Transgender Women in Sport: Why the Science and Rules Keep Changing

Transgender Women in Sport: Why the Science and Rules Keep Changing

If you’ve spent any time on social media or watching cable news lately, you’ve probably seen the firestorm. It’s unavoidable. The debate over transgender women in sport is arguably the most polarized topic in modern athletics. It’s messy. It’s loud. Honestly, it often feels like people are shouting past each other without actually looking at the data or the human beings in the middle of it all.

We need to get real for a second. This isn’t just about "fairness" or "inclusion" in the abstract. It’s about specific biology, evolving policy, and the lived reality of athletes like Lia Sullivan, Alana McLaughlin, and Laurel Hubbard.

For a long time, the sports world operated on a pretty simple rule set. If a trans woman suppressed her testosterone for a year, she was good to go. But that’s changing. Fast. International governing bodies are moving away from that one-size-fits-all approach, and the reasons why are more complicated than a thirty-second soundbite can explain.

The Science of the "Advantage" (And What We’re Still Learning)

Let’s talk about the elephant in the room: male puberty. This is where the core of the disagreement lies.

When a person goes through a typical male puberty, their body undergoes massive structural changes. We’re talking about increased bone density, larger lung capacity, and different skeletal geometry—specifically narrower hips, which allows for more efficient running mechanics. Most scientists, like Dr. Joanna Harper (a trans runner and researcher herself) and Dr. Emma Hilton, agree that while hormone therapy reduces muscle mass and hemoglobin levels, it doesn't "reset" the skeleton.

That’s a huge sticking point.

Hormone therapy is powerful. It basically brings a trans woman’s red blood cell count—which carries oxygen to muscles—down to levels typical for cisgender women within months. This is why many trans athletes report feeling "slower" or "weaker" after transitioning. However, the legacy of that initial testosterone surge remains in the frame. A 2020 study published in British Journal of Sports Medicine by researchers Roberts, Ryzkiewicz, and Sahrabian found that even after two years of testosterone suppression, trans women in the U.S. Air Force maintained a 12% faster running speed than their cisgender counterparts.

But it isn't a slam dunk case. Biology is weird.

Every sport requires different things. Being tall and having a large wingspan is a massive advantage in basketball or swimming, but it’s a literal drag in gymnastics or long-distance cycling where power-to-weight ratios are everything. We often treat "sport" as one single thing, but the advantage a trans woman might have in a sprint is totally different from what she might have in a marathon.

World Aquatics and the Great Policy Shift

In 2022, the landscape shifted beneath everyone's feet. World Aquatics (formerly FINA) dropped a bombshell. They decided that transgender women could only compete in the female category if they could prove they had not experienced any part of male puberty.

Basically? They drew a line in the sand at age twelve.

This was a massive departure from the old IOC (International Olympic Committee) guidelines. It signaled a move toward "biological prioritization" over "identity-based inclusion." World Athletics followed suit shortly after. Sebastian Coe, the president of World Athletics, was blunt about it: he argued that when fairness and inclusion collide, sports bodies must protect the female category.

It’s worth noting that these decisions weren't made in a vacuum. They came after Lia Thomas became the first openly transgender athlete to win an NCAA Division I national championship in swimming. The backlash was immense. Some teammates supported her; others, like Riley Gaines, became vocal critics, eventually testifying before Congress.

This created a ripple effect. Now, we see a fractured world. On one side, you have sports like powerlifting and rugby—where the risk of injury or the sheer physical disparity is high—implementing strict bans. On the other, you have grassroots organizations trying to figure out how to keep kids playing without making them feel like outcasts.

💡 You might also like: Willian Borges da Silva: The Chelsea Legend Who Kept Winning Long After People Counted Him Out

It’s Not Just About Medals

Sometimes we forget that most people playing sports aren't at the Olympics.

They’re in beer leagues. They're on high school tracks. They're just trying to get a scholarship to a state school. For a trans girl in a small town, being told she can't play with her friends isn't about "biological advantage." It’s about social isolation.

The human element here is staggering. Transgender women in sport face levels of scrutiny that would break most people. Imagine your every workout, your every physical measurement, and your entire medical history being a national debate. It’s grueling.

The "Open Category" is the newest buzzword. World Aquatics tried to launch one at a World Cup event in Berlin in 2023. The goal was to give trans athletes a place to compete without the "fairness" controversy.

It failed. Zero entries.

Why? Because athletes want to compete against their peers. They want to be part of the community they identify with. Creating a "special" category often feels like a polite way of saying "you don't belong here."

What the Data Actually Says (And Doesn't Say)

We have a data problem. We really do.

📖 Related: Where to Watch the LA Rams Game Live Without Getting Ripped Off

Most studies on trans athletes are done on "non-athlete" trans people. It’s hard to find a statistically significant group of elite-level trans women to study because, frankly, there aren't many of them. If trans women had such a massive, insurmountable advantage, you’d expect them to be winning everything. They aren't.

Since the IOC allowed trans athletes to compete in 2004, we’ve seen exactly one openly trans woman compete in an individual event at the Olympics: Laurel Hubbard. She didn't medal. She didn't even complete her lifts in the final.

That doesn't mean the advantage doesn't exist, but it suggests that "advantage" is not the same thing as "guaranteed victory." Success in sports is a cocktail of genetics, coaching, socioeconomic status, and sheer grit.

In the U.S., this has moved from the locker room to the courtroom. Title IX—the landmark law that prevents sex-based discrimination in education—is being reinterpreted by different administrations. The Biden administration sought to protect trans students, while dozens of Republican-led states have passed laws specifically banning trans women and girls from female sports.

It’s a jurisdictional nightmare. A girl might be eligible to play in one state but banned the moment she crosses a border for a regional meet.

Nuance is Dying

The hardest part about this whole thing is that there are no "villains" here, despite what the internet tells you.

  • Cisgender female athletes who want a level playing field aren't necessarily bigots. They are protecting a category that took decades of activism to establish.
  • Transgender women who want to compete aren't "cheats." They are athletes who want to participate in the sport they love as their authentic selves.

When you strip away the politics, you’re left with a fundamental conflict of rights. The right to inclusion versus the right to fair competition. Both are valid. Both are important.

The Reality of 2026 and Beyond

As we move deeper into the decade, expect the "sport-by-sport" approach to become the standard. The days of a single policy covering everything from archery to MMA are over.

We are also seeing a massive push for more "longitudinal" research. We need to follow trans athletes over five, ten, fifteen years to see how their bodies actually perform. Until then, we’re mostly making educated guesses based on small sample sizes.

If you're looking for a simple answer, you're not going to find one. The inclusion of transgender women in sport is a "wicked problem"—one where every solution creates a new set of challenges.

Actionable Steps for Navigating the Space

Whether you're a coach, an athlete, or just a concerned fan, here is how you can actually engage with this topic without losing your mind or spreading misinformation:

1. Follow the specific governing body, not the headlines. If you’re involved in cycling, look at the UCI’s specific rules. If you’re in rowing, look at World Rowing. Rules are now hyper-specific to the physiological demands of each sport. Don’t assume what happens in swimming applies to golf.

2. Distinguish between elite and recreational levels. The stakes of the Olympic finals are not the same as a local 5K. Many experts suggest that "inclusion" should be the priority at the youth and recreational levels, while "fairness" takes center stage at the professional level.

3. Look at the peer-reviewed research. Avoid "think pieces" that don't cite their sources. Look for names like Dr. Blair Hamilton or the work coming out of the Canadian Centre for Ethics in Sport (CCES), which recently published a massive review of the available literature.

4. Check your language. Using terms like "biological male" in a sporting context is often technically what's being debated (in terms of the frame), but using "transgender woman" acknowledges the person's identity. Accuracy in terminology helps lower the temperature of the conversation.

5. Advocate for more funding for female sports. Ironically, the debate over trans inclusion has shone a massive spotlight on how underfunded women's sports have been historically. Regardless of where you stand on trans issues, everyone can agree that better facilities, more coaching, and more data for female athletes is a win.

The conversation is far from over. It’s going to keep evolving as new athletes emerge and new studies are published. Stay curious, stay empathetic, and keep looking at the data.