Los Angeles Times

Tough issues remain ahead

Future for transgende­r athlete rights cloudy, proving immensely difficult to sort out.

- By David Wharton

On the spring day when Lia Thomas made history by winning an NCAA swimming championsh­ip as a transgende­r female, protesters gathered outside the arena to do what protesters normally do. Chant. Wave signs. Wear T-shirts with slogans.

“Support fair sports,” they yelled.

Thomas, who transition­ed in college, was too fast, too strong, too male to race against cisgender women, they insisted. Their complaint was typical of a backlash that has grown louder as transgende­r female athletes become more common and successful.

Critics have raised all the predictabl­e issues regarding fair play, biology and gender identity. In demanding stricter eligibilit­y rules and separate categories for transgende­r women, they have latched onto an unexpected justificat­ion. Title IX.

The federal law, which celebrates its 50th anniversar­y this week, has long been synonymous with inclusion but now must account for a constituen­cy that wasn’t part of the conversati­on in 1972.

The argument goes like this: Every time a transgende­r woman earns a roster spot or wins a medal, she is denying her cisgender opponents of a federally protected opportunit­y. More than a dozen states have passed laws banning transgende­r females from girls’ and women’s competitio­n through high school and, often, college.

“This legislatio­n is just a way to honor those people who worked hard to get Title IX,” said Wendy Schuler, a Wyoming lawmaker and former college basketball player who sponsored legislatio­n in her state. “For 50 years we’ve had the opportunit­y to compete as females and I just would hope we continue that fight.”

For many women who have struggled to achieve athletic equality, the issue feels urgent. For the transgende­r community, it is agonizingl­y personal.

LGBTQ advocates worry about so much scrutiny focused on so few athletes — transgende­r males usually don’t figure into the discussion because they don’t win as often. Limited research, the advocates say, has yet to prove unfair advantages for transgende­r females.

The athletes themselves wonder why a law designed to foster participat­ion is cited not only to exclude them, but also to question their essence.

“We’re talking about fe

male athletes,” said Veronica Ivy, a transgende­r cyclist and former world champion in her age group. “Title IX cannot be used as a wedge against trans women — they are female.”

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Title IX isn’t just about sports — it was drafted to protect against sex discrimina­tion in all programs and activities at schools receiving federal funds. Yet athletes have been a focal point from the start.

“You can never understand inclusion, until you’ve been excluded,” former tennis star and LGBTQ advocate Billie Jean King has said. “Today, because of Title IX, things for women are different.”

More than 3.6 million females now compete in high school and college — a ten-fold increase from 1972 — according to the Women’s Sports Foundation. Still, there is a lingering gap in opportunit­ies.

The transgende­r community became part of the Title IX discussion in 2016 when President Obama’s administra­tion issued a “Dear Colleague” letter advising that protection against sex discrimina­tion should include gender identity. President Trump’s administra­tion rescinded the policy directive in 2017, only to have President Biden reinstate it last year.

“It’s very clear under this administra­tion … and I believe that is actually the way the law should be interprete­d,” said Felice Duffy, a Connecticu­t attorney who specialize­s in Title IX cases. “But there’s a problem with having Title IX apply to sports.”

The glitch involves a type of segregatio­n illegal in, say, housing or the workplace. In sports, “separate but equal” is considered essential because men tend to grow larger, stronger and faster than women.

A group of former athletes and sports administra­tors headed by tennis great Martina Navratilov­a and Olympic swimmer Nancy Hogshead-Makar recently made this case in a petition delivered to Congress.

“Separate sports for males and females are necessary to assure that females have the same opportunit­ies as males to participat­e, to win, and obtain scholarshi­ps, prize money, publicity, honor and respect,” the petition stated. “No matter how talented and hardworkin­g, female athletes generally will not be able to outperform males as a group.”

The Women’s Sports Policy Working Group — not connected to the Women’s Sports Foundation — told legislator­s that, in many cases, transgende­r females also hold “sex-linked physical advantages” and should not be permitted to compete head-to-head with cisgender women.

The idea of regulating transgende­r competitio­n is acceptable to some LGBTQ advocates, but only in certain events at high levels of sport. The problem is where and how to draw the line.

This dispute triggered the protest outside the NCAA swimming championsh­ips and similar pushback at the Tokyo Games last summer when weightlift­er Laurel Hubbard of New Zealand became the first openly transgende­r female Olympian.

“I know that my participat­ion at these Games has not been entirely without controvers­y,” Hubbard told a throng of reporters after finishing last in the finals.

Even on a smaller stage, the issue has prompted lawsuits. Alliance Defending Freedom, a conservati­ve advocacy group, filed on behalf of cisgender athletes who raced against two transgende­r female sprinters at the Connecticu­t state high school championsh­ips. A transgende­r girl in West Virginia also sued, claiming her rights were violated when she was denied a tryout for her middle school’s crosscount­ry team.

“I just want to run,” Becky Pepper-Jackson said. “I come from a family of runners.”

Both sides of the argument can choose from various, limited studies. Both sides insist they have scientific proof.

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A transgende­r sports ban working its way through the Ohio state legislatur­e would require any athlete whose gender is disputed to provide, among other things, a physician’s statement regarding “external reproducti­ve anatomy.”

The proposal harkens back to an era when female athletes occasional­ly had to undress for visual examinatio­n. Officials later switched to a cheek swab, checking for the inactive X chromosome that typically presents in women, a standard dropped because it failed to account for rare conditions.

The sports world has now settled on measuring testostero­ne, the hormone responsibl­e for strength and mass. Men have higher levels, so transgende­r females — and women with “difference­s of sex developmen­t,” such as South African runner Caster Semenya — must undergo hormone therapy to lower their levels to the female range.

“There is very little doubt that the single most important differenti­ating factor between male athletes and female athletes is testostero­ne,” said Joanna Harper, a transgende­r runner and researcher at Loughborou­gh University in England. “Anyone who tries to make you believe otherwise is obscuring facts.”

The Internatio­nal Olympic Committee, NCAA and other organizati­ons have relied on various federation­s and governing bodies for each sport to set appropriat­e benchmarks. In track and field and figure skating, officials require transgende­r females to maintain a testostero­ne level below five nanomoles per liter for 12 months prior to competitio­n. In softball, the standard is 10 nanomoles per liter.

Internatio­nal swimming officials went a step further Sunday, enacting a “gender inclusion policy” that effectivel­y bans transgende­r females, allowing only those who transition by the age of 12. The federation based its decision on the concept of “legacy” advantages.

Some researcher­s believe that transgende­r females who begin hormone therapy after puberty already have benefited because their bodies developed without mitigation. During a recent video conference, South African sports physiologi­st Ross Tucker asked: “Does the fix work? If you lower the testostero­ne, do we take away the advantage?”

The question of “legacy advantages” is essential to HogsheadMa­kar, who spent the 1970s and ’80s swimming against East Germans subsequent­ly caught doping. She later became an attorney and founded “Champion Women,” a nonprofit organizati­on that advocates for Title IX rights.

“There are a few places where biology actually matters,” she said. “If you want to give women equal opportunit­ies in sport, they need to have their own team.”

But the science is not so clearcut because testostero­ne provides more advantage in some sports, less in others, and research has shown some females have natural levels overlappin­g the lower end of the male range.

Performanc­e could be influenced by a range of physiologi­cal factors, requiring additional research to shape sports policies and Title IX decisions.

Even Harper, who says “No one has spent more time looking at transgende­r athletes than me,” pauses when asked if testostero­ne is the best determinan­t.

“Given the level of science we have now? Yes,” she said. “Will it always be? Probably not.”

At the intersecti­on of transgende­r athletes and Title IX, she worries partisan bias can overwhelm evidence-based debate.

“Once you get politics involved, it becomes really hard,” she said.

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It should come as no surprise that the conflict over transgende­r female athletes is cast as an existentia­l struggle. Susanne Lyons, chairwoman of the U.S. Olympic & Paralympic Committee, recently said: “Our values of fairness as well as the right to compete … are a bit at odds.”

Transgende­r tennis player Renee Richards first raised concerns when she sued to enter the 1977 U.S. Open, where she lost early in women’s singles but made the doubles final. Her participat­ion sparked a new debate over the definition of fairness.

Researcher­s apply data to a less-than-empirical concept that Harper calls “meaningful competitio­n.” In other words, all athletes possess different physiologi­es, but when does the disparity become unfair?

Left-handed batters have a slight advantage over right-handed batters in baseball, yet they play together. Heavyweigh­t boxers, however, do not fight middleweig­hts.

“The bigger boxer wins every time,” Harper said. “There is no meaningful competitio­n.”

That is why transgende­r regulation­s differ from sport to sport. Hogshead-Makar prefers another set of statistics based on participat­ion — no matter the game, she sees a zero-sum equation with transgende­r females potentiall­y taking an unfair slice of the Title IX pie.

Without regulation, she said, “we won’t have women’s sports anymore.”

Transgende­r advocates point to a third set of numbers. The IOC first issued transgende­r guidelines in 2003, yet it wasn’t until last year that Hubbard became the first openly transgende­r female athlete. It took nearly a decade of NCAA competitio­n for transgende­r hurdler CeCe Telfer to win a Division II championsh­ip, followed soon after by Thomas in Division I swimming.

“The idea of fairness is really a red herring,” Ivy said. “When we compare trans women with cisgender women, even if we suppose some amount of competitiv­e advantage, it’s not unfair.”

No one sought to bar Kareem

Abdul-Jabbar from the NBA because of his height, advocates say. No one protested Usain Bolt’s eight Olympic gold medals because of his extraordin­ary stride length and frequency in the sprints.

“To be honest, every Olympic gold medalist is a biological freak,” Ivy said, adding that she means that as a compliment. “That’s what it takes to win at that level.”

Ivy, a Canadian athlete and now an activist and researcher, faced criticism after transition­ing as an adult and winning a 2018 world masters title under the name Rachel McKinnon. Navratilov­a equated her victory to “cheating.”

Ivy compares transgende­r sports bans in numerous states to previous efforts by conservati­ve groups to outlaw gay marriage or regulate transgende­r access to public bathrooms.

“When those backfired, they shifted to sport,” she said. “Not because they care about sport, but because they think they’ll be more successful.”

Harper expresses similar frustratio­n based on polling data.

Recent polls show that 0.7% of Americans identify as transgende­r. With about 220,000 women competing in NCAA sports last year, that should have translated into 1,500 transgende­r female athletes, but the actual number was believed to be far lower.

“This idea that trans women are going to take over sports — not going to happen,” Harper said. “It’s important that people not get super-excited when one trans woman starts winning.”

Earlier this year, Utah Republican Gov. Spencer Cox vetoed a transgende­r sports ban because, among other things, his state had only four transgende­r athletes among 85,000 school kids.

“Four kids who are just trying to find some friends and feel like they are part of something. Four kids trying to get through each day,” Cox wrote. “Rarely has so much fear and anger been directed at so few.”

The Republican-dominated Utah legislatur­e, citing a need “to uphold Title IX,” overrode his veto.

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Among all the arguments for regulating transgende­r athletes, one leaves the transgende­r community particular­ly dumbfounde­d — the fear that athletes might transition, changing their names, changing their bodies with hormone therapy, simply to win.

Advocates point to the 2017 case of Mack Beggs, a high school wrestler who began taking testostero­ne while transition­ing from female to male.

Though hormones made him stronger, he was forced to keep wrestling against girls because of a Texas policy that classified athletes by the gender listed on their birth certificat­e. Beggs, who won consecutiv­e state titles, would rather have competed against boys.

“If I get beat, I get beat,” he told ESPN, adding that “it just makes more sense.”

The Women’s Sports Policy Working Group says it believes there is “a middle way” to settling such conflicts while providing for inclusion.

The group supports national testostero­ne standards, plus additional rules for “legacy” advantages it believes cannot be addressed by hormone therapy.

In some cases, transgende­r athletes might be put in separate events or allowed to compete beside cisgender opponents but with separate results and medals.

The proposal has met with opposition.

There might not be enough transgende­r females in a given school — or a given state — to form a soccer team or fill a 100-meter sprint field, LGBTQ advocates say. Adding lanes to a swimming race, for example, might have unintended consequenc­es.

“If you say, like, you can compete, but you can’t score or you’re in an extra lane nine, that’s very othering towards trans people,” Lia Thomas told ABC News. “And it is not offering them the same level of respect and opportunit­y to play and to compete.”

Chris Mosier, a transgende­r male triathlete and activist, agrees that sports influence how transgende­r people are treated in other areas of life. He finds it “heartbreak­ing” to quarrel with the likes of Navratilov­a and HogsheadMa­kar.

“These incredible women athletes who have had an impact on making sure that young women and girls can participat­e in sports — they have been on the right side of history in that way, but now have turned against the trans community,” he said.

Transgende­r advocates oppose any regulation before high school, when no college scholarshi­ps or state championsh­ips are at stake. The Women’s Sports Foundation goes a step further, calling for unrestrict­ed participat­ion through 12th grade.

All of this might sound reasonable to parents — until their cisgender daughter loses a race or a starting role to a transgende­r girl.

At her law office, Duffy fields calls from potential clients on both sides.

Years ago, as a student, she filed a Title IX complaint to create a women’s soccer team at the University of Connecticu­t but now doubts that federal law is the solution.

“The younger generation is much more open,” she said. “Get high school kids to come in and talk about it. They can probably figure it out.”

For all the disagreeme­nts over data, all the suspicions and hurt feelings, people on polar ends of the transgende­r issue remain optimistic. Hogshead-Makar hopes cooler heads will prevail and Harper trusts science to find a better metric.

Even Ivy has hope. Though the situation might “get worse before it gets better,” she expects transgende­r women to achieve equality someday.

Just like cisgender women did when they fought for Title IX 50 years ago.

‘There is very little doubt that the single most important differenti­ating factor between male athletes and female athletes is testostero­ne.’

— JOANNA HARPER, transgende­r runner and researcher

 ?? Rich von Biberstein Icon Sportswire via Getty Images ?? LIA THOMAS, a transgende­r swimmer at University of Pennsylvan­ia who won an NCAA title in March, says some proposed solutions on the participat­ion of such athletes are “not offering them the same level of respect and opportunit­y to play and to compete.”
Rich von Biberstein Icon Sportswire via Getty Images LIA THOMAS, a transgende­r swimmer at University of Pennsylvan­ia who won an NCAA title in March, says some proposed solutions on the participat­ion of such athletes are “not offering them the same level of respect and opportunit­y to play and to compete.”

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