Thank you for inviting me to speak about the effect of Lia Thomas and women’s swimming. I’m grateful for the chance to share how this experience unfolded and impacted our family. I would like to make it clear that I’m anonymous at the request of my daughter, and I’m honoring that request to protect my relationship with her. So, before I begin, I have to say how much I miss the world I thought I was living in just a few short months ago. But then, I’m glad I’m not living obliviously any longer.
Lia caught my attention at the start of the swim season as I was glancing at the early season meet results. Having been a swim parent at regional, national, and international swim competitions for the past decade and a half, I’m pretty familiar with the names of the top swimmers. A 146, 200 free, in a practice [suit?] at this time of the year was eye-popping for anyone. An obvious future NCAA qualifier, likely an NCAA score. It didn’t take much digging to figure out that Lia Thomas was Will Thomas, a man who swam on the men’s team at Penn for three years, but was now swimming with the women. I remember being stunned that this was happening, and even more stunned that it had gone unreported and un-whispered among top [lips?] among the swimming community.
A little history for those unaware, prior to renaming, Will was a respectable Ivy League swimmer, finishing 2nd at Conference in the distance events of 500 thousand and 1650 yard freestyle. Will was not a NCAA Champion swimmer. In fact, Will was not even fast enough to be… not ev-not even fast enough in the 200 free, to be one of the four men on Penn’s team, selected for the men’s 4x200 yard relay, a relay that in its own right didn’t come close to qualifying for NCAA, and finished 4th out of 18s in the Ivy League in 2019.
The next phone call that I had with my daughter after I learned this, I mentioned Lia, and asked her if she was aware of the situation. She wasn’t. She quietly said, “That’s not fair.” And the disappointment in her voice was clear. But she perked up and said, “I am sure they will figure this out when everyone understands.” Oh… How I wish her faith in those that have the power to make change had been well-placed.
Fast forward a few weeks to the mid-seasons travel meets, where Lia posted the fastest time in the country among women, faster than NCAA winning times for the previous year, and faster than all our Olympians still racing in women’s collegiate swimming. All of a sudden, everyone but the major news network was talking. Among Lia’s… [cough] among the swimming families that I know, it was on the tip of everyone’s tongue. No one could believe the insanity. I talked with families far and wide who were curious about what was happening in the Ivy League.
I called a lawyer that I knew at the ACLU to ask how the law, women’s rights, and Title IX might be handled in a case like this. I was trying to be respectful in my language, using “transwomen” and “biological women” to differentiate, and tried to use requested pronouns. I made clear that I did not want to offend, but pleaded that it seemed there was an obvious conflict here for women who already have so much less opportunities in sport, now have to give spaces away to individuals who identified as women.
I was met with the single most stunning response I’ve ever received on any issue. I was told that the words “biological” and “genetic” have no business being in a discussion around sex and gender. I was told transwomen are women, they’re female, they’re girls. No language that minimizes that point should be tolerated. I was told that it was an offensive question, my language was out of date. I was told that sex and gender are equally important, and that the ACLU is actively removing sex from legal documentations and legal language. I tried to gently prod at the preposterous arguments I was hearing, and I was met with an absolute brick wall when she concluded with, “Let me tell you with certainty: The ACLU will never represent cis women against women.”
I didn’t sleep that night. [Incredulous laugh.] The wool… the wool had been utterly striped from my eyes. I now understood. And when I shared this with my mother-in-law the next day, she said, “Well, there you go. We’re literally flying the plane upside-down now. Aren’t we?”
The next morning, my education began. I woke up determined to figure out what had gone wrong. What did I miss? I started researching feminism. I read JK Rowling’s statement. Read court history and medical papers. I started writing emails to politicians. I ordered books online and read every article I could find. I could not bear to see women’s sports redefined and reworked, to no longer be a place for women to pursue and celebrate their physical limits without comparing themselves to men.
While I was reading, my daughter and the rest of the girls in the Ivy League were getting another kind of education. The kind no one should receive. The Ivy League released their statement, literally dripping with sexism. I quote, “The Ivy League releases the following statement of support regarding Penn’s Lia Thomas’s participation on the women’s swimming and diving team. Over the past several years, Lia and the University of Pennsylvania had been working with the NCAA to follow all the appropriate protocols in order to comply with the NCAA policy in transgender athlete participation to compete on the Penn women’s swimming and diving team. The Ivy League has adopted and applies the same NCAA policy. The Ivy League reaffirms its unwavering commitment to providing an inclusive environment for all student athletes while condemning transphobia and discrimination in any form. The League welcomes her participation in the sport of women’s swimming and diving, and looks forward to celebrating the success of all of our student athletes throughout the season.”
My daughter screenshotted the message and sent it to me. “I’m so confused,” was the text that I received. But not to worry. The schools were ready and prepared to address any confusion their athletes might have. Mandatory meetings were called, with scripts read off by coaches from the Athletic Department, or in some cases, handed out. The girls, already caught off-guard and intimidated but upset, were now silenced. They were manipulated, coerced, and emotionally blackmailed. They were told their League and their schools have spoken, and made their position clear. They, as athletes, had made the decision to be a part of these schools and this League, and they needed to support it. They were told if they had opinions, or were asked to speak, they had to clear it through their coaches and their Athletic Department leaders. This was also for their own protection, as no one wants their team [slummed?] through the mud. Finally, they were told their first priority needed to be the safety and protection of their trans classmate, who were being thrusted into the media. Any harm or damage that befell their classmate due to expressing opinions that might not support them would be their responsibility.
Work done! Message received. Now, there was little to no chance they would speak out. I know girls from Harvard, Penn, Yale, and Dartmouth. They all received various versions of this same message.
After these meetings, I spoke to my daughter. The influence was clear. She thought that was completely unfair that Lia was competing. She confirmed that almost all the girls did, and they spoke about it amongst themselves. She said there had been talks of one team of girls boycotting their dual meet, and some of the faster girls from other schools wanting to sit on the blocks in direct races with Lia. But those ideas were disappearing. She wanted no part of being hated on her campus. No part of hurting people that she knew. And no part of being embarrassingly kicked off her team. She said the instructions she got were to extend to the families of the swimmers. I said, “Hell, no!” We agreed I would do my best to stay anonymous.
There were still conversations among the mothers as the girls prepared for dual meets. How are you helping your daughter? What is she telling you? What should I tell my girl? I know that my daughter took two days to emotionally prepare to race Lia. She spent the days writing down her thoughts, working through her emotions, trying to mentally prepare standing in front of a crowd next to a man, where everyone present knew the race was unfair, but no one would speak. She knew she would not win. [Mother began to tear up, and would talk through tears on and off from this point on to the end.] But this was not about shame in losing. This was about being asked to measure her worth as a female athlete next to a pharmaceutically hamstrung man who would make her look like a child. Yep, she worked through how to shake hands at the end of the race, and how to make sure she wouldn’t cry—something I’m apparently not doing.
She also worked through how many towels to take in her bag into the locker room in case she needed to cover herself completely as she changed. All the girls knew Lia was still physically intact and had been using the locker rooms. It turned out that stress was not necessary as Lia used another locker room space during the meet. But it came up again for Ivy Championship, where the girls usually share a space for all the teams. I asked my daughter what she would do if Lia was changing in there. And she said resignedly, “I’m not sure I have a choice.”
I still can’t believe I had to tell my adult-aged daughter, “You always have a choice about whether you undress in front of a man.” What messages have these girls been receiving this year? How many other girls were feeling this? My heart was ripped apart. Damage far greater than the sports arena was now apparent to me. After the Ivy League released its statement, the NCAA released their own, washing their hands of any responsibility of women’s sport by deferring to the governing body of each sport, as they said, immediately. The USA Swimming quickly put together a policy. It appeared it would limit Lia’s participation. While still couched in language that didn’t clearly define sex or women, the relief among the girls and the parents was palpable. That relief was not long-lasting, as the NCAA quickly reneged on its word, stating the new USA Swimming policy would not be implemented this year. They argued that doing so would be unfair to athletes already training for the season.
Unfair. To whom? It appeared the concern for fairness only extended to the lone male athlete participating. Misogyny and the worth of women confirmed. At this point, I had openly spoken with mothers across the Ivy League, swim parents across the country, friends involved with high-level sports with their daughters, neighbors, and former elite athletes from all walks of life, all races and all political backgrounds. I had yet to run into someone who wasn’t outraged. And indeed, several other parents confronting the same issue with their daughters in younger club-level competitions. Everyone thought Lia’s participation was wrong and humiliating. In safe conversation, parents didn’t know what to do, but they still talked freely. While their daughters, especially as the season progressed, grew clearly more uncomfortable discussing the topic. Like my daughter, the girls want to put their heads down, wish it away, and plow through as bravely as they could. I know there are a few girls on the Penn team that support Lia, and I know several that signed the petition circulated by Pink Mantaray. Schulyler Bailar, the former female swimmer that transitioned and participated on the Harvard men’s team, who now earns a living as a trans consultant. That petition was widely reported to be supporting Lia’s participation in the media, but it was more of a request to not change the rules mid-season. Every girl on my daughter’s team was asked to sign it, as were most of the girls on teams in the Ivy League. Hardly any did. A small act of free will.
A few weeks later, Ivy Championship was underway. A huge banner was draped behind the starting block that read “8 Against Hate”, referring to the eight Ivy League schools. And every team was given t-shirts with the same message. Several teams were required to wear it. I know many of us desperately wanted to rewrite that logo with “8 Agreed to Discriminate”. The warmups would begin. The announcer reading his monologue at the beginning of every session, “The Ivy League condemns all forms of transphobia,” and went on from there. Not a word about sexism in the message. It was a warning: Don’t say one thing perceived as transphobic, but women deserve the abuse they’re receiving, and should stay silent when confronted with their schools and their League robbing them of opportunities and fair treatment.
Supporting the girls had begun to feel like it had taken on an element of rot. A sickening twist in our stomach as we took our places in the stands, determined to cheer our daughters on as best we could. The joy of the meet was spoiled from the onset, but we couldn’t bring ourselves to let our girls face this alone. Day after day, we watched as a young lady was replaced in the final swim, replaced on the podium, erased from a record, a relay spot, and finally replaced for swim [unclear] meet by a man. A six-foot-four man with a back twice as wide as any one of the girls out there. A man that didn’t appeared to put forth full effort in all of the races.
In reflection, there were a few bright spots. Several beautiful swims, young women accomplishing some amazing things, and one big highlight. On the last night of the meet, when no one was in danger of being kicked out of participation, the distance free girls who had raced Lia all season finally had a race to themselves in the final of the 1650. The one race in the meet where the girls all knew beforehand who was competing, and had a chance to talk to each other across multiple teams. They all marched out, holding hands from the ready room around the pool, and all the way behind the blocks. I have never seen this in a meet. It had never been done. It was a message. It was silent, but it was a message: We support each other.
I wish the women had responded collectively and angrily as soon as the news of Lia had broken. I wish that seas of people were too incensed to standby, and had protested outside of the athletic departments and presidents’ offices at universities. I wish that power and numbers had turned the tide against silence. I wish that society was in a place where it would recognize the effects of this run deeper than one person. I wish that people knew the ACLU’s current stands, and the danger of mangling the meanings of words that defined women. I wish that women, and men for that matter, were not in a place where we had to defend ourselves from the absurd idea that men can be women, that men can compete as women. I cannot believe that we are having to argue that women and girls deserve to be able to get dressed and undressed without men in their locker rooms.
Now, more teams and more women across the country will race against Lia at NCAAs. I want this to go away, but I need it to stay in the limelight and in the news. Now that I see it, now that I know, I desperately want people to wake up to the world we’re creating for women.
