Trans Panic and the Courage of Laurel Hubbard
Laurel Hubbard deserves a medal for her character alone.
[For those who want to listen to this on-the-go, the audio version should be up on Apple’s podcast website soon. You can also listen here.]
On Tuesday, Laurel Hubbard became the first openly-transgender woman to compete at an Olympic Games. Hubbard—who has been flooded with online hatred and public criticism by social conservatives for her participation and the target of spurious claims about the unfairness of her inclusion—not only didn’t medal but failed to place at all with a qualifying score.
That doesn’t surprise those of us who follow trans and non-binary athletes at every level of competition. For all the histrionic panic on this issue, particularly over the past year, Hubbard’s courageous and ultimately underwhelming performance is now the most notable example of the sheer lack of evidence to support trans-exclusionary policies in sports.
Hubbard’s participation is not due to a recent change in policy.
Since 2003, following extensive consultation with physicians and sports scientists, the International Olympic Committee has permitted the participation of openly-trans athletes in events that align with their authentic gender identity, provided they meet strict guidelines.
In all the time since then—including four Summer Olympics and four Winter Olympics—no openly-trans person had competed.
Only three such athletes qualified for Tokyo, only two of them competed (the third, non-binary skateboarder Alana Smith, who uses they/them, was an alternate), and only one medaled.
Quinn, a non-binary athlete who also uses they/them pronouns and goes only by their first name, plays on the Canadian National Women’s Football Team, which won their gold medal match on Friday.
And yet, for the ninth consecutive Olympic Games—spanning 17 years of this trans-inclusive policy—no trans or non-binary athlete who was assigned “male” at birth has earned a medal.
These guidelines are so strict that even non-trans athletes are affected: Caster Semenya, Christine Mboma, and Beatrice Masilingi—all cisgender women (that is, assigned female at birth)—have been disqualified for their naturally-occurring hormonal levels. It’s important to note they’re also Black women, underlining a pattern of cruel and discriminatory behavior toward Black women athletes, especially in this Olympics.
The lack of reason in targeting trans athletes at the highest levels of sport further highlights the absurdity of the past seven months, during which lawmakers in nearly three dozen states have introduced bills banning trans kids from participation in sports at any age. Proponents argue it’s a basic question of fairness in competition – that trans girls take away opportunities from cis girls.
The problem with that argument is that it severely lacks evidence. In early March, David Crary and Lindsay Whitehurst of the Associated Press reached out to the sponsoring Republican lawmakers of legislation like this introduced in more than 20 states and asked a simple question: could they identify where this had been a problem in their state?
In response to almost every query, sponsoring lawmakers could provide no examples.
The few responses provided—from Montana and Mississippi—pointed out-of-state to Connecticut, more than a thousand miles away, where two trans young women running high school track won several competitions and in response, the families of three cis young women filed a lawsuit against the state. The day after it was filed, one of those cis young women beat one of the trans young women in the final race of the season.
She won a track and field scholarship at William & Mary. The two trans young women were not offered scholarships.
That’s not surprising. Since 2011, the NCAA has had a trans-inclusive participation policy that essentially requires trans women in college who wish to compete in sanctioned events to undergo hormonal therapy for at least a year prior to competing. In the ten years since that policy was implemented, hundreds of thousands of young women have received an athletic scholarship at the D-1 level, the highest tier in college athletics. There is no record of any openly-trans woman receiving a college athletic scholarship. Ever.
It is also clear that openly trans athletes competing at the high school and college levels are profoundly rare. According to the NCAA, nearly eight million young people currently compete in high school athletics. Yet, Crary and Whitehurse struggled to find openly-trans athletes in high school because they’re so uncommon: this year, no more than five in Kansas and over the past five years, no more than nine total in Ohio, just to give two examples.
Last month, the NCAA Board of Governors released an unyielding statement on trans inclusion in college athletics, asserting that it “firmly and unequivocally supports the opportunity for transgender student-athletes to compete in college sports”.
Prominent cis women athletes like Billie Jean King, Megan Rapinoe, and Candace Parker—among many others—have denounced bans against trans children in sports and made it clear they believe trans girls belong on girls sports teams.
Feminist organizations like the National Women’s Law Center and the Feminist Majority Foundation have also publicly slammed the bans and asserted their support for young trans athletes.
Laurel Hubbard’s moment of character and grace should have been a moment for all of us to celebrate, especially trans and non-binary children. Society is full of people—myself included—who feel sports have the power to bring out the best in us. Sports reporter Jane McManus may have put it best: “Sports is the reward of a functioning society.”
It’s still unclear if we’re seeing a functional society or the best of anyone beyond the likes of athletes like Hubbard. When asked for comment following her disappointing performance in the event, she graciously praised others and reasserted that “sport is something for all people”, thanking the IOC for their trans-inclusive policies.
I’m not convinced the world of sports deserves her.
Hi, I’m Charlotte Clymer, and this is Charlotte’s Web Thoughts, my Substack. It’s completely free to access and read, but if you feel so moved to support my writing, please consider upgrading to a paid subscription: just $7/month or save money with the $70/annual sub. You can also go way above and beyond by becoming a Founding Member at $210.
You can also follow my work on Twitter.