
While the PWHL is currently in the process of enhancing their safe sport policies, it opens the door for the league to set a new standard, or to fall into issues that pervade the hockey world.
A concoction of pride, butterflies, and hopefulness took over the hockey world during the inaugural season of the PWHL.
We watched in awe when the league reached 2.9 million viewers in its opening game. We felt the energy when fans shattered attendance records in women's hockey—on six separate occasions. And, to close off this fantastic season, we witnessed PWHL Minnesota hoist the Walter Cup for the very first time.
A new standard for women's sports was set.
Yet just a week after winning the league, the reigning champions fell into controversy, with allegations of toxic work environments and bullying dominating headlines in July.
As fans, we were left in the dark about the specifics, but as a former U Sports women’s hockey player myself, the news served as a splash of cold water in the face— a reminder that this league, like any other, is not immune to the harsh realities of competitive sports.
I've gone through the system— the provincial camps, the showcases, the 16-hour road trips. High-level sport is intense, it's thrilling, and it's demanding.
I am also aware that the system itself needs to be kept in check.
Concerns about abuse, toxicity, harassment, and bullying are real, common, and pervasive.
High-level athletic environments are particularly vulnerable to these issues—something I've seen firsthand. That's why I'm determined to find out what mechanisms the PWHL has in place to ensure a safe environment for its players and staff.
Safe sports mechanisms are designed to protect athletes from abuse, harassment, and discrimination within a sports environment. These mechanisms are more than just policies—they're proactive steps that ensure everyone, from players to staff, has access to a safe, supportive, and accountable environment.
Clear codes of conduct, comprehensive policies, mandatory background checks, and accessible reporting systems are just some ways that safe sports mechanisms can help deter the potential for misconduct.
So why do they matter?
Well, when safe sport mechanisms are clear and available, they can make a big difference in the lives of athletes. I know they would have for me.
Hockey was and always will be a major part of my life, as it is for so many others. It gave me some of my closest friends, taught me the value of hard work, and ignited my competitive edge. But it was also an environment in which I lived three provinces away from my hometown by the time I was 17.
I've played alongside athletes from all over Canada, the US, and Europe. Some didn't speak English well, and many of us didn't have family nearby. All of us placed immense amounts of our trust in the institutions we played for.
At a point in my hockey career, I lost my love for the game. I felt demoralized and hopeless in my situation. I was playing in an environment where I hesitated to speak up about things I knew were wrong. I didn't know who to talk to. I didn't feel like I had the right to say something.
I wasn't the “goal scorer,” or the captain. Who was I to speak up?
Like many players, I avoided discussing my mental health. There were times when I didn't stand up for teammates when I should have and times when I didn't stand up for myself. I was afraid—afraid of looking weak, being seen as ungrateful, risking my spot in the lineup, and even losing my community.
I didn't know a life without hockey. I didn't want to lose everything I had worked so hard for.
I wish I had known how common my experience was or that there was a difference between complaining and calling out abusive behaviour.
I wish my teammates, and I had been taught what it truly meant to play in a safe environment. And yes, I wish there had been clear, approachable mechanisms to help me find my voice.
I decided to reach out to the PWHL to learn more about their safe sport policies. Paul Krotz, the head of PWHL Communications, stated over the phone that they are in the process of enhancing their policies and that an updated system is set to come out in November.
Until then, he said the league is not ready to discuss its current mechanisms publicly.
While waiting for these policies to roll out, I turned to the publicly available information listed in the PWHL's Collective Bargaining Agreement (CBA) to help me better understand what is currently in place for these players.
The CBA provided a broad outline of safe sport mechanisms, such as players' rights to file grievances, appeal disciplinary actions, and seek a second medical opinion. However, as expected with bargaining agreements, the document stops short of offering detailed processes or specifying how athletes are protected in their work environment.
The lack of clarity in the document's provisions led me to think about my own experiences when I faced similarly vague policies while trying to understand my rights as a player. There was a time I wanted to report unacceptable behaviour but couldn’t find who to report to. Another instance comes to mind where I deleted an email draft detailing my concerns to someone high up in my team's institution—out of fear of having my name associated with it. I remember the sense of defeat, confusion and loneliness that came with these attempts. So, I went back to normalizing an environment I knew wasn't normal.
Safe sport mechanisms shouldn't consist of abstract policies in place to check a box. They should be clear, accessible, proactive safeguards that protect athletes and staff from abuse, harassment, and discrimination.
That's what led me to forming this list of questions I have for the PWHL —questions I wish I had asked when I was a player.
How does the PWHL ensure that its athletes and staff know about the safe sport resources and procedures that are in place?
These questions matter. They matter because young players are doing the same road trips, showcases, and provincial camps that I did, with the same love of the game.
But there's a difference now. Today, they can close their eyes and imagine hearing their names called during the PWHL draft. They can picture themselves playing in front of 20,000 fans, and they can watch their idols compete, not just every four years at the Olympics but in a real, thriving league—a league that prides itself on treating the best players in the world as the professional athletes they are.
I retired from university hockey one year before the PWHL came into existence. Now, I watch as a fan. But for so many out there, this league is more than just a fun Friday night out—it's the platform that sets the standard. It's the place little girls dream of being.
Going into its second year, I want the PWHL to know we are watching. I want them to know what an amazing opportunity they have, to lead by example once again— in ways hockey historically hasn't.
I want them to show young players everywhere that having a safe place to play matters. That they should never feel they have to be complicit, or "grateful," when things aren't great.
What will the PWHL's new safe sport policy look like? What considerations will they make? Will their policies prioritize mechanisms that account for the nuances of sport?
Come November, will they choose to lead?