In 2020, I became the first male professional athlete in the world to come out as bi while still playing. But my road to get there was a little bumpy.
From a fairly young age, I knew I was attracted to both women and men. When I was 12, I recall vacationing in New York City with my English family, and seeing The Little Mermaid on Broadway. I was transfixed by the character Sebastian — or rather, the actor who played him. I asked my younger sister to remind me when he came back on stage because he’s really good-looking. Those moments of openly expressing same-sex attraction were rare. As a teen, I never really felt comfortable expressing my bisexuality and kind of shoved it down. There was a rumour that went around in high school that I was gay, which didn’t help, and made me reflexively want to conceal my bisexuality even more.
Ice hockey was — and still is — my life. I turned semi-pro at 16, and a coach from a higher-level UK league scouted me and asked if I’d like to move up. After a few successful years playing with the Slough Jets and Basingstoke Bison, I was able to advance again into the Elite Ice Hockey League (EIHL), the top professional league in the UK. Things were looking up, but as the years passed, something wasn’t quite right.
Hiding my bisexuality hadn’t affected my hockey for such a long time — until it did.
When I was 25, well into my pro career, my housemates and I watched a documentary about Aaron Hernandez, the infamously troubled American football star who was convicted of murder and then killed himself in prison. It was harrowing to watch, not least because I saw a little of myself in Hernandez, a bi pro athlete who struggled with and hid his bisexuality, which seems to have contributed to his instability. Of course, I never thought for a second that I would ever do what Hernandez did, but I realised that self-repression is a dark path, one I didn’t want to be on. As it happened, the EIHL’s Pride Weekend was just a few weeks away. It was perfect timing.
I came out first to a few close friends, former teammates Josh Grieveson and Tyson Fawcett, and current teammate (and my captain) Cameron Critchlow. They were 100% supportive. I came out to the world on Twitter prior to the EIHL Pride events. Josh helped me craft the coming-out tweet, in fact, and Tyson accompanied me to many of my subsequent interviews for moral support. I was lucky to be surrounded by so many good human beings.
Coming out couldn’t have gone better. My close-knit family fully accepted me at once. My friends were wonderful as well, and it turns out one of my best friends is bi too. We each came out to one another, which was pretty amazing! The person I was most worried to tell was my coach at the time, but he turned out to be my biggest supporter, and encouraged me to become a more vocal advocate for LGBT inclusivity.
I’d come out just before a huge rivalry game with Sheffield, and Coach took me aside and said, “You know you’re going to be doing a lot of interviews, right?” That’s when the impact of my decision really set in. We went out, played the game, and the next day, the BBC wanted to do three interviews with me, and requests from a number of other media outlets and publications began rolling in. My private life has never been quite private ever since. I’ve become a sort of ambassador for bi men in sports. I’ve been on every platform there is — I even took over the NHL’s Instagram stories one year. It hasn’t changed how I live, but it’s given me a wonderful opportunity to help make the world a little bit kinder and more welcoming.
I’ve encountered two instances of homophobic abuse while playing, one from a player, one from a fan. There’s been countless smaller incidents of casual homophobia or biphobia — guys in locker rooms using “gay” as a synonym for being cowardly or lacking toughness. Most of the time, people say this stuff without even thinking. When I ask, “So gay people aren’t as tough?”, the other person immediately realises what they said was wrong. Once I’ve had those conversations, and guys have that moment of realisation, they bring it with them to other teams and wherever they go in life. There’s definitely a macho culture in male sports, and especially North American sports. It’s something that has to be pushed back on. That’s the silver lining of these attitudes, I guess: they become teachable moments.
I’m coming up on my 14th year of professional hockey as a defenceman for the Manchester Storm, and life is good. I think it’s important not just to be comfortable with who you are, but also confident. More than just acknowledging a truth about yourself, having some pride really makes a difference. Having truly decent people around you is also a huge help. The peer groups we choose play a big role. I’m not sure I’ve quite reached that self-help ideal of “loving myself”, but I can say for certain that I like myself. I’ll take that.