The Power of a Ponytail
Get caught up in the ‘firsts’ of this season of professional women’s hockey, just know they’re not the first of their kind.
In time for International Women’s Day, Molson announced its partnership with the PWHL. Their buzz-worthy marketing campaign cleverly moved players’ name bars to the bottom of their jerseys, making room for the Molson brand logo now stitched across the top of jerseys. This area of the jersey, often covered by a ponytail, represents the less visible real-estate on the back of a female player’s jersey. As Molson states in its campaign, ‘we covered our name so hers could be seen’, a powerful message and one the world is seemingly finally ready for.
Ironically, on International Women’s Day, this isn’t the first time name bars have existed at the bottom of paid professional women’s hockey jerseys–credit for this idea actually belongs to a woman. In 2015, in the National Women’s Hockey League’s (NWHL) inaugural season, Dani Rylan, the then late-20-something founder launched four investor-backed, salary-capped teams, all with players name bars located at the bottom of their jersey.
I played for Dani that season as she toggled between league Founder, Commissioner and GM of the New York Riveters (can you imagine). I never asked Dani if there was anyone else to credit for that recommendation, but as a Gretzky-hero-era kid who was no longer allowed to jersey tuck, I did ask her why. Her response resonated more with me than the marketing department execs at Molson. She told me, “Because both your ponytail and your name are important Kidd– let’s make sure the world can see both”.
As a young girl growing up playing boys hockey in the 90s and early 00s, my ponytail was a source of constant grief. Once it was spotted flowing from the back of my helmet it invited all sorts of vitriol from opposing players and parents; it seemed to coax out the catch-phrase of the era, “you don’t belong out here”.
As I grew up and into the world of women’s hockey, I met girls with similar experiences who cut their hair or adapted to playing with their hair tucked up in their helmet so they would be treated as equals. I didn’t blame them, I had thought about it too. But for me, my ponytail was a totem of my girlhood and something I wanted to protect even as the world branded me a ‘tom boy’. It was part of me, and I just wanted to be allowed to be me, in every arena of life.
Dani knew this experience, she grew up playing boys hockey for the Tampa Bay Junior Lightning. The year I was born, a very young Dani would have seen the first NHL jersey adorned with a woman’s name bar. It was Manon Rhéaume’s last name that painted the back of a Tampa Bay goalie jersey for an exhibition game. I’m not sure anyone else could have designed a league from day one that accounted for–in the way the budget could–the lived experience of pioneer era women’s players quite like Dani did.
As a fan of the PWHL and a woman in business I can appreciate the power of some of the cut-through messages the league has decided to go to market with. Even the ones that have seemed to diminish mine and my former, now-retired, teammates playing experiences or made me question whether my time in the former leagues (i.e., NWHL, CWHL) should still be considered professional (it was and still is).
Professional women’s hockey has for a long time been an exciting and compelling product but it operates under the same conventional rules of business– you can’t sell a product that nobody knows how to find. We are now experiencing the marketing the sport has long deserved, but it behooves us to remember that just because you’re inundated with the messages of ‘first’– or ones that imply it– it doesn’t mean these things are the first of their kind.
Molson’s message is powerful and provocative because it’s correct. We don’t know enough names of female athletes, period. Ask anyone to engage in active recall of 10 female athletes and they will more than likely fail, or at least start to pause or slow down at 3–5. Repeat this activity with male athletes and the list will exceed 10 very quickly. Dozens of my friends sent or mentioned the Molson campaign to me with comments like “genius” and “how exciting”’. Molson’s message is working to promote the names of the women who make the game great and that little girls will aspire to be, that’s a very good thing.
I’m not sharing my perspective to detract from the incredible inaugural season of the PWHL or the interest and backing from major brands like Molson. These partnerships are vital to the successful growth of women’s hockey and more than likely one of the missing ingredients in the inaugural season of the NWHL. My intention is to express hope that in the coming seasons, the league and its sponsors pay better and less selective homage to the women who paved the way. I think we’re all tired of women’s names being forgotten when they deserve credit for their intellect, abilities, courage and leadership– isn’t that the whole point?