Purple Diamonds: My Journey as a Trans Athlete — The Bright Side of Rainbow
By Keely Miyamoto
When I was five, I was going to play professional baseball. My lackluster navigation of the Tee Ball diamond and fleeting attention in the outfield made no difference: Boys could grow up to be baseball players, so I believed that I would, too.
I can still conjure the image of myself that I crafted then: Clad in the uniform of the (fictitious) Purple Diamonds, I drive to work in an army-green Jeep Wrangler, my then-dream-car. Adult-me is older — tall enough to set a travel mug on the Jeep’s roof while loading up — but otherwise physically analogous to my child-self.
Of course, things changed. I left baseball behind to join cross country. I inherited a hand-me-down beige SUV. I grew — vertically, yes, but also in other ways common to those assigned female at birth.
In this last respect, I was blindsided.
Biology eroded the self I had foreseen; the Purple Diamond faded. By thirteen, any ability to envision my future self eclipsed entirely.
Up to this point, I had remained fairly ignorant of representation. I knew it mattered, in theory, but I had never understood it in the context of my own experience. Then, I got Instagram.
Nurturing a love of distance running, I began following countless track and field accounts. It was here that I stumbled across Nikki Hiltz. Nikki, the American record holder in the outdoor mile and 2023 USA Indoor and Outdoor 1500m Champion, is openly nonbinary and transgender. They rock a mullet and run in split shorts, rather than the standard speedo-like racing bottoms. My first thought when I saw their pride-flag-draped profile photo: Holy crap, that’s me.
Granted, Nikki and I bore no outward resemblance then. I had long hair, wore whatever uniform was issued to the women’s team, and struggled to understand why I bristled every time someone called me “her.” But scrolling through Nikki’s photos, I still felt seen. In each shot of them surging across a finish line, jogging alongside their German Shepard, or embracing their partner, I caught a glimmer of the forgotten future me.
Some time later, after I had come out as trans and nonbinary, I similarly discovered Cal Calamia. Cal, the 2023 NYC Marathon Champion in the nonbinary division, identifies, like me, as transmasculine. In one memorable post, they, at twenty-seven and post-top-surgery, stand adjacent to a photo of their three-year-old self: “I am proud of who I was and I am proud of who I have become.” I imagine myself between the two of them — was and am and, at last, can be.
As a teenager grappling with disjunction between body and identity, I lost sight of myself. But in reflections amplified by those with kindred identities — Nikki, Cal, and others — I bore renewed witness to my own becoming. Today, the Purple Diamond absconds on trail runs, shirtless and sporting top surgery scars. As vividly now as when I was five, they are seen, known, and so very real.
About the Author
Keely Miyamoto is a second-year at Grinnell College. Keely’s passion for peer support led them to become a founding member of the Be-A-Friend Project’s Teen Kindness Board. They have also volunteered on the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline, as well as with Grinnell’s student-run SA/DV hotline. Keely identifies as transgender and nonbinary, and, as a collegiate student-athlete, they are especially invested in representation and inclusion in sports
About the Series:
‘The Bright Side of the Rainbow’ is a series written by Lilith Rengstorf and members of the Be a Friend Project. In the face of constant negativity, this series highlights queer positivity and personal stories of triumph. Writers discuss what makes them grateful to be queer, from drag shows to a special kind of joy only LGBTQ+ people can feel. Follow along on our journey!
