Dexter Lane

Team: The Abominable Snowpeeps

My earliest memory of hockey is from elementary school. I came home from school and told my father that I quit soccer so I could play hockey instead. He told me absolutely not and signed me up for girl scouts. I grew up playing soccer from then on. I played many other sports through the years, but soccer was always my constant. I was engaged in sports year-round until my junior year of high school. Shortly after I graduated high school in 2009, I got sick, and after months of tests, procedures, and surgeries, I was finally able to come back home. I was given a prescription for Percocet, and I flew through them. This really opened the door for my addiction, and for the next several years I used a variety of drugs daily.

It’s fair to say that I have very little recollection of a large portion of 2015. I was living in Madison, and I woke up on the top of a parking ramp in West Virginia with almost no memory of how I got there. I came home and overdosed for the final time, less than a week later. After being taken to the emergency department and receiving Narcan, I spent the next three days in the hospital. I have almost no memory of my time at the hospital. What I do remember is the doctors telling me that if I would have gone home and gone to sleep, I would not have woken up. Within weeks I found a treatment center in the area that felt right for me, and I dove in. I made my recovery my full-time job.

I had many obstacles to overcome, but something that always seemed to pull me down was boredom. I had received emails from Patrick Farabaugh asking if I was interested in playing hockey.  With a lot of hesitation and fear, I made the jump. I laced up skates for the first time just days before the evaluations. I walked into that building not knowing a single person. I specifically remember Leah Rudin watching me try to tie my skates. When I looked up, she gave me a smile and said, “Can I show you a trick?” I use that same trick to this day. When I started hobbling to the ice, Christina Libs said, “You’ll need one of these.” as she tossed me one of her old jerseys with an “A” on it. She said, “Look at that, you are already an assistant captain.”  As my skate gilded onto the ice for the first time, I grasped tightly to the boards. I must have looked up with a face of pure panic because Molly Costello looked at me and said, “Hey, you got this.”  That first day on skates was one of the first solid memories I have after I found sobriety.

My first year of hockey wasn’t pretty, on or off the ice. On the ice, I was not the best skater. I had a tough time with the rules and was extremely quiet. Off the ice, I was dealing with a lot of anger. The first year of sobriety is hard for anyone, and another one of my biggest struggles was anger. I had spent the last five years numb and was finally starting to feel everything I had been suppressing. Looking back on the first year or two of hockey, admittedly, it was not the best reflection of who I wanted to be.

The entire first year of hockey, most people did not know I identified as a transman. I was not a very social human, and outside of Rainbow Kate, I really didn’t connect with anyone in the MGHA right away. It wasn’t until the beginning of the second year that I came out as a transman in all aspects of my life. The MGHA was the newest community I was a part of, but it instantly made me feel the most welcome when it came to how I was going to identify. It was the first space I was a part of where someone asked me and respected my pronouns.

When I reflect on where I started my journey versus where I am, I can’t thank hockey and the MGHA enough. Hockey gave me a place to go when just that was all I needed. MGHA was the first place I was able to feel completely like myself. It was the first place I could comfortably walk in a space and say, “My name is Dex, my pronouns are he/him/his, and I’m in recovery.” Those were two huge parts of my identity that I was hiding in different areas of my life. I was never made to feel uncomfortable for being in recovery, nor did I ever feel left out. I was still always invited out after games. Connection was difficult for me for many years, and if I’m being honest, it wasn’t until the last several years that I really started to open up and make deeper connections at MGHA. I feel that last year has been the best reflection of the true me. I feel more involved, have more patience, and have made so many meaningful connections. To quote Johann Hari, “The opposite of addiction is not sobriety. The opposite of addiction is connection.”  I came here angry, alone, and closed off. Hockey and the MGHA family have helped me find that connection was possible for me and gave me something to feel passionate about.

“It’s not about just about being LGBTQ+, it’s not just about hockey, it’s about creating a place that’s safe for all.”

It was a warm August day in 2013 when I sat down with MGHA Founder, Patrick Farabaugh. I spoke to him of my concerns and fears for joining such a physically demanding and typically non-accepting sport. My concerns also consisted of how affirming and safe the locker rooms were for a trans man such as myself.  As someone who grew up in band, drama, and other non-athletic activities; I didn’t consider myself athletic to say the least. Although our talk had me convinced to sign up, I was not prepared for all the MGHA would become for me. I had grown up with many hardships including physical and mental disabilities, being low income, and never really feeling like I belonged anywhere.  As the last 7 years have passed I have grown both on and off the ice. I have not only found an amazingly fun and challenging sport to play, but I have found a pack of my own, with a place I belong.

As a transgender man with physical and mental disabilities, even being out can compromise my safety.  I choose to do so because I want to make the world a more affirming place. I grew up being afraid and ashamed of everything that makes me who I am.  I have worn many hats in life and my absolute favorite is my MGHA hockey player one! I tell everyone how much the league means to me. I live and breathe the MGHA motto which also aligns with my motto for life.  I wear an MGHA shirt almost every day. This is a place where all walks of life are truly welcome and if you’re unable to afford the fees there’s help. If you need a ride, someone will help you. If you need someone to talk to, there will be someone there to listen.  I have been personally involved with helping make the league a more accepting and affirming place not only for trans men and women, but also our gender non-conforming/non-binary members. I have watched these numbers grow every year. I never could have dreamed of not only playing hockey, but with so many folks like and unlike myself.  We have folks who are CEO’s, nurses, doctors and regular joes like myself. We have folx who have been playing since they were small children to those such as myself who learned to play right there with the MGHA and continue to welcome all skills and ability levels.

Speaking of ability levels, I hadn’t even played on a sports team (other than gym class) let alone on a highly action packed game such as hockey.  I was not only welcomed, but encouraged every step of the skate. Each time I fell and got back up my fellow league mates would cheer. In fact, you might hear of a move called the “Alpha Tornado”, created by yours truly. insert a wink here Throughout these years I have learned to stop, skate backwards, and even gotten pretty darn good at maneuvering my body.  This season I even got to try something new. I got to be a goalie! Goodness gracious is that hard, but a blast!!! It has shown me that underneath, I was an athlete all along and it is a good thing.  Being an athlete isn’t so much a skill level as an attitude. It’s never giving up even when all the odds are against you. It’s getting back up each and every time you fall. It’s helping your team be the best it can be.

Helping others is something I have always been good at and I had no idea how much that skill would assist in finding my place as a leader.  I have been honored with the chance to be a mentor, a team captain, and a teammate with an understanding ear. My teammates have always made me feel welcome and a valued member of the team and been there to lend an ear when I needed one.  I have been told by multiple people that I personally have helped them not only want to continue playing hockey, but continue living and/or growing as a human. I can not express enough how important places like this are for the queer community nor can I ever show enough gratitude for those who allow me to be apart of this amazing league.

Without the MGHA, there would be no Alpha.  Without the becoming Alpha, I wouldn’t have wanted to continue living either.  I know that I am far from alone in my feelings of isolation, internal struggles, or self loathing/guilt, but having a place like the league allows folks like me a place to come together to have a good time while creating lasting bonds.  It gives those of us without a place of community a place to belong. It’s not about just about being LGBTQ+, it’s not just about hockey, it’s about creating a place that’s safe for all. A safe place for me to be me and that’s what gay hockey means to me.

Gay. Hockey.  

What an incredible concept. 

I first heard of the league a couple of years ago from a friend, but never gave it much thought.  

For one: I did not identify as gay – I was a cis, closeted bi-guy.  

For another: I couldn’t skate.  So, while I thought the league sounded great, I never considered playing.

Life has a way of sneaking up on you and smacking you in the back of the head, though.  Roughly a year ago, that’s exactly what happened to me.  

After struggling for many, many years, I’d come to the conclusion that I am a trans woman.  

There were so many feelings that flooded over me as a result of this.  Basically, life as I had known it was over. I was starting anew and it turned out to be a major upheaval that brought an untold number of changes.

The idea of hockey and MGHA was brought up at an Employee Resource Group meeting at work.  One of the members of the ERG also happened a member of MGHA, and she was recruiting people for the league (Thanks, Randi!).  

I thought about it and decided: Why not?  A new life calls for doing new things. I applied to play in May of 2019 and then I waited.  I received word that I was accepted into the league and got all excited.

Then, the nerves hit. How I would get myself on skates and actually do hockey?  

Between getting on the ice and being in a very LGBTQIA+ space for the first time, my stomach was churning with butterflies that very first day in September.  But I hadn’t needed to worry – I was accepted instantly for both who I am and how I skate. There was never, for one moment, a doubt that I belonged.

To me, that’s what the MGHA means: Belonging.  I’m so fortunate to have met such an amazing group of people, whether that be my fellow first year players, my teammates, or anyone else in the league.  I have never felt out of place or that I did not belong there.  

The experiences that I’ve had with the MGHA hav given me confidence in many areas of my new life and living my life the “MGHA way” has been very fulfilling.  I try to look at things with the sense of joy and wonder that I feel when I’m on the ice skating with Black Mirror.  

What could have been a very scary and uncertain first year of transition has been eased knowing that I have a family of about 200 amazing individuals who love me and support me for who I am.  

The MGHA has been instrumental in my first year of transition.  I would not be the person am I currently – or the person I’m on the road to becoming – without this group.  Thank you.

“I have a world of support within arm’s reach.”

2019 was a weird year for me. After nearly five years of marriage and nearly twelve years together, my husband asked for a divorce. It was good timing at least, as I’d just started to work again after being off of full-time work for nearly three years due to health issues. I’d been seeing multiple physical therapists for three years in order to be able to walk safely.

Earlier in the year, I had been diagnosed with a hypermobility syndrome. Truth be told, that’s not the first diagnosis I’ve picked up. The growing laundry list of afflictions in my life has made it hard to move, see, breathe, and think at different times. I grew up with Systemic Juvenile Idiopathic Arthritis, something that can be fatal as it attacks organs and joints alike. I got sick when I was five and it’s really the only life I’ve known. I was never an athlete or honestly good at balancing. Honestly, I’d fall standing up many days. 

That brings me back to 2019. In the middle of dealing with all of this upheaval, I leaned hard on the connections I made via social media. One of the people who got me interested in hockey – specifically, the person who spurred me to go to a 2014 Women’s Badgers NCAA tournament game – shared the NHL video made about the MGHA. I ruminated on how cool it would be to learn how to play hockey like Cole, Rigsby, Pankowski, Clark, Nurse, and Roque. I let the idea pass towards the back of my mind, focusing on the important things like finding my own apartment, etc. I thought that idea would let me be.

Boy, was I wrong! The notion of playing hockey kept rattling around my brain. Within a few weeks, I brought up the idea with my physical therapist who overwhelmingly agreed I was ready for that type of physical activity. She gave me a ton of exercises to work on that were tailored to becoming a better skater. Once I signed up, I definitely started to think about all the ridiculousness I had gotten myself into. Anyone who knows me knows I’m not the epitome of grace.

My first day on the ice was… hard. I was able to be upright for maybe a total of five minutes out of an hour. My mentor and the other coaches hung out with and encouraged me to keep going. At the end of the practice, I walked to my car incredibly sore and sweaty. For the first time in my life, though, I did something sporty. I didn’t do it well or for most of the allotted time, but I did it.

I couldn’t wait to get back out on the ice next week!

At my second practice, I definitely got injured. I fell in a back-leaning butterfly and tore part of my meniscus. For the first time in my life, I asked at urgent care if I could play the next week. The answer was a resounding no, but I was able to start strength training again after a few days. 

Despite being off the ice for just a week, I had numerous people reach out and check on me. When I came back, I was greeted warmly by the other newbies and coaches alike. The support propelled me to push myself harder, both on and off the ice. 

I decided to take up the position of goalie, something I’d always admired but was sure I would suck at. Instead, my hypermobility helped me excel. I went from being someone who never did a sport to embracing one of the most difficult positions in one of the most ridiculous sports out there. It took a while to get the hang of getting all those pads on, but I know there’s nowhere else I’d rather be than squatting in goal behind my team. 

To be a part of a team and have people to rely on at all feels weird. When I was growing up, I didn’t really have friends. As a matter of fact, I was heavily isolated in an abusive family. Closeness isn’t something I’ve ever had, at least not in a healthy way. Since joining the league, I began to allow myself to connect with others instead of putting up walls. It became easy to share all the difficulties I was going through with my health, relationships, and life in general.

The amount of growth I’ve been able to go through physically, emotionally, and mentally by joining the league is something I can’t measure. My sister says that I sound happier than I ever have, and she’s not wrong.

When I started using a different name and different set of pronouns, my friends and teammates didn’t even flinch. When I started testosterone, my trans brothers checked in on me to see how I was doing and gave me the 411 on what to expect. When my disabilities affect my ability to play, I get encouraging comments instead of ones filled with ableism or frustration. Hell, a few people have emergency medical information for me in case something goes wrong.

As I write this, I’m preparing to go to divorce court with my ex-husband. I can’t lie and say that I’m not nervous – I absolutely am. I know it’s going to be a rough day and that it’ll open up healed wounds. Thankfully, I have a lot of support within the MGHA. From advice from divorced players to check-ins from teammates, I have a world of support within arm’s reach.

When someone asks me what the MGHA means to me, it’s hard to sum up in a short sentence. It means many things – progress, a workout, flipping off my disabilities… I think the most important pieces for me, though, are support and acceptance.