Chel-sea! Chel-sea! Chel-sea," echoed from the stands as fellow athletes rallied their support for me, knowing the enormous disadvantage I faced through no fault of my own.Two fleeting thoughts hit me before the gun went off: I thought of all the times I, and my female teammates, had lost to those two biological male runners before.And then, as the adrenaline pumped in my blood, I felt a surge of hope and my last thought was, maybe, just maybe, I could pull out a win.The gun went off.
And 12.02 seconds later, I crossed the finish line—second. I came in behind one of the male athletes who clocked an 11.93 sprint.
I lost the race.I was the fastest girl, but I couldn't beat the stronger, faster biological male who stood atop the winner's podium that day.Losing a state championship is hard—but losing because the race isn't fair is gut-wrenching.This all started because the Connecticut Interscholastic Athletic Conference adopted a policy that allows biological males who identify as female to compete in girls' athletic events.I was just 15 years old the first time I was forced to line up between those two athletes in the starting blocks.Twenty-seven times during my high school career, all four years, I had to return to the line and settle into blocks next to first one, then two biologically male athletes to run a race that everyone knew wasn't fair.I lost podium spots, awards, recognition, and four state championship titles during my junior year—the time when it was most crucial for college recruitment.
I also lost two All-New England awards to the biologically male athletes.It was heartbreaking. I never won a single race when I had to compete against both biologically male runners.My teammates and I watched those two athletes.