Some things look impossibly perfect till they shatter. For them, the magic broke in an instant. One moment, they were flying around, contorting their bodies into impossibly beautiful shapes. And then, the tiniest of collisions as their skates hit each other, and down they fell in a heap. They got back up and finished, leaving some dreams behind.

He was their teammate, and if they’d been viewed as a strong possibility, he was the sure thing. But, his magic broke too. He stepped onto the ice favored to win and two minutes and forty seconds of struggle later, that dream too had dissolved. 

She wasn’t even there. Named second alternate at an age when most female skaters are winding down their competitive careers, it seemed like her Olympics wouldn’t happen at all.

That was a moment in time. Now, we’ve got another one. And, they’ve all got another chance. Madison Chock and Evan Bates, Nathan Chen, and Mariah Bell are all looking fierce, and all heading to Beijing for the 2022 Olympic Games. Which is one of my favorite things about skating – you can see people rebuild, from shattered to amazing. 

Skating can come off as an exotic oddity of a sport, partly because it’s most visible at the extremes. Maybe you’ve been part of a group of people sliding around the rink on a weekend, where the brave skate backwards and the terrified don’t let go of the wall. You’ve almost definitely seen media coverage of our superstars, who swoop around in dazzling costumes pulling off one superhuman trick after another. When that’s all you see of skating, it’s hard to grasp the whole story of any one skater, let alone the whole community. You’re only seeing our outermost layer, darling. 

If you’re under 25 and tell people you’re a figure skater, their usual reply is, “Are you going to the Olympics?” For most of us….no. That’s kind of like asking everyone who plays basketball if they’re bound for the NBA. Most of us don’t have triple axels in our arsenals or Olympic gold medals in our sights. What we do have in common is grit. 

There’s nothing glamorous about forcing yourself out of bed at dark o’clock so you can get a session in at the rink before school or work. There’s nothing thrilling about falling on the same trick attempt over and over again, or cutting your favorite pants with your own blade while trying not to fall out of a spin (ask me and my sewing needle how I know this). Our very best, the ones you’ll see headlining in Beijing, may look so divine that it’s like they’ve transcended the bounds of humanity. But that misses all the human-ing that goes into creating what looks like perfection. And it misses the bigger reasons that we skate – like the deep satisfaction of finally nailing that trick, or the blissful escapism of creating your own world with movements and music. We may look less dazzling than Team USA does – ok, most of us actually do look a lot less dazzling – but I think some version of that is the real reason every one of us skates, rather than depending on the fickle accolades of outsiders.

Speaking of outsiders, we shouldn’t have them. Every single one of you needs to strap on a pair of blades and join our world! No, just kidding, of course you don’t. But!! If you WANT to skate, you need access, and to me, the worst thing about skating is access doesn’t always come easy. This sport is expensive, and you can’t just find an ice rink everywhere. That’s why we need programs like Figure Skating in Harlem and Figure Skating in Detroit, that support young women of color in developing as students, athletes and leaders. I will die on the hill that skaters need to find ways to make our sport more accessible and push back against any overt or covert racist/sexist/ableist/any-ist bullshit, because people who love to skate need to skate, and the community is at its best when it welcomes everyone who wants to be there. Thank you for coming to my figure skating inclusivity TED talk.

I can’t wrap this one up without paying homage to two of the women who have shown us how to combine telling the truth about messy real life with gorgeous figure skating. Ashley Wagner never fit the ice princess myth and let us know about it. She let us see the reality behind her work as a skater. Whether she was sparkling or struggling, she was honest – and that carried over into her speaking out against Russia’s record on gay rights, about her own sexual assault at the hands of a fellow skater, and the realities behind her struggles with body image and concussions. She’s both a World medalist and a woman who speaks the truth as she experiences it – both things incredibly hard to be on their own, and she’s managed to pull off both. 

We always knew Ashley was going to call out the real shit. We didn’t know about Gracie Gold. Who looked, from far away, like the perfect embodiment of the ice princess myth eight years ago, with media comparing her to a triple-jumping Grace Kelley and buzzing about likely World and Olympic medals. 

Perfection didn’t happen, life did. After she missed a World medal, Gracie’s shatter was big and terrible. The kind of terrible that led to hunkering down all alone, racked by depression, anxiety and an eating disorder, covering up all the mirrors in her apartment so she couldn’t see herself. 

Her story could have ended there, in the worst way. Or, she could have faded away. She didn’t. With support from the skating association, Gracie got treatment. And then was brave enough to speak up about it. And then determined enough to return to competitive figure skating. For the past four years, she’s been out there, pursuing a different kind of dream. This is a recovery that’s not necessarily about achieving the big headliner goal, but continuing your story as best you possibly can. And, being brave enough to tell the rest of the world the truth about it. 

Ice princesses are a lie, but there are queens among us.

Figure skating photos courtesy of Rob Lichtefeld.