Accepting Myself as Well as Others
Disclaimer: For people who don’t think trans people belong in sports, this article is about you, but it’s not for you. Therefore, please keep your opinions to yourself, because I promise I’ve heard them all.
“Thanks, Captain,” I hurriedly tell Terrain, one of the team leaders, after practice.
“Oooooh, she called you Captain” one of the girls stage-whispers to her playfully.
None of the other girls, that I’ve seen, complete this thank-you ritual every night. After all, we’re fellow students in a university setting, so formality has long since fallen by the wayside. But beyond their well-earned gratitude for all they do, I have my own reasons for thanking so profusely: I never thought I could be on this team.
This year, I finally joined the Suburbia State Women’s Club Lacrosse Team (not actually lax, but for my privacy I’ll call it that), after a year of choosing not to play. It’s my first time on a truly women’s sports team of any kind, and it’s kind of magical. Am I the best player on the team? Hell no. I’m not bad, but I lack the experience and quickness of some of the veterans. But that doesn’t matter. Being on this team, playing with these fast and strong and amazing women, and being one of them, it’s all a dream come true.
Of course, you can’t experience dreams without the occasional nightmare. Here, the nightmare in question is the American public. An NPR/Ipsos poll showed that less than a quarter of adults “strongly or somewhat support” my right to be on this team, with over three-fifths in dissent. And that means, statistically, one of my teammates likely does not agree with my ability to play. Some of my opponents will disagree. A lot of people will think it unfair, even if I never score or force a turnover, for me to take up the roster spot and playing time that I will earn. So even as I come to practice with a smile on my face and live the life I wish I could have lived from the beginning, that poll, that statistic, the Lia Thomas debate, all of it stays at the back of my mind. It definitely has no plans to leave.
Being on a team with mostly non-queer women (or at least, people who don’t talk about their queerness here), there’s not really a lot of people to whom I can reach out when I feel this way. Except for you, Faceless Medium Community Member. Hence all the rants on this account. But what I’ve realized is that my teammates are doing the best thing possible, even though there are still times I need support. How does this work, you ask? They implicitly affirm my existence on the team every time I step onto the field — simply by not mentioning my transness. For, if they were to even allude to it, it would be a confirmation that I am different than everyone else on the team (I think, since there definitely could be trans folks on the team I don’t realize are trans). And, generally, if you’re different from everyone else in a specified group in one specific way, you are not completely in the group, especially if people consistently acknowledge that difference. Think of the token gay friend in countless teen movies. While there are certainly ways to acknowledge difference without othering, a lot of the time it is safest to let the “odd one out,” so to speak, mention their identity if they so choose. Not to mention that it could be outing me for them to mention my transness anyway. And, to the team’s credit, they have treated me as one of them in all senses of the word — included in conversations as well as treated normally in sleeping arrangements at tournaments — so there aren’t any problems there. I’m sure they would listen if I asked them to, and I can also go elsewhere for the support I may need. So, major props to the SSU lacrosse team for including me and easing some of my doubts about fitting in.
It’s worth going back to that NPR poll, though, because, no matter what I or the rest of the trans community say or want to believe, we all internalize that perspective to some extent. I’m over six feet tall, so it’s not like that isn’t an advantage in my chosen sports, and it’s unlikely that, had I been AFAB, I would have been as tall or indeed, tall at all (my mom is near average height). And while there are so many amazing feats that my teammates can do that I will never be able to complete, I also go back to the fact that I used to play sports with boys growing up. I briefly started for my Boys JV soccer team growing up. I actually played in Little League for five years and was consistently one of the better players for my age. Heck, until junior year I played competitive soccer on a couple of boys teams, often with overlapping schedules. So therefore, as my internalized transphobia points out, “Rose, you are a boy when it comes to sports.” And we are constantly told that men and boys are better than women and girls in the world of sports (source: so many men in r/NBA2k). So having undergone male hormones and puberty for many years, I have somewhat started to doubt (personally) my ability to fairly compete for women’s teams, despite my belief dictated by logic being that I should be allowed to play. It doesn’t help that I don’t know any other openly trans athletes at Suburbia State, and that trans people non-controversially existing in sports just hasn’t been normalized for me.
To be sure, I still want to play on women’s teams and believe strongly in our right to do so. Even if the source of my doubts (that trans women have unfair advantages) turns out to be true, I’ve written posts talking about that and strongly disputing that that should exclude us. That opinion won’t change. Trans women deserve to play on women’s teams, and I haven’t changed my mind about that. But it’s different when you’re playing. Even though I know the Suburbia State Trash Pandas never win tournaments. Even though it’s clear that we will not go to nationals this year. Even though this team is so much more about development and teamwork and fun than it could possibly be about beating other teams, seeing as they have years more experience than we do. Even when my team unequivocally accepts me. Even when nobody I’ve even talked to has said otherwise, I still struggle with it. I’m the luckiest girl in the world to be accepted like this, and yet little things like the NPR poll make it that much tougher for me to be a craptastic player on a mediocre team. All I want is to be a normal, average, girl. Ah, well. I’ll see you when we finally win a freaking tournament.
All the love,
Rose
