OP-ED: Trump, Women’s Hockey Players, and the Joke That Doesn’t Make Anyone Laugh

"Our achievements must not be overshadowed"

When the players on the U.S. Women’s National Hockey Team chose to respond publicly, they chose their words carefully. “Our accomplishments must not be overshadowed”—this phrasing is not aggressive, it is not vindictive, it is not partisan. It is assertive. It says: we refuse to let the narrative of what happened during this visit overshadow the narrative of what we have accomplished on the ice. It is a strategic as well as an emotional stance. These women have understood something essential: if they let Trump’s joke become the focus of the story, they lose. If they refocus attention on their medals, their journey, and their victory, they win.

This stance requires considerable mental discipline. In the heat of the moment, when faced with humiliation, the instinct is often to retaliate with the same intensity with which one was attacked. These players chose something else: the high ground. They chose not to stoop to the level where Trump is most comfortable—that of provocation, confrontation, and spectacle. They chose their own ground: that of performance, of facts, and of world gold.

It takes extraordinary mental strength to respond to humiliation with dignity. These players did just that. And for that alone, they deserve a standing ovation.

The Weight of the Words Chosen

The phrase “overshadowed” is particularly well chosen. It implies that a light exists—that of their accomplishments—and that someone is trying to cover it up. It also implies that this light is strong enough that it cannot be completely extinguished, only temporarily dimmed. It is a powerful metaphor. It’s also a message to all the young girls who look up to these players, who watch them play, who perhaps also dream of putting on a helmet and holding a hockey stick with the same conviction. The message is: what you accomplish has value. Who you are has value. And no one—not even the President of the United States—can take that away from you.

A Battleground That Goes Beyond Hockey

What happened during that visit to the White House is not an isolated incident. It is part of a long and exhausting pattern that female athletes face in virtually every sport, at every level. The pay gaps between men’s and women’s leagues are well-documented, massive, and persist despite decades of advocacy. According to most recent studies, media coverage of women’s sports still accounts for less than 10% of total sports airtime in the majority of Western countries. The equipment made available to women’s teams is often inferior to that of their male counterparts. Training facilities, travel budgets, coaching staff—all reflect an implicit hierarchy that says, at every level: you are secondary.

And yet. And yet, women keep going. They train twice a day. They push their physical limits. They deal with injuries, personal sacrifices, careers put on hold, and relationships put on hold. They do all this not for recognition that is slow in coming, but because they love their sport with an intensity that nothing can extinguish. That is the true story of American women’s hockey players. That is the true story of women’s sports. A story of unyielding passion in the face of a world that perpetually questions their legitimacy.

Every time a female athlete has to defend her place at the table—not her performance, not her results, but her very place at the table—it’s a collective defeat. Not hers. Ours.

The Numbers Don’t Lie

The U.S. Women’s National Hockey Team is one of the most successful in the history of the sport. It has won Olympic medals and world championships, and has produced some of the most talented players the sport has ever seen. These achievements are no accident. They are the product of rigorous training systems, demanding team cultures, and exceptional individuals who have chosen excellence as a way of life. The fact that these accomplishments must be defended, justified, and brought to a president’s attention during an official visit speaks volumes about the fundamental way our society views female athletes.

This isn’t the first time

that Donald Trump has had a complex—and often contentious—relationship with female athletes in general. His comments on the physical appearance of female athletes, his stances on issues like pay equity in sports, and his reactions to the political stances of athletes like Megan Rapinoe—all of this paints a consistent picture. It’s not a picture that speaks of respect. It’s a picture that speaks of a worldview in which women, even at the top of their sport, are still defined first and foremost by criteria that have nothing to do with their performance.

The joke at the women’s hockey team’s reception is therefore part of a pattern that is not new. What is new, perhaps, is the intensity of the reaction. The players spoke out. The media covered the story. A national conversation took place. And in that conversation, something may have shifted slightly—tolerance for this type of remark, even when disguised as humor, seems to be eroding. It’s not a revolution. But it’s a sign.

You can’t change a culture with a single controversy. But every controversy that forces a public conversation is a building block. These players have laid a solid one.

The Difference Between Humor and Contempt

It’s important to make a distinction here: humor in a formal setting isn’t inherently problematic. Presidents have used humor to build connections, to lighten the mood, and to humanize formal occasions. The question isn’t whether Trump had the right to make a joke. The question is who that joke was intended for—and who it was at the expense of. A joke that makes people laugh at the expense of those we’re supposed to honor isn’t humor. It’s contempt with a punchline. And contempt, no matter how it’s packaged, leaves its mark.

The Uncomfortable Mirror

Trump’s joke is a mirror. An uncomfortable mirror that many would prefer not to look into. Because if we look at it honestly, we see things that go far beyond the person of the U.S. president. We see gyms where women’s teams train with secondhand equipment. We see sports commentators who, even in 2025, describe women athletes’ play with condescending surprise—“for women, they play really well.” We see sponsors who invest ten times less in women’s sports than in men’s sports, not because the results aren’t there, but because the audience isn’t monetized in the same way.

We can choose to look away from this mirror. Or we can choose to look at it and ask ourselves: what are we doing, collectively, to ensure that the next championship team to visit the White House—or any institution—is received with the unconditional respect it deserves? Not respect in principle. Not political respect. True respect: the kind that doesn’t require us to remind others that we deserve it.

If world champions need to publicly demand respect for their achievements, it means we have collectively failed to grant it to them naturally. This realization should deeply trouble us.

The Next Generation

There are thousands of little girls who watched the women’s hockey players during the last World Championships. Little girls whose eyes light up when they see their idols. Children who may have asked their parents to sign them up for a club. These children have also, most likely, heard about what happened at the White House. What they heard—beyond the joke itself—was the players’ response. And that response is, in itself, a priceless life lesson: you can’t control what others make of you. You can control what you make of what they do.

When Sports Enter the Political Arena

Visits by sports teams to the White House have, under several administrations, become a politically charged issue. Some teams have declined the invitation. Individual players have turned it down. Debates have erupted over the appropriateness of mixing sports and politics in this specific context. These debates are legitimate and complex. But what happened with the U.S. women’s hockey team adds another layer: in this case, it wasn’t the team that politicized the meeting. It was the president himself who, through his joke, turned a sporting moment into a political—and gendered—one.

This reality puts the athletes in an impossible position. If they react, they’re “political.” If they don’t react, they’re tacitly endorsing it. There is no clean way out. There is only the difficult choice between speaking up and staying silent. These players chose to speak up—measuredly, with dignity, and with precision. And that choice, regardless of how one interprets it politically, deserves to be recognized for what it is: an act of courage.

Athletes are often asked to “stay out of politics.” But when politics enters their locker room—or the reception hall set aside for them—their silence, too, would be a political act. There is no such thing as neutrality in certain moments.

Implications for Future Visits

This controversy will have consequences. Future women’s teams will wonder whether an invitation to the White House is a celebration or a risk. Sports federations will hold internal discussions on how to handle these situations. Individual players will weigh the pros and cons of accepting an invitation in a context that could put them in an uncomfortable position. This is a direct and tangible consequence of a moment that could have—and should have—been simply a celebration.

A Community That Sticks Together

In the hours following the controversy, voices rose from across the world of women’s sports to support the U.S. women’s hockey team. Athletes from other sports, other countries, and other generations expressed their solidarity. This network of mutual support is one of the most remarkable strengths of contemporary women’s sports. Female athletes have developed—often out of necessity—an ability to support one another that transcends athletic rivalries and national borders. When one of them is attacked—or diminished—the others respond.

This solidarity is also a form of collective resistance. It says: we see one another. We recognize each other’s worth. And this mutual recognition, even if it does not replace institutional or media recognition, is a foundation upon which something lasting can be built. The American women’s hockey players are not alone at this moment. They never have been.

Solidarity among female athletes is one of the most beautiful things sport has produced. It was forged in adversity, in invisibility, in locker rooms where no one was watching. It is real. It is powerful. And it endures.

What the Rest of the Sports World Can Learn

Men’s sports—particularly high-profile professional men’s sports—have often been criticized for their lack of internal solidarity in the face of injustice. Male athletes who could have stood up to defend their female counterparts—who could have used their platform to amplify these issues—have often chosen silence. This silence is not innocent. It, too, is a choice. And at this particular moment, it stands in stark contrast to the responsiveness and cohesion of the women’s sports community.

How the Story Was Told

The way the American media covered this incident is revealing in itself. Some chose to focus their headlines on the controversy, on Trump’s joke, and on the players’ reaction. Others quickly shifted to analyzing the political impact of this incident on the president. Very few placed at the center of their coverage what the players themselves asked to be highlighted: their accomplishments. This media tendency to make the political reaction the heart of the story rather than the athletic achievement is, in itself, a form of erasure—even if unintentional, even if well-intentioned.

The paradox is cruel: by extensively covering the controversy to support the players, the media risks doing exactly what the players asked to avoid—overshadowing their achievements with the surrounding noise. It’s a real editorial dilemma, and there’s no perfect solution. But it deserves to be named and acknowledged.

This post is itself caught in this paradox. By mentioning Trump’s joke, I’m giving it space. By focusing solely on the players’ victories, I’m overlooking what actually happened. There’s no clean way out. There’s only intention—and I want mine to be clear: these players deserve better. They deserve much better.

The Issue of Narrative in Women’s Sports

The question of who tells the stories of women’s sports—and how they are told—is fundamental. For decades, the dominant narratives in sports have been built around men, by men, for supposedly male audiences. Female athletes have been treated as subcategories, as footnotes to the main narrative. This reality is changing—slowly, imperfectly, but truly. Media outlets are specializing in coverage of women’s sports. New audiences are forming. Revenue is following. This movement is fragile. It needs moments like this—moments when athletes refuse to be reduced to a side note—to grow stronger.

A Society Divided on These Issues

The White House incident comes amid a particularly tense climate in the U.S. surrounding issues of gender, equality, and women’s place in public life. Debates over transgender athletes, equal pay, and gender parity in institutions—all of these debates are heated, polarized, and often painful. Trump’s joke fits into this context—one it did not create, but which it fuels. It instantly becomes a symbol for those who condemn it, and a non-issue for those who defend it. This is the nature of contemporary American politics: every incident becomes a test of tribal loyalty rather than an opportunity for shared reflection.

What’s unfortunate about this polarization is that it prevents a more nuanced and productive conversation. A conversation about what it truly means to honor female athletes. A conversation about the standards of behavior expected of public figures during official events. A conversation about how humor, even when unintentional, can belittle and hurt. These conversations are necessary. They are also, in the current climate, nearly impossible to have without them immediately devolving into partisan clashes.

America in 2025 is a society that struggles to have difficult conversations without turning them into trench wars. And that’s a loss for everyone—including those who are convinced they’re right.

Sports as a Social Barometer

Sports have always served as a social barometer. They reveal what a society truly thinks about equality, human worth, and merit. Stadiums are mirrors. Locker rooms are mirrors. And sometimes, the White House reception rooms are mirrors. What the mirror showed that day wasn’t pretty. But it’s useful. Because uncomfortable mirrors are the ones that, sometimes, bring about change.

When Controversy Becomes a Catalyst

In the history of American women’s sports, there have been moments that have served as catalysts—moments when an injustice, brought to light, sparked a movement that brought about lasting change. The lawsuit filed by the players on the women’s national soccer team for equal pay is one such example. The tennis players’ fight for prize money parity at Wimbledon is another. These battles have been long, painful, and costly. But they have produced tangible results.

It’s too early to say whether the White House incident will become such a defining moment for American women’s hockey. But the conditions are there. The media attention is there. The players’ response is there—measured, dignified, and precise. And the collective emotion is there. These ingredients, if used wisely, can produce something lasting. A national conversation about how we treat female athletes. An awareness of the gap between the words we use to celebrate them and the actions we take to truly support them.

The history of sports is full of moments when humiliation has been turned into fuel. These players have that fuel now. The question is: what will they do with it? And what will we do with it alongside them?

What the Women’s Hockey Players Have Already Won

Regardless of what comes next, the U.S. women’s hockey team has already won something important in this episode. They’ve won a public demonstration of their own integrity. They’ve shown that they know who they are, what they’re worth, and what they refuse to accept. That demonstration won’t fade away. It remains. It becomes part of their collective history—a history that tells us that this team, in addition to being the best in the world on the ice, stood its ground with grace when others tried to make them back down.

What Remains When the Noise Dies Down

When the controversy has blown over, when the media cycle has moved on to something else, when Trump’s joke has become a footnote in the political chronicles of 2025, something will remain. The medals will remain. The victories will remain. The hours of training, the sacrifices, the tears, and the triumphs will remain. Gold doesn’t fade away. It may be momentarily overshadowed, but it remains gold. These players know that. That’s why they were able to respond with such calm and strength. They know what they have. They know who they are. And no one can take that away from them.

This post is a tribute. Not just to the American women’s hockey players who had the courage to speak out. But to all female athletes who, every day, in gyms without bleachers and on fields without cameras, continue to fight for the right to be seen for who they truly are: champions. The fight for this simple and fundamental recognition is far from over. But every time a champion refuses to let herself be diminished, the playing field shifts a little. And these shifts, when they add up, eventually change the world.

I’ll conclude with this: the next time a championship women’s team is welcomed into an official institution, I hope the question won’t be “Will they be respected?” but “How are we going to celebrate them as they deserve?” On that day, perhaps we will have made progress. Until then, posts like this one remain necessary.

A Call Not to Forget

Attention is fleeting. Controversies arise and fade away at breakneck speed in today’s media landscape. But the patterns themselves endure. The pattern of the easy joke about women who excel. The pattern of condescending surprise at their competence. The pattern of superficial celebration that masks underlying contempt. These patterns will not disappear on their own. They will disappear only when enough people—men and women, politicians and commentators, fans and institutions—consciously decide to put a stop to them. That decision begins with a choice: the choice not to forget. The choice to remember, the next time a female athlete is fighting for her place, that this battle should not even be taking place. And to choose, at that moment, to stand up.

Signed, Jacques Pj Provost