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“You and I both know that you check guys out in the locker room. Because we live in a society where we’re always comparing our body image to that of others.

Is his six-pack more pronounced than mine?

Are his thigh muscles thicker? Biceps bigger?

Is my cock the biggest in the room? It better not be the smallest!

That’s the world we live in. The first one to deny it is the one hiding something, even if what they’re hiding is a denial to themselves, first and foremost.”

There’s obviously some unspoken agenda here because they like my slightly heated rant. I can’t stop myself from continuing, though, even if I’m playing into their hand—whatever it may be.

“I will also point out that you should be aware of your teammates’ bodies because you might be their saving grace if they’re in an abusive relationship that they’ve been trying to hide.

If they’re being bullied or abused. We all know what hockey bruises look like and where we’re likely to get them.

Which means we’ll also recognize a bruise that doesn’t belong there.

You might be a lifeline. Obviously, I’m not suggesting that you stare outright and use that as an excuse.

I’m saying that being aware of those around you can mean saving someone’s life. ”

That clearly sobered them. Their smiles fall away as they look at each other with far more consideration and concern than had been there.

I turn back to the trail and begin hiking again. Silence follows me for several minutes, and the only thing I hear is their footsteps behind me and the natural sounds of the environment surrounding us.

“Told you no one would care if you’re gay,” someone says.

“Shut up.”

Ah. I see.

“In reality, you’re going to run into bigots everywhere,” I tell them without stopping this time.

“Again, that’s just the world we live in.

But in my experience, the NHL is removed from the world in many ways.

Look at the records in recent years. Not only have more and more out players been making headlines, good and bad?—”

Snorts behind me make me smile.

“But they’ve also broken some huge records. Scored some major victories. Made some remarkable plays and won many prestigious awards. They’re some of the top picks and highest paid, not because of their sexuality, but because they are the best in the league.”

“Max Latham took the big W at the All-Stars Games two years in a row,” Alexei says. “I hear he’s up for the Ted Lindsay Award alongside Noah Kain this year.”

“I think you should have that award,” Kareem says. “You carried Chicago.”

I laugh. “I didn’t, but thanks.”

“You know, I get it that the guys want to retire when they start families, but I always wished I could play with Elixon Kipler. He used to yell at his team constantly like they were toddlers when he was in San Jose. It was like watching a completely different player once he got to Edmonton,” Dom says.

“He finally got a team that could keep up with him.”

“There are still some greats playing,” Alexei says. “Azure, for starters. Max is still going strong. Hugo Bladen.”

“I’m a little irritated that Anaheim has turned into such a nasty team,” Kareem says.

“Only since Coach Adak Nemaczekk left. Maybe there’s hope for them to turn around in the future,” Dom says.

I listen to them continue to talk about current players in the NHL, as well as some who retired in recent years. There’s mention about headlines—good and bad—by all players, and speculation about why some are blown up bigger than they needed to be.

Speculation, of course, that circled around their sexuality being a factor.

The kids spoke a lot about sexuality, and at first, it was frustrating. The fact it keeps coming up when I know that a person’s sexuality has nothing to do with literally anything else about them, including their athletic ability.

But as I listen, I realize something very important. These kids don’t talk about sexuality as if it’s taboo to be anything other than straight. They talk about it comfortably. They tease about it as any teenage boys do when talking about hookups and playful pissing contests.

This generation right here might be the change we need in the world. The fears that some have are placed there by older generations. By the media. By agendas of government and religious organizations who have sticks up their asses.

But this generation is ready for a change. They’re loud and they’re ready to fight. The guys asking about gay guys in the locker room weren’t asking for themselves. They were asking for their friends. Friends they were determined to protect and support.

Listening to them gives me chills, and even though I don’t know these kids, I can’t help but be so incredibly proud of them. They’re going to do great things. Even if that great thing isn’t hockey, they’re going to do some amazing things in the world. I’m confident.

So confident that I make sure to take down all their names and promise that I’m going to keep up with their careers wherever they take them. There’s hope in the world, and it starts right here.

When I get into my car, this conversation leaves me encouraged enough and feeling brave, so I dial my mother. My heart races and while I mean to put the car into drive, my hands shake so I don’t move.

“Hey, baby.”

“Hi, Mama. What’s up?”

“Just cooking. How’d your hike go?”

I smile, loving that she remembers details like this. “Went great. That’s uh, why I’m calling.”

“Oh? You know I don’t want to hike, child.”

Laughing, I shake my head. “No, no. We were having a conversation and there’s something I’ve been a little nervous about telling you. Talking to them gave me the push I needed though, so… I’ve been seeing someone.”

“Have you? Why in the world are you nervous to tell me about that? When are you bringing her home?”

I sigh. “That’s the thing, Mama. His name is Arush.”

My words meet silence. “Oh. His name.” Another pause has me nearly hyperventilating. “Well, okay then. When are you bringing him home?”

My breath comes out so forcefully that there are tears in my eyes. My words feel a little choked up. “I don’t know yet. This summer, I hope.”

“That sounds good. I’m looking forward to meeting him.”

“Mama?”

“Yeah, baby?”

“Pops? Gran and Gramps? Are they going to…?” I can’t finish the words and catch my breath at the same time.

“Love your young man? Yes. Baby, God says we do not judge, and while some people choose to believe He said that man judges for God, that isn’t what the Holy Bible says. We will love your young man, son.”

I close my eyes. “He’s Indian,” I say. “I met him online.”

“Okay. How does he like his grits—savory or sweet?”

I let my head fall back and smile in relief. “So far, he prefers them sweet.”

“He’s already my favorite of all your past partners.”

I laugh, and for the next several minutes, I tell my Mama about Arush.