I should have been feeling good; after all, I was at the top of my game.
I had just run the 100-meter dash at the Class S Championship preliminaries in 12.14 seconds and was seeded first going into the finals. As such, I was in the coveted middle lane. I felt confident in my abilities. If there was one thing I knew, it was how to run; how to maximize my performance from the split-second the gun went off.
I knew that I was the fastest girl there, one of the fastest in the state of Connecticut.
But I was shaky as I lined up at the starting blocks, next to two biologically male athletes. The nerves were ten times worse than other races.
"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 dominate the girls' events. They won 15 women's state championship titles—titles that were held by nine different girls in 2016—set 17 new individual meet records and eliminated girls from advancement opportunities more than 85 times.
It became clear that the top sprinters would have to look to other events if they wanted to be a champion. Some switched to hurdles, I focused on long jump. It was a highly competitive event with two of us jumping over 19 feet by my senior year.
I enjoyed that rivalry and we all looked forward to seeing which of us girls would go the farthest to pull out the win. It was a fair fight, no matter the outcome.
I love the excitement of sprinting, but sadly I began to dread those events.
It's hard to explain the feeling that no matter how talented you are, how hard you train to shave a half-second off your time, how much you sacrifice, how much you want to win, you've already lost before the race even begins.
It's devastating. Defeating. Demoralizing.
I wasn't good enough because I am a girl.
Biological reality, common sense, and science all agree that males have inherent physical advantages over females that no amount of testosterone suppression can mitigate. That difference means that at our very best, we're not competitive against males.
To me, it is obvious that if allowed to compete, biological males will dominate all events they compete in with women.
It's excruciatingly hard to get back up from that. So as teenagers, three of my fellow teammates and I filed a lawsuit in 2020 challenging CIAC's policy that we believe unfairly discriminates against girls.
In my view, all four of us were consistently deprived of honors and placements because of CIAC's policy allowing biological males to compete on girls' teams.
With the legal help of Alliance Defending Freedom, ours was the first lawsuit of its kind in the United States defending female athletes and the future of women's sports. Now, our case is before a federal appeals court that will decide whether to help level the playing field for all biologically female athletes.
I believe that accurate athletic records serve a critical role in not only preserving women's achievements but also boosting the future of women's participation and success in sports.
This issue has personally impacted my life, but it reaches far beyond just me. I feel that high school girls in Connecticut continue to be deprived of fair competition to this day, and policies like the one in my home state are impacting other female athletes across the country.
Since we filed our lawsuit more than three years ago, I believe the harm to women and girls across the nation has grown exponentially. It's become a widespread issue impacting women across all levels of competition in numerous sports.
Girls continue to lose spots on the podium, the opportunity to compete at elite levels, championship titles, public recognition, and potential scholarship opportunities.
All because powerful individuals and athletic associations, school boards, and even the federal government believe that personal identity, not biology, matters in athletics.
Beliefs don't change biology. Studies have shown that male athletes consistently achieve results 10-15 percent higher than comparably fit and trained women across almost all athletic events.
As I witnessed firsthand, even when men suppress testosterone, some of their physical advantages never go away like greater lung capacity, skeletal size, and bone density.
Thankfully, we have a federal civil rights law, Title IX, that protects women from this unfair advantage and gives us girls an equal shot at athletic opportunities. But those promises depend on legislators, sports associations, and government officials returning to biological reality and protecting the female category in sports.
I feel that it's time to listen to the voices of the brave young women speaking out about how unfair it is to compete against male athletes. About the mental and emotional toll of competing in a rigged system and questioning whether to quit the sport you love.
I think back to that late May afternoon at the state championships when I was buoyed by friends calling my name louder, louder, louder. I knew it was meant to lift me up in the face of the injustice forced upon me, but I also knew it wasn't just for me.
It was for every girl who's ever lost a race, a swim meet, or a spot on a soccer team because a male edged her out.
It isn't fair and it isn't right. If we want a future where girls have an equal shot at winning, we must restore a fair and level playing field to women's sports.
I had just run the 100-meter dash at the Class S Championship preliminaries in 12.14 seconds and was seeded first going into the finals. As such, I was in the coveted middle lane. I felt confident in my abilities. If there was one thing I knew, it was how to run; how to maximize my performance from the split-second the gun went off.
I knew that I was the fastest girl there, one of the fastest in the state of Connecticut.
But I was shaky as I lined up at the starting blocks, next to two biologically male athletes. The nerves were ten times worse than other races.
"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 dominate the girls' events. They won 15 women's state championship titles—titles that were held by nine different girls in 2016—set 17 new individual meet records and eliminated girls from advancement opportunities more than 85 times.
It became clear that the top sprinters would have to look to other events if they wanted to be a champion. Some switched to hurdles, I focused on long jump. It was a highly competitive event with two of us jumping over 19 feet by my senior year.
I enjoyed that rivalry and we all looked forward to seeing which of us girls would go the farthest to pull out the win. It was a fair fight, no matter the outcome.
I love the excitement of sprinting, but sadly I began to dread those events.
It's hard to explain the feeling that no matter how talented you are, how hard you train to shave a half-second off your time, how much you sacrifice, how much you want to win, you've already lost before the race even begins.
It's devastating. Defeating. Demoralizing.
I wasn't good enough because I am a girl.
Biological reality, common sense, and science all agree that males have inherent physical advantages over females that no amount of testosterone suppression can mitigate. That difference means that at our very best, we're not competitive against males.
To me, it is obvious that if allowed to compete, biological males will dominate all events they compete in with women.
It's excruciatingly hard to get back up from that. So as teenagers, three of my fellow teammates and I filed a lawsuit in 2020 challenging CIAC's policy that we believe unfairly discriminates against girls.
In my view, all four of us were consistently deprived of honors and placements because of CIAC's policy allowing biological males to compete on girls' teams.
With the legal help of Alliance Defending Freedom, ours was the first lawsuit of its kind in the United States defending female athletes and the future of women's sports. Now, our case is before a federal appeals court that will decide whether to help level the playing field for all biologically female athletes.
I believe that accurate athletic records serve a critical role in not only preserving women's achievements but also boosting the future of women's participation and success in sports.
This issue has personally impacted my life, but it reaches far beyond just me. I feel that high school girls in Connecticut continue to be deprived of fair competition to this day, and policies like the one in my home state are impacting other female athletes across the country.
Since we filed our lawsuit more than three years ago, I believe the harm to women and girls across the nation has grown exponentially. It's become a widespread issue impacting women across all levels of competition in numerous sports.
Girls continue to lose spots on the podium, the opportunity to compete at elite levels, championship titles, public recognition, and potential scholarship opportunities.
All because powerful individuals and athletic associations, school boards, and even the federal government believe that personal identity, not biology, matters in athletics.
Beliefs don't change biology. Studies have shown that male athletes consistently achieve results 10-15 percent higher than comparably fit and trained women across almost all athletic events.
As I witnessed firsthand, even when men suppress testosterone, some of their physical advantages never go away like greater lung capacity, skeletal size, and bone density.
Thankfully, we have a federal civil rights law, Title IX, that protects women from this unfair advantage and gives us girls an equal shot at athletic opportunities. But those promises depend on legislators, sports associations, and government officials returning to biological reality and protecting the female category in sports.
I feel that it's time to listen to the voices of the brave young women speaking out about how unfair it is to compete against male athletes. About the mental and emotional toll of competing in a rigged system and questioning whether to quit the sport you love.
I think back to that late May afternoon at the state championships when I was buoyed by friends calling my name louder, louder, louder. I knew it was meant to lift me up in the face of the injustice forced upon me, but I also knew it wasn't just for me.
It was for every girl who's ever lost a race, a swim meet, or a spot on a soccer team because a male edged her out.
It isn't fair and it isn't right. If we want a future where girls have an equal shot at winning, we must restore a fair and level playing field to women's sports.
