We’ve said this before, and we’ll say it again

With the International Olympic Committee (IOC) introducing the SRY gene screening, this new policy on gender eligibility in sports has reignited one of the most persistent debates in the industry: who gets to compete in women’s categories.

I’ve written about the ongoing debate surrounding transgender athletes and eligibility in sports more times than I can count, and each time it comes back, it feels like we are reopening a conversation that never really found closure. The arguments sound familiar, concerns remain the same, and yet we continue to revisit the topic as if we are starting from scratch, even when the core of the discussion has already been laid out many times before.

The IOC has introduced a policy that uses Sex-determining Region Y (SRY) gene screening to determine eligibility in women’s categories, framing it as a way to protect fairness in competition. Under this policy, athletes are classified based on biological criteria, with testing methods such as saliva, cheek swabs, or blood samples used to detect the presence of the SRY gene, which is associated with male sex development. At the same time, the policy outlines certain exemptions, such as athletes with conditions like Complete Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome, while others who test SRY-positive are directed toward male, mixed, or open categories depending on their sport.

I first encountered discussions about gender eligibility policies in late 2025, when conversations began to build toward the LA 2028 Olympics and similar measures were being discussed in other competitions. Even then, it was clear that the direction was shifting toward tighter biological restrictions, which already raised concerns about exclusion. Seeing it now formalized through SRY gene screening only confirms that the approach is becoming more limiting, especially for athletes who do not fit neatly into these categories.

What stands out to me is how predictable the pattern has become. A policy is introduced, followed by explanations that aim to justify it, then reactions from different groups who raise concerns about fairness and inclusion. From there, the discussion spreads across public spaces, where opinions become stronger and more divided, and the people at the center of the issue often end up being the ones most affected by the attention and scrutiny. After a while, the conversation simmers down, only to return again when the next development appears, carrying the same questions that were never fully resolved.

Part of the problem lies in how these policies rely heavily on rigid, science-based measures to define something as complex as eligibility. Approaches like the SRY gene screening present themselves as objective and precise, offering a sense of certainty through technical language and biological matters. But, in doing so, they reduce competition into something that can be neatly measured and categorized, when in reality, sports has always been shaped by a wide range of human differences.

When eligibility is narrowed down to biology alone, it risks overlooking the lived realities of athletes whose identities and experiences do not fit cleanly into those definitions. These assessments may appear credible on paper, but they struggle to account for the layered challenges faced by already underrepresented groups, particularly transgender athletes. In the process, what is framed as fairness can end up reinforcing exclusion, placing additional barriers on those who are already navigating limited space within competitive sport.

I understand why fairness matters in sports, especially in elite competition where categories are meant to create balanced conditions. That goal is important and should not be dismissed. The current approach, however, leans heavily on a single form of classification, which struggles to reflect how complex human identity and experience really are. 

Womanhood in sports carries a wide range of realities shaped by background, opportunity and background. Women athletes do not come from one uniform path, and their journeys into competition are influenced by different challenges that extend far beyond biology. For many athletes, including transgender women, policies like this shape whether they feel recognized and accepted in the very spaces they have committed themselves to over time.

Looking at the broader picture, debates around gender eligibility in sports have been ongoing for a long time, and each new policy tends to bring them back into focus rather than move them toward a shared understanding. Instead of reaching clearer ground, the conversation often becomes more divided, with different sides holding firm to their views while the people most directly affected remain at the center of the discussion.

There are also arguments that try to define womanhood through specific physical experiences, such as menstruation or pregnancy, as a way of questioning whether transgender women belong in these spaces. But even within women’s sports, these experiences are not shared in the same way by everyone. Athletes come from different bodies, conditions, and life paths, yet they are not reduced to a single standard of what a woman should be. Framing the discussion this way narrows a much broader reality and shifts the focus away from what sport is meant to address, which is fair competition rather than defining womanhood itself.

An equitable direction may not come from a complete overhaul of existing standards, but from refining how categories are defined and applied across different sports. This can involve clearer, sport-specific criteria, ongoing consultation with athletes and experts, and systems that consider performance data alongside biological factors. Instead of keeping in mind the goal of dilution, one must build a framework that remains competitive while remaining attentive to the people within it.

The women’s category should remain protected in a way that preserves fair competition, while broader or open categories can create space where participation is more inclusive. A system like this allows sports to uphold its standards without reducing complex identities and experiences into a single measure. It reflects a middle ground where fairness and inclusion are both treated as essential parts of the same conversation.

Fairness will always matter in sport, but so will the way people are treated within those systems, especially when policies begin to determine who is allowed to participate and who is not. A fair approach should never only focus on maintaining competition, it must also recognize that inclusion is part of what makes sports meaningful in the first place.