Disclaimer: Within this work, there will be writing of various topics that may trigger some readers such as bullying, general transphobia, discussion of self-harm, threats of violence, and more. Names of people, teams, and other things may be censored by a pseudonym, label, or general term (i.e 'Person A', 'Team 2', 'Former friend' ). This is speaking exclusively on my experience as a trans athlete, and everyone's story is vastly different; do not use my story to generalize the experiences of trans athletes. Do not seek out anyone within this story to expose personal information.
Often I find myself asking one question whenever defending myself: "Are you a trans athlete?". I've spent the past few years watching constant articles on trans athletes. Almost all of them come from people outside the sport- hell they're usually not involved in sports either. Yet with all of this, they claim that their knowledge of it is better than ours. So I'd like to throw my experience in as a trans athlete; the good, the bad, and how I live now. I don't want to treat my experience as the definitive experience. Each person's athletic experience is unique and complex. This is purely to talk about how I've adjusted & how being an athlete impacted my transition.
I started swimming when I was very young. My parents had seen some articles on it being good for ADHD kids and since I wouldn't function in any other sport they started sending me to a team every week. I don't remember much of my early years on my first team, but I didn't really like it. I always felt out of place since I was new to swimming, and I felt out of place in general. Despite my discomfort, I grew to enjoy swimming. I started getting excited every day to go swimming, and I started to love it. I'd go 6 days a week, and sometimes even go for fun on Sundays to just work on technique. I was known for being a swimmer more than anything else, and it was usually the first thing I'd mention if I was asked to talk about myself.
This continued for several years, and I began to put more and more energy into it. At this point, I had moved teams and had two wonderful coaches that both put their all into coaching. One coach was very calm and composed; he only said what he had to say, but was passionate. He'd work with me and every other swimmer to perfect our technique. I remember spending my Sundays with him often drilling me down on how my technique needed more work. The other coach was much more energetic. I was immediately drawn to him even with our differences and disagreements. He always kept the energy high and believed in the best in all of us. One thing he would always say stuck out to me, "You are the number one version of yourself".
He'd always thought this, and he'd mention it if anyone ever tried to mock him for what he did; if he danced on the deck, or painted his nails, he didn't care. He is the number one version of himself, just like he says and I still live by those words. It's a great reminder of how unique we all really end up being, even if we do the same sport and swim the same practices. His behavior and ideas in part contributed to why I was able to finally come out. When I was starting my transition I'd show him all the makeup I'd tried and what my (at the moment) girlfriend had introduced me to. He loved it, always thought it was so cool, and would ask questions. He saw me finally growing into myself and encouraged it. I still find myself sending him photos of how I'm doing every so often because I want him to know how much his passion impacted me.
By then though, I was heading into university, and I still planned to swim. While all of this was happening I was constantly facing headlines of various trans athletes and how ruthless the media was. It was terrifying. I developed nightmares about it that lasted for a few months. I saw violence and hate speech wherever I went online. I watched some of my current (now former) teammates reposting and encouraging this intense baseless hate. I couldn't believe that I was surrounded by athletes who would hate me the second they found out. Some posts were more drastic than others. It became so painful as I had to watch people online target random women and harass them relentlessly, purely because they were trans. It was endless. Article after article. The one that hurt the most was when I saw someone I had cared so deeply for posting this hateful rhetoric. Before all of this, I had met him when I was training on my own and began to talk to him and help him with his technique. He began to improve and I even got him to join the team that I was on. And now I saw him posting against my very identity. I didn't even bother trying to argue with him about it, I couldn't take it. I just slowly exited from his life. It wasn't worth pushing through the pain I was already enduring.
I found that it made me develop hate for myself too. I became convinced that I was transitioning to gain an advantage in a sport that at this point I was only doing out of a passion for the sport. I wasn't on hormones, I wasn't swapping to women's swimming, and yet I thought I was evil. I couldn't even imagine how it feels to actually medically transition and feel that very hate directed specifically toward you. I found that I experienced thoughts of self-harm and even considered at one point taking my own life. All of these negative feelings consumed me, purely over enjoying something I was passionate about before I even began transitioning.
All of these feelings stuck with me as I began to head to college. I was terrified that as I approached joining the new team, I wouldn't belong. That I wouldn't be welcomed. I had let myself endure the endless stream of negative articles and had decided I was something to hate, and I wanted to reduce that feeling as much as possible. I convinced myself that I'd avoid taking hormones till I finished swimming. From the perspective of myself and my therapist, if any form of media found out, they'd latch onto it no matter what. It wouldn't matter if I was first place or 50th, I'd still be in their eyes a cheater and a fraud. I still see it as a sacrifice. I'm not some insanely talented swimmer, I just enjoy it. But I know if I continued to swim while taking hormones, if any form of media saw it, they would demonize me as someone "cheating the system" even if I came in dead last.
So I started swimming, I met the team and Introduced myself. I had already met a bunch of them before I came out, so most had been reintroduced to me under my new name. The entire team is wonderful, and they made me feel loved. I never found that I was dead named or misgendered by my teammates; hell, some of my teammates reacted in shock when they had to hear me say my dead name when calling about medications. Even though all of this, part of me still felt unloved. I had let the media get to me, and had pushed myself away from engaging in women's team activities out of fears that were created by a relentless media environment. I felt so sheepish and weird when I asked to join the women's team group chat because I hadn't initially been put in it. I felt wrong asking for that, and why wouldn't I? I'd figured out I was trans maybe 6 months ago, and this was the first month of being openly out. All I knew were false media portrayals. I had let the media convince me I was a monster for being a trans athlete. That I was predatory and just faking it for an advantage. And yet I didn't get a response that made me feel like one. They told me of course and added me, immediately letting me know that there was gonna be a women's team event next week and I should come. I wasn't invading a space I didn't belong in, I was finally opening a door to somewhere that I always was meant to be in. While I may compete on the men's team still, I am a part of the women's team culturally, although most things overlap.
While this helps a lot, I still struggle with swimming. There are many factors but one big one is my body. I had always had issues with my body, it's why I became so passionate about swimming. I thought all the training would make me love my body, but it never looked like what I wanted. While outside the pool I wear what makes me the most comfortable, once I step into the water there's only so much I can do. It's hard to fight it mentally, and I definitely would have quit swimming now if not for the support I have. The dread of knowing I could quit and start hormones tears at me, but I'd lose swimming. No one should have to choose to sacrifice part of their identity and comfort for something any cis person could do. Yet here I am, terrified to take a step toward my future, because of the media.
I'm not going to quit swimming though. I love my team, and I love the sport. It hurts to hate my body, but I know I'm more than that. Every time I'm on deck with my team I know that. I'm a trans athlete, and I have my own experience with it. Everyone else has their own unique experience, but it all boils down to the same mindset. We're willing to sacrifice our comfort (and for some, our safety) to continue something we've been passionate about. We're able to fight a system afraid of nuance and smile at how far we've come. We don't transition to 'gain the system', we transition because we figure out who we are. For the first time, I feel alive when I race, despite how far I am from the talent I used to have. I'm not the swimmer I was back then when I trained under those two coaches, but I'm truly my number one self.
A note about athletes currently on hormones:
While I have made the choice to not start hormones while still competing, that is not to say that anyone who has is wrong for doing so. No matter what someone decides to do in their transition, that's purely up to them. I am personally sacrificing part of myself to not start hormones. Plenty of trans athletes still compete while on hormones. Most of them never achieve that top level, because it's already so hard to compete at a high level as a cis athlete, and trans athletes make up such a small percentage that it's very rare we even make an appearance at the higher level.
Trans athletes aren't "taking over", we're barely there to begin with. Next time you see an article on a trans athlete, learn about what their training is like. They're insanely hard-working and talented, just like any cis athlete. Although mentally, they're stronger than any cis athlete could be.