“We’ll do the White House…we’ll just have some fun, we have medals for you guys. And we have to, I must tell you, we’re going to have to bring the women’s team, you do know that? I do believe I probably would be impeached.”
That’s what United States President Donald Trump said in a phone call to the freshly minted, gold medal-winning US men’s hockey team.
“We have to bring the women’s team.”
It’s a slap in the face to women everywhere, not just the actual team itself. It’s a slap in the face to the team, their coaches, their fans, and the country.
To the men in that room and the man on the other end of the line, honoring the women wasn’t a matter of earned merit; it was just a nuisance to be tolerated.
This brings us to a harsh reality: Two teams went to Milan, played the same game, and brought home the same gold. They represent one flag and one nation. Yet, the way they are spoken of, provided for, and respected reveals two completely different Americas. One where greatness celebrated as a birthright, and another where it is treated as a secondary obligation.
The Statline
At these Olympics alone, women dominated. Out of 33 total US medals, women athletes brought home 6 gold and 17 total. That’s in comparison to the men’s 4 gold and 12 total medals, as well as 2 gold and 4 total medals from mixed-gender events.
It’s been this way for a while now. Back in 2024, women athletes won 65% of the US’s total medals. At the last Winter Olympics, women in the US won 13 out of 25 total medals.
In hockey alone, women have far surpassed the achievements of the men’s team. Despite only being inducted as an Olympic sport in 1998, the women’s team has medaled at every single Olympics to date. The team has won gold in 2026, 2018, and 1998; silver in 2022, 2014, 2010, and 2002; and bronze in 2006.
Women’s US hockey has won 7 of the 8 medals in the 21st century alone — a stark contrast to the men, who have only won 3 of their 12 medals this century. Both teams have a total of 3 gold medals each, while the men have 8 total silvers and 1 bronze.
It’s important to note for the last 2 Winter Olympics, the NHL has barred its players from participating. While some point to the NHL’s absence in 2018 and 2022 as a reason for the men’s recent drought, this defense ignores the foundation of American hockey history. The argument the men can only succeed with a professional roster is a disservice to the amateurs who built the program’s legacy. After all, the legendary “Miracle on Ice” in 1980 and the 1960 gold medal were won by college kids and unsalaried players who outworked the world. Long before the NHL era began in 1998, the U.S. men were a powerhouse of consistency, securing medals in 1920, 1924, 1932, 1936, 1952, 1956, and 1972.
At these Olympics, it was clear that US hockey was dominant. How could they not be if both teams are gold medalists? However, at least to me, it’s pretty clear who is more dominant in their division.
On the men’s side, the team breezed through round-robin play with a 3–0 record, each win by at least 3 goals. Still, it wasn’t flawless: none were shutouts, and the game against Denmark was tight early. The U.S. didn’t take the lead until late in the second period, then finally blew it open for a 6–3 win. In the playoffs, 2 of the U.S.’s 3 games went to overtime, both 2–1 wins. This was the first time the U.S. men went undefeated since 1960 (counting 1980’s tie vs. Sweden). They outscored opponents 26–9.
On the women’s side, it was a different story. After a 5–1 opening win over Czechia, they went on a five-game shutout streak heading into the gold medal match. In four of those games, the U.S. scored 5 goals; the fifth was a 6–0 victory. It was the women’s first undefeated run since the tournament began, outscoring opponents 33–2.
Both teams broke multiple records. For the women, Hilary Knight scored her 15th career Olympic goal and 33rd point, setting U.S. women’s records for both. She also became the first American hockey player, male or female, to compete in five Winter Olympics. Most remarkable of all, the women set a new shutout record, breaking the 1924 U.S. men’s 245-minute streak by finishing with 352 minutes and 17 seconds. Goaltender Aerin Frankel also set the women’s record for most shutouts in a single Olympics with three.
For the men, the headline was the end of their gold medal drought exactly 46 years after the Miracle on Ice. Quinn Hughes set a single-tournament record for assists by an American defenseman in an NHL-participating Olympics with seven, became the first American to record a six-game point streak in an NHL Olympics, and the first defenseman to score an overtime goal in a knockout game in that context. Jack Hughes became the second American to record multiple game-winning goals in a single NHL-participating Olympic tournament. Goaltender Connor Hellebuyck posted a .956 save percentage, among the highest ever for a gold-medal-winning Olympic goalie. This was also the men’s first knockout-stage win over Canada in the NHL era.
When we talk about the Men’s records, we have to use footnotes like ‘in the NHL era’ or ‘since 1980.’ But when we talk about women, we don’t need footnotes. Hilary Knight isn’t just the best recently; she’s just the all-time leader. The women aren’t just breaking records for this decade—they are breaking records for the history of the sport. Yet, despite being the undisputed ‘Gold Standard,’ they’re being treated as the ‘impeachable’ afterthought.
Critics often dismiss the women’s dominance by claiming the men’s division is “harder” due to more competitive parity, but this argument ignores a century of context. The perceived “parity” in the men’s game is simply the byproduct of a hundred-year head start, during which dozens of nations poured billions of dollars into professional leagues, scouting, and youth academies for men only. When the U.S. Women outscore their opponents 33—2, it’s simply a sign they have professionalized their preparation at a level the rest of the world is only just beginning to permit.
You don’t punish the valedictorian for being smarter than the class; you recognize they have set a standard others haven’t reached yet. If the competition were truly “weak,” the thirty-year rivalry between the U.S. and Canada wouldn’t be the most intense, high-level matchup in the sport, played at a technical speed that rivals the men’s game.
The reality of 2026 starkly contrasts with consistent excellence and a desperate struggle for success. While teams like Czechia and Switzerland are finally closing the gap thanks to overdue investment, the U.S. Women are operating at a historical peak, making world-class athletes look ordinary.
Meanwhile, the men’s team, even with the full force of their NHL superstars, struggled to maintain a lead, failing to secure a single shutout in the round-robin and being pushed to the brink in multiple overtime games. The men needed their “Miracle” anniversary and a roster of multi-millionaires to finally break a 46-year drought; the women, conversely, have forced the entire world to play catch-up to even have a shot at being on their level. To say they only won because it was “easy” is nothing more than a lazy excuse to avoid admitting the U.S. Women are the most efficient winning machine in the history of American team sports.
The Institutional Gatekeeping
The annoying thing? The IOC believes these claims, too. Despite the history of the US and Canada hockey rivalry, the IOC dubbed the women’s gold medal match as “not high demand.” This meant the game had limited press box access for media, labelling the seats as “first-come, first-serve.”
I also don’t see it as a coincidence that the US men played every single game at the Milano Santaguilia Ice Hockey Arena, the far better rink with a max seating of around 16,000. In comparison, almost half of the US women’s games were played at the 6,500 capacity Milano Rho Ice Hockey Arena, which had been in way worse condition than the main arena for the majority of the games. In total, 6 men’s games and 19 women’s games were played at the Rho arena. The use of the Rho Arena was claimed to be for preliminary games. So tell me why the US vs Italy women’s quarterfinals were hosted at Rho while the Canada vs Switzerland men’s prelims were held at Santaguilia? It doesn’t make any sense.
The women’s gold medal match wasn’t even on the main NBC broadcast. Most of their games weren’t anyway; they were either on Peacock or the USA Network, except for the semi-final vs Sweden. At least the NBC broadcast was showcasing women’s figure skating, which, obviously, is one of the marquee events of the Winter Games. Despite being pushed to the USA Network and Peacock, the women still garnered a record 5.3 million viewers, the most viewers of any women’s hockey game in history. My problem is just the fact that the women were constantly pushed to the sideline and into the shadows, while I had the men’s team force-fed to me every hour of the Olympic Games
On the topic of having the men’s coverage suffocate every other narrative, it’s important to talk about how the Tkachuk brothers were literally getting interviewed in the middle of the women’s semi-final game. Not during a break, not during intermission. Right in the middle of the game.
The questions weren’t even about the women’s game; they were about men’s hockey and the brothers themselves. And as soon as the commentators asked the brothers about what they’ve learned from watching women’s hockey, they conveniently didn’t hear the question.
The more interesting tidbits the commentators could talk about would be, for example, pay disparities between the PWHL and NHL. That’s what German broadcasts were highlighting during gameplay.
They could talk more about Laila Edwards being the first US black woman ever on an Olympic roster or how she’s the second overall black player in US Olympic history.
They could talk about all the records the athletes are breaking this Olympic cycle, or highlight specific athletes and their own achievements.
Take Kendall Coyne Schofield, for example. She’s won the Walter Cup two times, been a commentator for the Sharks, helped build the PWHL from the ground up, and played in the last Olympics while actively pregnant. But the commentators chose to talk about her husband, who won the Super Bowl over a decade ago.
It is a persistent, frustrating reminder that no matter how many records these women break or how much history they make, people would still rather talk about the men in their lives than the gold around their necks.
Hockey and Its Culture of Denigration
This is coming at a time when hockey remains so far behind other pro leagues when it comes to diversity and inclusivity. The marginalization of minorities in hockey is a deeply rooted issue, a conversation so layered and pervasive that I could personally speak for hours on its implications alone.
But you don’t even have to look at the systemic level to see the gatekeeping in action; you just have to listen to the way the men’s stars talk about the women who pay for tickets and cheer in the stands.
In a late 2025 appearance on the “Wingmen with Matthew and Brady Tkachuk” podcast, Matthew Tkachuk went out of his way to criticize how “girls” engage with the sport.
He said, and I quote, “Nothing worse than when girls call a player by their nickname. That’s fucking weird to me.”
So, consider this my absolute apology, Matthew Brendan Tkachuk, for even daring to say a player’s nickname. I’m sorry an 8-year-old me with a speech impediment couldn’t pronounce David Pastrňák correctly. I’ve only been watching the Bruins forever, so it’s my fault I assumed I could even dare to call my franchise player Pasta, a sole part of his brand identity as a player. Sorry for not saying Quintin Jerome Hughes earlier.
It is baffling that with all the actual problems in hockey culture, Matthew Tkachuk chose to spend his platform — and his limited interest in female fans — policing nicknames. If he so badly wanted to call out women for “weird” behavior, where was this energy for the actual, persistent issues like the “BookTok” controversy?
Since 2023, there has been a documented problem with a subset of fans who treat real-life players like fictional characters, crossing lines into harassment and predatory behavior toward players like Alex Wennberg and his family. That is a conversation worth having. That is a boundary worth defending.
But instead of addressing sexual harassment or the fetishization of athletes, Tkachuk aimed at the 8-year-old with a speech impediment who calls David Pastrňák “Pasta” because she can’t pronounce his last name yet. He aimed at the lifelong fans who use a player’s own brand identity to feel a connection to their team.
It exposes a lazy, gendered double standard: if a man calls him “Chucky,” it’s just part of the game. But if a woman says it, it’s “fucking weird.” By choosing to punch down at the most innocent form of fandom rather than the actual toxic elements of the sport, he proves his goal wasn’t to “protect” hockey—it was to gatekeep it. It is a calculated move to remind women no matter how much they know, or how long they’ve watched, they will never belong in the “boys’ club.”
When I watched the Tkachuk brothers during the women’s semi-final match, I wondered why the Hughes brothers weren’t getting interviewed. The two of them are by far more popular than the Tkachuks, who became famous in the first place thanks to their dad. The Hughes brothers have a much wider audience than the Tkachuks, both geographically and demographically. And, more importantly, they actually have a connection to women’s hockey.
The person responsible for developing much of the talent on that ice is Ellen Hughes, a 1992 World Championship silver medalist and the Player Development Consultant for the women’s team. Her sons, Jack and Quinn, are direct beneficiaries of the elite hockey culture and world-class training she helped build.
Yet, while the Tkachuk brothers were given a platform to talk about themselves over the women’s gameplay, the woman who actually built the bridge between these two gold-medal teams was left in the shadows.
Then, to my dismay, I had to watch that infamous video I mentioned in the beginning. It wasn’t just the Tkachuks leading the charge; it was the Hughes brothers, too. Seeing Jack and Quinn leaning in, laughing, and participating in a moment that reduced the women’s program to a punchline was a profound betrayal of the very legacy their mother represents.
It’s a gut punch to realize even the players who were raised by the pioneers of the women’s game aren’t immune to the toxicity of the “boys’ club.” Jack and Quinn Hughes have spent their lives watching their mother break barriers, yet in the moment it mattered most—the moment they could have stood up for their peers—they chose the easy laugh instead. They proved that no matter how much starpower you have, the culture remains stagnant if you’re willing to sacrifice the respect of your female counterparts for a bit of locker room levity.
And Jack played it for the cameras, too. When asked what was going through his mind when he scored the game-winning goal, he said he thought about Megan Keller scoring the OT goal for the US women.
It was a perfect soundbite — performative, calculated, and, in light of the locker room footage, deeply hollow. By invoking Megan Keller’s name, he co-opted the women’s hard-fought victory to polish his own image for the press, acting the part of the supportive “ally” while the cameras were rolling. It’s a masterclass in the very brand of superficial support that plagues the sport: using women’s achievements as a convenient prop for a PR moment, only to turn around and treat those same women as the butt of a joke once the locker room door is closed.
To publicly claim inspiration from Keller and then privately snicker at the suggestion that her team deserves the same White House honors is the height of hypocrisy. To me, at least, it’s worse than the Tkachuks. That’s what they are made out to be by the media — misogynistic, self-obsessed, and brash. That’s their brand. But not Jack. He represents the new age of hockey — an age of hope, hard work, and civility. Not boozing around in a locker room, bowing down to a President who actively goes out of his way to demean your Olympic counterparts.
It’s the ultimate “mask off” moment for the NHL’s golden boy. We’re told this new generation is different, that they’re more inclusive and aware, but the video tells a story of a boy who knows exactly which script to read when the mic is live and which one to follow when the “boys” are watching. Jack didn’t just fail to stand up for the women; he actively chose to bask in the proximity of power while they were being dragged. He watched the most dominant athletes in the country get demeaned and decided joining the laughter was more important than honoring the women — and the mother — who made his own career possible.
It’s a slap in the face that becomes even more evident when you look at how the world chose to “celebrate” these two wins. When the men clinched their gold, my feed was an absolute wall of “Miracle on Ice 2.0.” Every sports brand, every casual fan, and every major outlet was tripping over themselves to post the same grainy clip of Jack Hughes’ overtime winner.
But when the women won their gold just days prior, the silence was deafening. I barely saw anything from my mutuals about their win, albeit some from a few female hockey players, women’s sports commentators, and official accounts.
In kind of a rebellion, my posts on Sunday went as follows. Three graphics related to the women’s team: Laila Edwards, Megan Keller, and the Gold medal graphic. Then, finally, a picture of Jack Hughes with an American flag.
Even as I posted that final picture, I felt the weight of the irony. I was contributing to the very algorithm that buries the women, but I did it because, like so many fans, I wanted to believe in the “New Era.” I wanted to believe the face of the men’s team was someone who actually respected the game as a whole.
But let’s be honest: that “rebellion” was a joke.
The Impact
We’ve reached a point where the women are so consistently excellent that their greatness has become boring to a casual audience, while the men are treated like returning war heroes for finally doing what the women have been doing for decades.
This “social media silence” is just another symptom of the same rot. We treat men’s success as a national triumph and women’s success as a footnote. We’ll repost a video of Kash Patel chugging beer with “the boys” ten thousand times, but we can’t be bothered to share a clip of Hilary Knight breaking the all-time Olympic scoring record. It’s a persistent reminder that in the eyes of the digital masses, the men’s overtime win is a “Miracle,” but the women’s dominant gold-medal run is just an average Tuesday.
How are little girls supposed to see themselves as champions when the President of the United States jokes their very invitation to the White House is an “impeachable” burden? When the stars of the men’s game — the same ones they have posters of on their bedroom walls — sit in a locker room and laugh along? It’s a gut-wrenching question because the answer is so obvious: they aren’t supposed to see themselves that way. They are being told, loudly and clearly, that their gold medals are less shiny and their records are less important. We are raising a generation of girls to believe that no matter how much they dominate, they will always be the punchline to a joke told by men who couldn’t even keep a clean sheet in the round-robin.
Think about the sheer weight of that influence. Imagine if Taylor Swift stood on a stage and told young girls to never become a singer because artists like Harry Styles and The Weeknd will always be better. Imagine if Shohei Ohtani told a crowd of young Japanese boys they shouldn’t even bother with baseball because players like Aaron Judge and Juan Soto will always be better. The world would stop spinning; the backlash would be nuclear. We expect icons of that stature to protect the dreams of the kids who look up to them.
What does it say about our culture when we allow our most visible figures to gatekeep excellence? When we let them dictate who belongs in the “inner circle” of American greatness? It says we value the comfort of a misogynistic status quo more than the actual achievements of our most successful athletes. We are giving the loudest microphones to the people who want to keep the door shut, while the women who actually won—undefeated and undisputed—are left to wonder why their own country’s “heroes” are the ones leading the bullying.
Ultimately, the women’s team declined the President’s passive-aggressive invitation to the White House. They chose to walk away from a ceremony that had been framed as a “burden” before it even began. They realized no amount of gold around their necks would buy them the respect they had already earned ten times over from a room full of men who viewed their presence as an obligation.
They didn’t decline because they aren’t patriotic. That’s what everybody on my feed has been claiming. But that’s simply not the truth. They declined because they won Gold for a country that — at its highest levels — refused to see them as anything other than an “impeachable” obligation. They spent their entire Olympic cycle proving they were the best in the world, only to be told by their own President and their male peers that their success was a “chore” to be managed. Their decision is more patriotic than anything.
So, let the men have their beer, their government-funded private jets, and their special calls. Let them keep their “Miracle” narrative and their gatekept nicknames. The women have something far more enduring. They have a legacy that doesn’t require a footnote. They have a standard of excellence that doesn’t need a “new era” PR filter. By walking away, they proved you can’t “allow” someone to be a champion when they already own the podium. They didn’t just bring home the gold — they brought home the truth: being the “Gold Standard” means knowing when the room isn’t worthy of you.
And that is exactly what we should be teaching our young female athletes.
