Visibility, identity and pride shape the journey of LGBTQ athletes at the Winter Olympics
At the Milan Cortina Winter Olympics, the medals shine, but for some athletes, visibility shines even brighter.
On the ice in Cortina d’Ampezzo, speedskater Conor McDermott-Mostowy races against time and a past that told queer athletes to hide. Growing up in Washington, D.C., he stayed away from team sports, not because he lacked skill, but because locker rooms can be more intimidating than stadiums. Years later, he stands under Olympic lights as part of a record number of openly LGBTQ Olympians. His presence is intentional. It reflects progress.
Team USA embodies that change. Downhill skier Breezy Johnson, figure skater Amber Glenn, snowboarder Maddy Schaffrick, speedskater Brittany Bowe, hockey players Hilary Knight, Alex Carpenter, and Cayla Barnes do not wait until retirement to share their truths. They are open about who they are while competing.
Johnson pointed out that athletes were led to believe that success required silence. They thought sponsors preferred straight narratives and that excellence demanded self-editing. But seeing others win without hiding changed that story. She believes identity and achievement are not opposites; they are allies.
Over ten years ago, when freestyle skier Gus Kenworthy came out, it felt significant. It challenged the fear that being open meant losing everything. The current Olympic team is not only larger but also louder. It shows that fear is no longer the main language of elite sports, even if it hasn’t completely vanished.
However, visibility does not exist in isolation.Competing for the United States now involves navigating a tense political climate. Debates about LGBTQ rights—covering classrooms, healthcare, and symbols—have intensified. Under Donald Trump’s administration, controversies like the removal of a Pride flag at Stonewall National Monument sparked renewed discussions about what recognition really means. For McDermott-Mostowy and others, this makes the Olympics even more political and urgent.
Glenn, who identifies as pansexual, understands that urgency. As the first openly queer U.S. women’s Olympic figure skater, she does not treat her identity as an afterthought. When she celebrated a team medal with Alysa Liu, she took to social media not just in victory, but to advocate as well. The modern Olympian is no longer a silent figure; she is a voice with energy.
Change is also happening beyond the rink. Platforms like Grindr have improved privacy protections for users in Olympic host areas, recognizing that global celebration can happen alongside local risks. Visibility is powerful, but safety is still delicate.
The Olympics have always been political. From Cold War boycotts to the propaganda-filled ceremonies of earlier Games, sports have never been separate from ideology. Discussing identity today does not mean bringing politics into sports; it recognizes that sports were never apolitical from the start.For this generation, success is not just about medals. It is about living openly without fear. It is about holding hands without doubt. It is about competing without losing oneself.
And somewhere, a young athlete is watching.
Not just the podium.
But the possibility.