Last summer, I made a decision on a whim — after a year on The Michigan Daily men’s hockey beat, I wanted to cover the 2024 NHL Draft. I applied for the credential, got approved and suddenly, I was on a plane from my hometown of Portland, Ore., to Las Vegas.
The Michigan hockey team had a few commits hoping to get drafted to NHL teams, and I was there to write about it for The Daily while exposing myself to the world of sports journalism outside of college. Once I arrived on the Las Vegas Strip, I embarked on a 30-minute journey in the sweltering heat wearing a pinstripe suit to the Wynn Hotel to pick up my credential.
As I walked into the hotel, I saw a casino to my right. To my left, there were just men. Grown men in suits, standing in cliques around the hotel lobby, donning their credentials.
I walked to find my own credential, and I could feel their stares turn away from each other and toward me. I was clearly lost, unsure of where to get my credential — the physical proof that I was supposed to be there. No one offered to help me. I didn’t want them to help me, though. I hadn’t gotten to where I was, a 21-year-old woman at the NHL Draft, by asking for help.
After a few minutes of wandering, I found the credential desk. I put my credential over my head and walked confidently past the men and their cliques, making my way to the Sphere.
But the cliques in the lobby were nothing compared to the giant blob of men I was met with once I arrived at the Sphere. I got asked if I was lost by staff — despite wearing a suit in 110-degree weather — and was met with glares.
I knew I was in the right place. I knew that I was meant to be there. But I had never felt more out of place in my life.
Those moments at the NHL Draft were new for me. Within my two years on The Daily’s ice hockey beat, four of the six writers I worked with were women. The first season I covered, all four of us were women. Sure, we had gotten the stares and the snarky comments before, but now, I was experiencing them on my own. And once I entered the media room, I looked around to find other women. But in a room with hundreds of people, I could count on my hands the number of female writers I saw.
These comments and the glares are tangible examples of why we need more women covering men’s sports.
I had every right to be at the Draft as the men around me, yet I felt uncomfortable. I wished I had the female reporters that I’d found solace in the entire season prior by my side. And these moments are why there needs to be more of us.
There has been an increase in the number of women in the room when it comes to social media and broadcasting. However, women in print media covering men’s sports are few and far between. Because of their gender, women are often pigeonholed into covering women’s sports. This isn’t to say women can’t cover women’s sports — they absolutely should, if that is what they want to do.
But we shouldn’t have to be confined. The glares and the comments I’ve gotten are ones that every woman covering men’s sports has gotten, too. Women are multifaceted and don’t need to just cover women’s sports because they’re women themselves.
In seeing other women in Las Vegas, unafraid to ask questions or interrupt the men to make sure their voices are heard, I realized that I deserved to be there as much as the other reporters. At each press conference I went to, interviewing drafted Michigan commits, I ensured my face wasn’t in the background; instead, it was one they could see clearly. I stood firm in the front and didn’t let the men shove me out of the way. And at the end, a few male reporters turned to me and shook my hand.
I shouldn’t have had to silently stand up for myself to gain respect, but it was a small step to both me feeling more comfortable and them recognizing me as a valid journalist.
Over the last two years of covering Michigan hockey, the bonds I’ve cultivated with my female beatmates have been built on our shared experiences as women covering men’s sports. But some of those experiences aren’t just with my beatmates. They’re with the Michigan hockey social media team, female beat writers from other schools and women in professional journalism. They’re the reason I shed a tear as I said goodbye to Kristy McNeil, the Director of Hockey communications, at the last midweek availability.
Having women write about men’s sports — and know what they are talking about — holds value. It holds value for men to recognize the biases they have against female journalists, whether that’s players, coaches or male journalists. But more importantly, it holds value for other women.
Because one day, there will be a student journalist on her way to cover an NHL Draft. But hopefully, by then, she won’t feel out of place. Instead, she’ll know she’s right where she’s supposed to be.
