to play scrimmages with a group at the beginning of the summer, and that I had gotten my ass handed to me, and hockey probably wasn’t a good idea because as it turns out, I had the desire but not the passion for the sport. Chuck assured me, however, that if I did still want to play, MGHA was the place for me. He said I was brave for jumping into scrimmages and he certainly understood my concerns, but there is a lot of intention that goes into building the teams. Before those summer scrimmages, I had connected with Mason, who handles the gear that the league provides to those new to the sport, so I again had no real reason not to join. Gear? Check. Team? Check. 

Out of excuses, I skated onto the ice for evaluations. Everyone has a spot on the team here, this is just a way to make sure teams are built intentionally with all skill levels. I saw people like me on the ice. As a trans person, it was hard to imagine myself on a team, especially in today’s environment. (In my youth, this was certainly another factor that kept me clear of sports in general.) USA Hockey has followed the Trump Administration’s guidance to try and write us out of existence. Joke’s on them. I had never been surrounded by a queer community like this, and it was everything I could ever have asked for. People here just wanted to help me, whether that meant getting the gear I needed, doling out advice on how to be better on the ice, meeting up at rinks for open skills or getting lunch to talk strategy. I was starting to understand what it felt like to be truly involved in a community, in a meaningful way. 

Teams were set, and the future was Teal (Team Teal, that is). As our team came together on the night of Team Reveal, the rink was abuzz. I was meeting the people I would be spending the next 6 months with, playing games almost every Sunday, learning what playing hockey and being part of a team was all about. Those were some of the best six months of my late 30’s. There were moments that were terrifying, don’t get me wrong. I hadn’t committed to playing a sport ever, let alone one that was played on the ice—meaning not only did I have to learn a new sport and the rules that went along with it, I had to know how to skate, too. I had skated a couple of times as a kid, and had played street hockey in front of my house as an eight-year-old, but that was the extent of my sports experience as it related to the MGHA. In the end, though, I made it. I didn’t quit. I stayed and played the whole season. My stats were phenomenal! I didn’t make one goal. I didn’t even get an assist, although my partner swears I got at least two. No penalties this season, either. I’ve never been more proud of my final stats, those three zeros that read after my name in the team lineup. And I have fallen in love with hockey, but even moreso, the community that comes together around this sport.

I came to know community in ways I couldn’t ever have asked for. The league allows you to discover different facets of yourself, and if you’re willing to take a jump into the unknown, you never know what you’ll find. In February, the league holds its annual fundraiser for the MGHA Classic Tournament at the end of April, and they ask for volunteer performers for the drag show. I waited a few days, hoping they wouldn’t need any more volunteers, before responding to the email. Turns out they definitely still needed performers, so I was gifted a Mentor, and I found myself getting painted in the back room of FIVE Nightclub a few weeks later. I had so many people—not only my team, but my co-workers—who came out in force to show their support for me; I was blown away by this chosen family. 

The season ended a month later. I had finished watching Heated Rivalry, and the Olympics had just wrapped up. I had no idea how sad I would be that all things hockey, and the season, had come to an end. I had shown up for my team, and for myself. Being a part of this community inspired me to give back, too. I plan on becoming a member this year, and hopefully a board member in the future, and co-captained a team in the April tournament. This league shows you the good that’s out there, and how could I not want to be a part of that and give back? Watching community blossom around me took some effort on my part, but I’m so glad to have found this league. To me, the MGHA means hockey AND community, all wrapped up in one sweet package.