In the biophysical research community, trans* bodies have existed to be prodded and poked at, dissected and disposed of. In the sports world, an identity prefixed by “trans” is to be removed at all costs. In the midst of these violations, I feel a need to stop and ask, where is empathy when it comes to the treatment of trans* athletes? With the increase in both anti-trans* athletic policies as well as anti-trans* sentiment in sport more broadly, there is a notable lack of research giving voice to the affected athlete population.
The areas of gender-based violence and safe-sport research are fairly novel to the field of kinesiology, still holding a focus on violence against women and girls. As a trans* former athlete, I felt completely unrepresented in the research produced by my faculty of study, even within safe-sport conversations. While I had previously published an article looking at gender-based violence against a trans* powerlifter using archival data from social media comments, there was a critical gap in the data: the perspective of the athlete who faced this online abuse. I proposed a new independent research study to my Vice Dean, looking at experiences of gender-based violence faced by trans* athletes, competitively, or non-competitively through oral interviews.
The significance of this study does not only lie with the academic platform given to trans* folks to tell their stories using their voices, but also with how the research was conducted by a queer and trans* person (me!). Trans* oral histories researched from within the community create a sense of safety and belonging that is lacking from the outsider approach. For these athletes, there was no doubt that I had their best interest in mind, and that their narratives would be more than just trauma porn. The experiences of violence faced by trans* folks are not just traumatic events, but are repetitive and intentional efforts designed to undermine and invalidate their identities. As a trans* person, I know this pain — it was this pain that necessitated my research question and the desire to listen to as many trans* folks as were willing to get involved.
By the end of the data collection period, I had sat down with five different athletes, each for an hour-long interview discussing their experiences of transphobia in their respective sports. For these athletes, a majority of the gender-based violence they faced was triggered and compounded by other axes of oppression including racism, fatphobia, and ableism. The oral nature of these interviews captured both the essences of pain and perseverance beyond just the words they spoke. From their unapologetic genuineness to their lightheartedness and bright spirits, these athletes established themselves as fixed members of sport communities; unfazed by expectations of passive victimhood.
Whether in recreational or competitive sport spaces, each of these athletes had experienced extensive transphobia that went unresolved by their respective governing structures when reported. For many of the participants, they faced the ultimatum of participating in sport and enduring the inevitable gender-based violence, or removing themselves from sport regardless of their desire to stay active. Sport became a contentious arena of silencing and invalidation as the price for inclusion. Despite being left behind by these structures, the athletes refused to minimize their voices and experiences without a fight.
For me and other trans* folks, these stories are not novel, nor are they unique to the five individuals in the study. Within the community, we are often too aware of the violence that can be, and has been, experienced because of our trans* identities.
The narratives of these five athletes break the barrier within the safe-sport discipline that has cast aside trans* trauma. For the sport structures that maintain their discrimination and defense of violence against trans* folks, these accounts serve to discredit the validity and ethics of exclusionary policies. Just because these athletes speak to their experiences in the past, the present norm in sport is still that of cisheteropatriarchy and gender binarism which perpetuate ongoing violence against trans* athletes. As sport policies and environments are socially constructed, they have the ability to evolve and adapt in the face of new athlete testimony that reveal their problematic and harmful nature.
Raiya Taha-Thomure (they/them) is a queer non-binary Muslim Arab settler currently finishing their undergraduate degree in kinesiology at the University of Toronto. Their current research interests lie with the study of queer theory and the navigation of identity within various spaces (sport, Muslim spaces, Arab community). When Raiya isn’t doing schoolwork, they can be found crocheting or taking a nap with their cat, Za’atar.