Blazing a trail for transgender athletes
It’s the third Invictus Games for U.S. army veteran Aaron Stewart — but his first as a male
Transgender athlete Aaron Stewart is competing in the Invictus Games for the third time — but this is his first as a male.
The retired army sergeant from Missouri will be among 550 ill, injured or wounded servicemen and women from 17 countries who will take part in 12 adaptive sports over the next week in Toronto.
Discharged from the army in January 2015 after a serious injury suffered during a deployment to Kuwait, Stewart began taking steps to change his identity and appearance — he had his breasts removed, had a hysterectomy, began hormone shots and legally changed his name from Bethany Erin Stewart to Aaron Edward Stewart.
As a transgender athlete, Stewart, who specializes in swimming and cycling and has won eight Invictus medals including two golds, will be competing in Toronto against other servicemen at a time of heated debate in the U.S. over whether transgender people should even be allowed to serve their country.
U.S. President Donald Trump ignited a storm of controversy in July when he tweeted he was reinstating a ban on transgender individuals in the military. He cited medical costs and “disruption” in the military as his reasons.
The move would reverse a policy — announced under former president Barack Obama and still under final review — that would allow them to serve openly. Transgender personnel, of whom there are 1,320 to 6,630 active members, according to a RAND study, remain in the U.S. military. Stewart calls Trump’s ban “unjust.” “As long as you can perform your job, it’s nobody’s business,” Stewart, 33, says from Missouri before setting out for Toronto. He agreed to speak to the Star before the Games got underway because he didn’t want to be constrained by spokespeople for the event, especially given his views on Trump’s transgender ban.
“Because you identify as a male when you were born female . . . we can’t die for (our) country. My country says you’re not good enough for that. It’s insulting.”
Stewart says that while serving as a female in the army there were fellow soldiers and some at higher ranks who knew he wanted to transition to a male, and had no problem with it.
“I have friends in the military who are transgender. They have awards, decorations, they’re pilots . . . I just don’t see how (being transgender) has any effect on their ability to do their job.”
Stewart was born a she, in Springfield, Mo., population 159,000, the third-largest city in the “Bible Belt” state. Stewart struggled with his identity, but knew that voicing his feelings was taboo.
During the interview, Stewart shied away from revealing too much about his parents, except to say he hasn’t spoken to them in several years. They live only 20 minutes away.
He’s also estranged from his sister, but close to his brother.
“I was home-schooled,” Stewart recalls of his sheltered upbringing, “and I wasn’t allowed anywhere except the church, basically.” His family switched churches several times, bouncing from Baptist, to Assemblies of God, non-denominational, to inter-denominational “whatever the flavour of the month was,” he says.
Though he was a girl, wearing his hair in pigtails as a child and polishing his fingernails as a teenager, he was uncomfortable in that skin.
“Nothing fit how I felt,” Stewart says.
Around the time he turned 20, prompted by the horror of the 9/11 terrorist attacks and the memory of his great-grandfather, who served in the Second World War, Stewart decided to enlist.
“I’m proud to be an American, and as part of being American it was my duty to serve.”
He joined the air force in 2004, doing basic training in San Antonio, Texas. He later moved to Gulfport, Miss., to study air traffic control.
It was there that a female trainee began to suspect Stewart and a group of other women in the base’s living quarters were lesbians, and complained to higher-ups.
“I had short hair. I guess I looked like a lesbian,” he recalls.
This was under the Clinton administration’s “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy, which banned openly gay and lesbian individuals from serving in the military. As many as 20 women were brought in for questioning, but not told why, Stewart recalls. “We were told . . . not to talk about the matter.”
Roughly a month later, after an agonizing wait, lawyers told the women they were under investigation for violating the “don’t ask” policy.
Stewart denied the accusations. He had his dream career and didn’t want to lose it.
He had the choice of fighting the case before a military board of discipline, but losing would mean a dishonourable discharge and the risk of jail time, his lawyer told him. The other option was not fighting the case and accepting an honourable discharge, which Stewart did, in August 2005, as airman, first-class.
For the next two years Stewart petitioned the government to get back into the armed forces. In 2007, he was successful, but there were conditions. Still living as a female, Stewart was told by an army recruiter that he had to sign a waiver promising to marry a man, and set a wedding date.
Stewart chuckles at the absurdity of such a pledge. “Looking back, it’s amusing, but it’s also sad that it had to come to that. That you had to fight that hard to serve your country.”
A friend promised to stand in as “husband,” but in the end there was no wedding. “Once I got approval to join the army — I swore in, took my oath — it wasn’t necessary to marry. No one followed up,” Stewart says.
In 2009, Stewart married a woman he met in New York, and the couple lived happily for a time. He was stationed in Kansas and lived with his wife in Missouri during his time off. “(We) didn’t look like a transgender couple or heterosexual couple because I hadn’t been physically able to move forward with the changes.”
His wife knew about his gender identity issues and was very supportive, he says.
Stewart was eventually promoted to sergeant before being deployed to Kuwait in 2010. While there, he injured his back while moving equipment. The army wasn’t able to treat him properly in the field, so he was flown home in 2011, a devastating blow given how hard he’d fought to get back into the armed forces. He was sent to Utah to recover in a warrior transition program.
By this time, his marriage had ended — the separation during his assignments away hindered the relationship, Stewart says.
“I had a lot of depression and anxiety. I didn’t handle the pain from my injury well. They said I couldn’t stay in the military because my injury meant I wasn’t deployable. I was of no value to the army. So, for the second time in a short number of years, I saw my military career ending. It was something I fought so hard for, so it was devastating.”
Despondent, he attempted suicide in July 2012, swallowing a combination of pills.
Staff Sgt. Leonard Cyre, another soldier in the transition unit, found Stewart passed out and managed to keep him alive until help arrived.
Stewart remained in a coma for several days before regaining consciousness. He recovered, and was stationed back in Kansas to continue the warrior transition program when his command asked for volunteers to participate in an upcoming competition in Las Vegas involving adaptive sports.
In 2014, Stewart competed in the Air Force Trials in Las Vegas and Army Trials in New York, the inaugural Invictus Games in the U.K. and the Warrior Games in Colorado. He performed well at all the competitions, including Invictus U.K. where he participated in recumbent cycling and swimming, taking two golds in cycling. At the 2016 Invictus Games in Orlando, Stewart captured two silver medals in cycling and four swimming medals: three silver, one bronze.
The bike Stewart uses in cycling allows him to sit reclined, easing pressure on his back and shoulder. In swimming, he adapts his moves to accommodate his injury.
Whenever he competes, he dedicates his performances to Cyre, the soldier who rescued him and whom Stewart befriended. Cyre died at home five months to the day after Stewart’s attempted suicide.
The exact number of transgender athletes to participate in Invictus isn’t known. However, everyone is welcome, says Michael Burns, CEO of the Toronto Games: “The responsibility of the organizing committee is to ensure that all of the competitors, families and guests coming to Toronto feel included, respected and have the finest experience possible that will help them with their healing and recovery.”
U.S. First Lady Melania Trump will attend the opening ceremonies Saturday, representing her husband who continues to stand by the ban.
Professor Angela Hattery, director of women and gender studies at George Mason University in Virginia, says the U.S. is “out of step” with most post-industrial societies in terms of dealing with LGBTQ issues.
“The resistance has come primarily from the religious right. The majority of people in the United States do not identify with the religious right, or ultra-conservative Christian faith, but (these groups) are very vocal,” she says.
Trump’s ban on transgender personnel in the military doesn’t make sense to her. “Why relieve people of their duty when they’re doing what you’re asking them to do — in a job a lot of other people frankly don’t want?” Hattery adds.
As the controversy over this issue swirls, Stewart, who legally changed his gender last year, is continuing his transition. He self-administers testosterone — one injection every week in the thigh — to maintain normal male levels. He is saving up for the $40,000 (U.S.) he’ll need for surgery to give him a functioning penis, a two-year process.
He lives in Missouri with his female partner, Emily — they were neighbours as children — and Emily’s daughter. The couple plan to marry in November.
Stewart, who receives medical retirement payments, is planning to go to school to study radiation therapy and hopes to find work in that field.
Stewart anticipates tougher physical rigour given he’s going up against males at these Games, and he doesn’t expect to grab as many medals as his previous two Invictus performances.
“It will be completely different competition for me.”