McGillis' Journey Led to Activism | FEATURE

The first thing you should know about Brock McGillis is that he can probably out-bench you. He certainly could back in his heyday anyway, when he was out-maxing many of the hockey athletes he was training in the early to mid 2010s.

“I’m 41 (years old) now and I train more for functionality and aesthetic than ego,” he said. “But back then, I was doing over 315 for reps. Not bad for a goalie.”

The second thing you should know about Brock McGillis is that he is the first openly gay professional hockey player and an active advocate for LGBTQ+ rights and acceptance.

Since retiring from the sport, he has begun a career in public speaking, focusing on topics such as mental health awareness, breaking down barriers and promoting inclusion in sports and other areas of life.

McGillis has traveled all across the North America engaging with various corporations, organizations, events, schools and sports team to talk and help foster an inclusive culture and environment. And he’s learned some things along the way.

“After nine years of doing this, I’ve realized a few things,” he said. “The most important thing I’ve realized is that each and every one (of us) has the ability to create a shift. Each and every one (of us) has the ability to make the world this much better.”

While much has changed in the past decade as far as inclusion in the sport, there is still a long way to go, particularly in the locker room.

“To me, we are making progress,” McGillis said. “I think we do a lot of lovely things for fans and that type of culture. But we don’t do enough to humanize, engage and educate players, coaches, etc. and foster environments where everyone can be themselves in the locker room.”

As an aside, McGillis pointed out that 25 percent of Gen Z identifies somewhere in the LGBTQ+ community. Yet, there are zero NHL players that are out currently in the League despite nearly half the players falling into that category.

“Simple math,” he noted.

And the reason those players aren’t coming out and being themselves is due to the locker room culture that persists. So, they hide their true selves and conform. And as a result, their mental health suffers.

“I’ve had over 50 hockey players, elite hockey players at all levels, since the start of this calendar year tell me that they tried to die by suicide this year,” McGillis continued. “They’re hiding that. They’re suffering.”

Changing that cultural mindset is part of McGillis’ goal. It’s why he’s dedicated his life to activism. It’s why he launched a speaking tour to talk to anyone who will listen to his message. It’s why he visited over 150 teams in Canada and over 70 in the United States in under two months as part of the Shiftmakers Tour, bringing his message of inclusivity to every corner of North America.

“People want this. The people in the locker rooms want it. Players love it. Coaches like it,” McGillis said. “A shift in this space has to come so that people can be themselves.”

McGillis had to grow into his voice as a public speaker and advocate. And it was a long and winding path. But it is a path that has made him who he is today.

In many ways, McGillis had a typical Canadian rural hockey background. After being born in Sudbury, his family moved when he was 9 years old to a small town in Markstay, Ontario. A town so small that McGillis joked, “it’s a town of 500 people and I was related to 485 of them.”

It was there that his love of hockey began. He lived close to the local hockey arena, and it would be his home away from home. Every day after school, McGillis would make his way to the arena and hit the ice. He spent so much time there that his parents would drop off his dinner, knowing that he refused to leave the ice.

“I lived at the rink,” he said. “It was easy. A town of 500 people, you know everyone. You know the arena manager; someone my dad grew up with. It made it nice and easy.”

McGillis started to excel at the sport and was moving up the ranks of youth hockey programs. But as natural as he was on the ice, he knew something didn’t feel right off the ice, particularly in the locker room.

“Along the way, I realized I didn’t really resonate what was being talked about in the locker room, specifically girls and women,” he said. “But what did impact me was the homophobic language I heard. It made me feel like I was bad, like I was wrong, like I couldn’t be me and play the sport I love. I felt like I couldn’t be me and do what I love.

“So, I suppressed who I was.”

McGillis put on the mask and public persona of a stereotypical “hockey bro.” He was a womanizer, partied, acted arrogantly and was the life of the party. But when he would get to his billets house at night, he would cry. And he began to bury his problems, and his life, in alcohol.

“I hated myself,” he admitted. “I started drinking heavily, every single day from 18-23 to numb it and not think about it.”

McGillis’ career started going south. He was depressed, self-harming and struggling with injuries. He found himself out of the Ontario Hockey League and playing minor league hockey in the Netherlands at 23 years old.

His career, and life, came to a crossroads.

“I sat myself down and said, ‘man, you need to figure this out,’” he said. “I knew two things were going to happen. One, hockey was going to end. And most importantly, No. 2, if I didn’t figure out who I was and I kept going down this destructive path, I was likely going to end up dead.”

McGillis had been living a double life. A womanizing hockey bro on the outside. But a gay man on the inside. And the time had come for him to embrace his inside life.

So, at the age of 23, he went on a date. With a man. For the first time.

“It was terrifying. I was so scared,” he laughed. “It’s this 150-pound gay guy and I’m this professional athlete, but I’m shaking and trembling.”

It solidified for him his identity as a gay man.

“I knew going to it. I had always known,” he said. “But finally, I could accept it and say it out loud.”

Needless to say, the date went well. Very well. In fact, the two men began a three-year relationship afterward. However, McGillis kept the relationship a secret from everyone in his life, fearing that it could jeopardize his hockey career. McGillis even went by a fake name to his partner’s friends so that they wouldn’t find out he was a hockey player and out him, possibly ruining his career.

Though he had finally come to terms with who he was, he still had to live in hiding. He wasn’t free to be himself. He hid his lover for years, with no one knowing, not even his closest friends or family.

And when he broke up with his partner, he had to hide his pain. He was forced to suffer silently and alone. There was no one with whom he could share his emotions. That was until one fateful evening…

McGillis continued his hockey career at Concordia University in Montreal, Quebec in 2009. One night, he was at home doing school work and had a Toronto Maple Leafs vs. Montreal Canadiens game on in the background. At one juncture during the game, Brendan Burke was being interviewed.

Brendan, the son of legendary hockey figure and then Leafs GM Brian Burke, was discussing many things during the interview, including wanting to follow his father’s path and become an NHL GM. But it wasn’t until he mentioned that he was gay, that McGillis took notice.

McGillis reached out to Burke that evening and they became instant friends.

“It was such a relief. I finally had someone who understood what it was like to be gay in hockey, and that duality,” McGillis said. “For each of us, having someone to talk to that understood our world, the hockey world. It’s not something that’s relatable. People don’t understand what it’s like to be in that space.”

The two talked daily. They discussed everything from their dreams and aspirations, McGillis’ breakup, and even fantasized the idea of McGillis being the first openly gay hockey player and Burke being the first openly gay GM.

On Feb. 3, 2010, Burke texted McGillis a message: “I can’t wait for the day that you’re out to your family like I’m out to mine.”

McGillis ignored the text. He never responded. He still wasn’t ready for that step yet didn’t know what to say back. Unfortunately, he would never get that chance.

That message was the final spoken between the two. On Feb, 5 – two days after sending the message – Burke died in a tragic car accident.

Within months, McGillis had lost his long-term partner and now had lost the only friend that knew his true self. He was once again alone. But McGillis kept coming back to that last message and decided to honor Burke’s memory by coming out to his family.

McGillis opened up first to his younger brother Cory, who was the epitome of a hyper masculine hockey guy, a big, power forward that played physical and never shied from conflict.

When McGillis said, “Cory, I’m gay,” the response was, “Yeah, so? You’re Brock. I love you.”

McGillis had heard something similar when he was 6 years old from his parents. While watching a movie, he was exposed to a gay character for the first time. And the young McGillis asked, “What if I’m gay?” His parents responded: “If you’re gay, you’re gay. You’re Brock. We love you.” They had the same response 20 years later.

McGillis would also come out to his friends that weren’t involved in hockey because he still feared losing friends and losing opportunities to play. Even though he had taken a big step forward, he still couldn’t fully be himself in the world.

Upon retiring from the sport, McGillis moved back to Sudbury and started working with hockey players in off-ice training and on-ice skill development. He worked with over 100 hockey players each day. But he feared if they knew he was gay, they wouldn’t want to work with him.

It wasn’t until one of the hockey moms tried to set McGillis up on a date – with a man – that he found out that all the players knew he was gay.

“I thought, all these hockey bros know I’m gay and choose to work with me. That’s pretty cool,” he said.

Yet, he still feared coming out would cost him friends and opportunities in the sport. But a few dominos would change everything and lead to his coming out to the world.

First, a hockey association blackballed his businesses from working with their teams without giving a reason. Soon after, a few head coaches kicked McGillis off their staffs and wouldn’t let him work with their players. Again, without a reason given. Though it was obvious.

Every fear that McGillis ever had ever was coming true. He was being shunned and closed out by the hockey community not because of his abilities as a coach and trainer, but because of who he loved.

“They treated me like I was less than a human being for something that is completely out of my control and frankly none of their business,” McGillis said.

McGillis’ professional career was crumbling. But a second event would truly change the trajectory of his life.

On June 12, 2016, a man walked into a gay nightclub, Pulse, in Orlando and killed 49 people, wounding another 53. Simply because they loved differently.

“The reality for my community, if two men are walking down the street holding hands, or two women, or a trans person is existing in society, they do get verbally harassed and at times physically assaulted,” McGillis said. “Even in 2025, people are killed for it.

“Those gay bars and night clubs are such safe spaces for us, places where we can love who we love. Where we don’t worry about that harassment.”

A week after the Pulse shooting, a friend of McGillis was hosting a charity event. But he told McGillis that he shouldn’t go to the charity event. McGillis was initially insult. Why wouldn’t he want him there? The reality was that his friend was on a terrorist hit list.

“They have a picture of me online and I’m a target,” he told Brock. But the friend was still going to go to the charity event.

“All right,” McGillis said. “I’m coming with you.”

On the night of the event, the two men got into an Uber knowing there was a possibly that they could both be killed that evening. Just for being who they are. But they still went.

“I was so fed up with hiding,” he said. “I couldn’t keep hiding. I was just so exhausted and thought I’m not doing this any longer. And I told my friend that you’re not doing this alone. I need to be there. I need to start to fight for myself.”

They arrived at the charity event. But it was very different from the many that McGillis had attended in prior years. They passed through a metal detector and there was undercover police and security present. While McGillis went to the bar, he was watching people getting frisked and checked for weapons.

“I was thinking is this seriously happening in Toronto? In Ontario? In Canada?” he said. “I was thinking, when is this going to change? When is this going to evolve? When can we just exist?

“I thought about it and said to myself, I can sit here and be angry or I can do something about it. I slept on it that night. The next day I reached out to a journalist friend of mine and said, ‘I’m coming out.’”

On Nov. 3, 2016, Yahoo! Sports Canada published an article titled ‘I lived a life of denial, because I am gay’ by Brock McGillis.

For years I lived a life full of lies. Growing up in a culture of hockey – minor hockey, the Ontario Hockey League, university hockey, and semi-pro in Europe – I felt I would never be accepted.

For years I lived a life full of denial, because I am gay.

Finally, McGillis was telling his story. As his authentic self. He became the first openly gay hockey player.

Cliches like “Boys being boys” and “Locker room talk” were never valid defences – this is why I’m telling my story. I’m telling my story to start a dialogue. If you are gay, lesbian or trans and playing hockey, know that you are not alone. Know that you are not the only one.

The article sent shock waves through the hockey world. In a good way, and McGillis was taking control of his life.

“I did it for me. I needed to empower myself,” McGillis said. “I hoped it would help a few people along the way, but I couldn’t imagine what happened next.”

In that opening day, he received over 10,000 messages. Many were positive and showing support. Other messages were from people struggling with the same issues that McGillis had also faced.

Afterward, he would be contacted by media wanting to tell his story. He would be contacted by organizations that wanted him to speak to their employees. And soon, he would be contacted by hockey teams – from youth to the NHL – and other sports teams asking him to speak to their players.

All it took was that bold first step to announce to the world who he was, authentically. McGillis told his story to humanize his experience and teach simple ways that we can all create shifts so that everyone can be themselves.

“It was liberating (writing the article). It was truly the first step of what’s been a journey of not worrying or caring what anyone thinks of me,” McGillis said. “It’s gotten me to where I am today.”

Where is he is today, nearly a decade later, is being a leading voice and activist for the marginalized, fighting for inclusion in all spaces for all people, not just the LGBTQ+ community. He's fighting for all communities.

A lot may have changed for McGillis in the past 10 years, but a few things remain the same. He is still just Brock. He still loves hockey. And, most importantly, he can still out-bench you.