Olympic athletes aren't stumbling into competition by accident; years of training, taxpayer-backed facilities, national governing bodies, corporate sponsors, and a county willing to invest all come together to push the select few onto the world's stage.
Displaying the flag on their uniform represents far more than any fashion choice or personal mood, yet every Olympic cycle seems to attract competitors who want the benefits without sharing the burden of gratitude.
U.S. freestyle skier Hunter Hess, a Team USA member, recently voiced his mixed emotions about representing America, citing immigration enforcement and political disagreements. He determined that the flag on his chest represents friends, family, and personal ideals over government actions, a clarification that went over like passing wind in church.
First-time Olympian Hunter Hess echoed that sentiment but took it further, saying he has "mixed emotions" about representing the U.S. in these Games.
"It brings up mixed emotions to represent the U.S. right now, I think. It’s a little hard. There’s obviously a lot going on that I’m not the biggest fan of, and I think a lot of people aren’t.
"I think, for me, it’s more I’m representing my friends and family back home, the people that represented it before me, all the things that I believe are good about the U.S. If it aligns with my moral values, I feel like I’m representing it. Just because I’m wearing the flag doesn't mean I represent everything that’s going on in the U.S.
"I just kind of want to do it for my friends and my family and the people that support me getting here."
President Donald Trump responded with a blunt message, labeling Hess a loser, a remark that landed on target.
“U.S. Olympic Skier, Hunter Hess, a real Loser, says he doesn’t represent his Country in the current Winter Olympics. If that’s the case, he shouldn’t have tried out for the Team, and it’s too bad he’s on it. Very hard to root for someone like this,” Trump wrote on his social media platform.
Wearing the Flag While Resenting It
Hess's remarks triggered familiar defenses among fellow athletes. Eileen Gu, an American-born freestyle skier who decided to compete for China, showed sympathy and framed the controversy as an unwinnable press storm, describing athletes as trapped between public expectations and personal beliefs. After Gu decided to represent China years earlier, she became familiar with the controversy and faced her own torrent of backlash.
Other American Olympians chimed in. Chris Lillis, freestyle aerials gold medalist, talked about the heartbreak over national divisions, while at the same time stressing love for America. Chloe Kim, a two-time Olympic gold medalist in snowboarding, defended athletes' rights to speak freely while acknowledging the opportunities America provided her immigrant family. Bee Kim highlighted diversity as a national strength; Maddie Mastro framed representation as kindness and unity despite perceived injustice.
All those sentiments sound noble, but they dodge a simple reality: Wearing a national uniform during the Olympics is voluntary; no athlete is dragged in chains to the podium.
Pride Without Asterisks
Most of those comments came with caveats, but when comparing that posture to Brady Tkachuk, forward for the Ottawa Senators and member of Team USA hockey, there's a distinct difference. Tkachuk called representing the United States one of the greatest honors of his life, full stop.
"Being able to represent the U.S. at this stage in the Olympics is one of the greatest honors I’ve ever had," he told reporters during a training session, via KDSK-TV. "Truly grateful to be here and represent the red, white, and blue."
Tkachuk was a standout performer when Team USA took the ice in the 4 Nations Face-Off last year. The Americans ignited a rivalry with Canada that had long been dormant aside from competitive play on the ice. Political tensions between the two countries last year led to an all-out brawl between players during the tournament.
His brother, Matthew, a Florida Panthers forward, echoed the sentiment as he prepared to compete in front of millions of Americans watching from home.
Nick Goepper, Olympic skier, emphasized respect and freedom as core American values worth defending. Jessie Diggins, a cross-country skiing gold medalist, acknowledged turmoil while drawing a firm line between personal opinion and national representation.
Nobody looked confused about what the uniform meant or why fans expected clarity.
That's a huge difference; fans respond to certainty, while ambivalence barely inspires chants.
Turning the Games Into a Soapbox
U.S. athletes weren't the only competitors who were stretching Olympic moments into political platforms. Gus Kenworthy, a British-American skier, faced threats after anti-ICE protests and later switched national allegiance. Alex Ferreira, a skier, called for peace at home and abroad. Figure skater Amber Glenn rejected silence on political causes.
Each stance adds yet more layers of noise to events designed for competition rather than airing personal grievances.
Athletes reap gold from the systems they criticize, much like guests who devour free meals before insulting the host's house. Training centers, medical staff, endorsements, and national branding don't materialize from vibes or hashtags; they come from national investment and public goodwill.
Silence Where Speaking Carries a Sentence
Now, let's compare American athletes with those representing the People's Republic of China, something nobody talks about.
Chinese Olympians never face questions about dissent for a reason; Jimmy Lai is the prime example. Lai was a Hong Kong publisher and democracy advocate who now finds himself sentenced to 20 years in prison, aged 78, essentially a life sentence, under national security charges for criticizing the Chinese Communist Party.
Beijing courts have already made clear that speech opposing the state earns decades behind bars, not press sympathy or televised panels, a reality that hangs over every Chinese uniform without a word needing to be spoken.
You will never see Chinese athletes receive microphones and gentle prompts asking how they feel about Lai's imprisonment. No reporter asks whether wearing the flag conflicts with personal values; no social media campaign demands nuance or emotional grace for competitors skating underneath an authoritarian emblem. The space is owned by silence because everybody understands the consequences of speaking up.
American athletes compete in an environment that's the opposite of theirs, where U.S. athletes' speech remains protected, criticism is free to flow, and nobody risks prison for disagreement. Some still frame Olympic representation as a moral burden instead of a privilege. Consider the contrast: One system enforces loyalty with fear, while the other allows dissent without penalty. Yet, only one gets scolded for expecting gratitude.
That imbalance is compounded by the absence of questions aimed at Chinese athletes. Freedom produces debate, while authoritarianism produces obedience; complaining about liberty while benefiting from it reflects a comfort level unknown to those watching loved ones disappearing into prison cells for simply speaking out.
Final Thoughts
Among a huge list of items, America funds dreams, with coaches, facilities, exposure, and opportunity all flowing from that national backing. Athletes who embrace that reality win loyalty along with medals, while those who criticize invite scrutiny.
I respect athletes who aren't afraid to show their beliefs, from fists in the 1968 air to Hess in 2026. Protests have become part of American Olympic life. But, you don't bite the hand that feeds you; if wearing the flag feels uncomfortable, then there's another competitor who's ready to shoulder the honor without question.
The podium shines the brightest when pride arrives without qualifiers.
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