ON A GRAY June afternoon in Oakland, Maine, Soren Stark-Chessa dug her shoes into the rubber track at the starting line for the 1600-meter race in the state Class C outdoor track and field championships. Pellets of rain fell from the thick, heavy clouds.
She took a deep breath and tried to calm her heart rate, knowing whatever she did over the next 10 minutes could spark national debate. "Give your all," the 17-year-old transgender girl thought to herself. "Try not to leave anything that you can regret."
On the other side of a black chain-link fence, three spectators wore bright pink T-shirts emblazoned with bold, black letters: "XX ≠ XY" and "facts over feelings."
"Boys are boys and girls are girls," said one, Clarissa Porter. "I believe that we need to protect our girls' and women's sports."
Stark-Chessa was competing despite an executive order President Donald Trump signed Feb. 5 that authorizes federal agencies to penalize schools that allow transgender girls and women to compete in girls' and women's sports, including being made ineligible for federal funding.
Officials in a handful of states, including Maine, have said they will not comply. Six months after Trump's executive order, debate around transgender athletes continues to roil nationwide. From coast to coast, the action set off a flurry of lawsuits, countersuits, sports organization policy changes, U.S. Department of Education investigations and state legislation. The U.S. Supreme Court will take up the issue in its next term, which begins in October.
Opponents of transgender participation point to fairness and safety and the physiological advantages conferred by testosterone. "Boys and girls are different from age 0 to whatever because boys are infused with testosterone that is always there," said Idaho Rep. Barbara Ehardt, who authored the first bill restricting transgender athletes that became law.
Advocates for transgender inclusion argue that advantages gained from testosterone-driven puberty can be mitigated through testosterone suppression, and in youth sports, gender identity should determine eligibility.
"Chromosomes are not a proxy for sports performance and so they don't form a basis for excluding students," said Chris Erchull, an attorney for GLBTQ Legal Advocates & Defenders.
In a nationwide April poll by NBC News, 75 percent of respondents said they disagreed with the idea that transgender women should be eligible to compete in women's sports.
Amid that widespread opposition and a web of changing laws and policies, transgender athletes, from the elite levels down to rec leagues, are trying to find ways to compete in a sports landscape that has shrunk around them, knowing each competition could be their last.
"I feel like we're winning," said Ehardt, whose Idaho law is one of two that will be challenged before the Supreme Court. "But I don't feel like we've won yet."
SADIE SCHREINER HAD planned to race at Penn State on Feb. 21 with her teammates from the Rochester Institute of Technology at a Big Ten track with some of the nation's leading collegiate track and field talent.
Instead, she drove six hours to Toronto, Canada, and ran alone, without coaches or teammates, at a meet run by a regional running club, packed with mostly grade-school boys and girls. She made a point to bring a plain bag -- stuffed with her gear, some jerky and crackers -- and not the bag with the RIT logo, so as not to run afoul of any NCAA rules.
College sports has been one of the primary battlegrounds for transgender athlete participation, in large part because of the potentially lucrative stakes: scholarships, sponsorship money and professional or Olympic careers. Colleges also rely on federal funding, which subjects them to regulation.
The NCAA adopted a policy in 2010 that allowed transgender women to be eligible for the women's category. That came under scrutiny after Lia Thomas joined the University of Pennsylvania women's swim team during the 2021-22 season, where she became the first transgender athlete to win a Division I national championship.
Led by former Kentucky swimmer Riley Gaines, a group of women athletes sued the NCAA in 2024, alleging that the NCAA had violated their Title IX rights by allowing transgender athletes such as Thomas to compete.
On Feb. 6, the day after Trump signed the executive order, the NCAA changed its policy and made women's sports open only to student-athletes assigned female at birth.
Schreiner was determined to find a race somewhere -- anywhere -- that would let her run. First, she tried to register for NCAA races as "unattached," a designation that allows athletes to compete as individuals representing themselves but not their colleges. RIT officials made calls to see if any meets would take her, and they all refused.
Schreiner decided to try on her own, and she successfully registered to compete unattached at a meet on Feb. 15 at Boston University. But less than 24 hours before the meet, Schreiner received an email from BU's track and field department: "Athletes who were assigned male at birth cannot compete in women's sporting events."
"The Executive Order has put us in a difficult position in which we are obligated to comply even if it does not align with our previous practices," the email said. "We understand this is distressing and abrupt news to hear, especially in a time of so much uncertainty."
Schreiner said she contacted the NCAA around that time to ask whether she could compete unattached but didn't hear back. ESPN also reached out to an NCAA spokesperson, who provided general information on the unattached bylaw but did not answer whether it would apply to transgender athletes.
Schreiner then competed in the 400- and 200-meter dashes in the women's open category at the regional running club meet in Canada, where she won both events: 57.81 in the 400 and 25.05 in the 200. The winning times at the 2025 NCAA women's indoor championships in those events were 49.24 and 22.30 respectively.
"It's much better than sitting alone at my home," she said. "But driving alone up to Canada to compete at a meet that's nowhere near the caliber of what I should be racing at this weekend is not exactly motivating."
She then ran at two USA Track & Field events in March, but the windows of opportunity were closing. USATF issued a new policy requiring transgender athletes to transition before age 12. Schreiner transitioned in high school.
On May 3, Schreiner was registered to race in the open category at the Larry Ellis Invitational, hosted by Princeton University. But she was removed from the list of participants shortly before the 200-meter and told by school officials that she could not race, according to a lawsuit she filed against the university, its athletic director and race organizers in a New Jersey court on July 15, alleging discrimination and infliction of emotional distress.
"Simply stated, when Princeton University, unlawfully aided and abetted by the other individually named defendants, denied her right to run ... they broke the law controlling guaranteed protections of the rights of transgender women," the lawsuit says.
The defendants have yet to file a response in the case. A spokesperson for Princeton told ESPN in a statement: "Princeton follows NCAA rules and policies for determining who is eligible for varsity athletic events, which is what we did in this case."
In recent social media posts, Schreiner has acknowledged that her racing career is likely finished.
A SUNDAY AFTERNOON USA Fencing competition at the University of Maryland this March was supposed to be a low-key, low-stakes affair. Mostly "for funsies," as transgender fencer Red Sullivan saw it.
Instead, it turned both Sullivan and her would-be opponent, Stephanie Turner, into national figures. Sullivan, who had already stopped competing for Wagner College because of the executive order, continued to enter USA Fencing events. Turner was there to compete for her University of Maryland club team.
But when Turner was paired against Sullivan, she knelt and refused to fight. Turner was disqualified, and video of the incident went viral, with both fencers saying they felt thrust into the national media and afraid.
Sullivan said she made her social media accounts private, scrubbed her internet profile and called law enforcement in fear she would be a target of swatting, or making fake 911 calls to her home to draw police there.
Turner later told a congressional committee that she decided to take a break from fencing after her protest made her a "target for harassment and violence."
"The USFA has fostered an environment where I am unwelcome in my own category," she said at a May 7 hearing, adding that the organization's leadership promotes a culture that "includes public humiliation, doxxing, social ostracism, dismissal, and even threats."
"Each time a man competes in the women's category, with USAF's support, it removes fair sport and takes opportunities from women," she said. Turner told the committee USAF has more than 200 transgender fencers. The organization told ESPN that 38 athletes completed its transgender participation certification and competed in the women's division this season.
ESPN reached out to Turner directly and through her fencing club and did not receive a response.
USA Fencing board of directors Chair Damien Lehfeldt told the committee that fencing has a long history of mixed-gender competitions between men and women. In competitions between cisgender women and transgender women, cisgender women prevailed in 55% of the bouts for which he has data, he said.
On July 21, the U.S. Olympic and Paralympic Committee announced a new policy that bars transgender women from women's sports. As a result, USA Fencing said it would require transgender women to compete in the men's category at all sanctioned competitions.
The USOPC's policy change affects all 54 national governing bodies, which oversee events in Olympic sports from youth to masters levels. It's unclear if the USOPC rule will impact non-elite athletes.
U.S. Figure Skating spokesperson Isabelle McLemore told ESPN the organization had already been reviewing its transgender athlete policy before the USOPC ruling. "We, like other NGBs, oversee the sport at all levels, so we are talking grassroots to the Olympic Games," she said. "How do we apply a policy to all? How is it built to answer and oversee all of those different areas?"
The U.S. Tennis Association, which said in a 2025 report that it has nearly 26 million participants across the country, told ESPN in a statement: "The tennis ecosystem and the tournament structure in the U.S., both recreational and competitive, involve many organizations and require management and administration across many different local, state, national and global entities. We are doing our due diligence to ensure we comply with all applicable laws, Executive Orders, and USOPC requirements while continuing to make tennis available and accessible to all who want to participate."
Congress gained significant oversight powers over the USOPC and the national governing bodies in 2020 in the wake of the Larry Nassar sex abuse cases. Congress can dissolve the USOPC's board of directors and decertify national governing bodies that it deems have not fulfilled their duties, including protecting athlete safety.
In reaction to the USOPC ban, Turner told Fox News that she supported mandatory sex screening to verify an athlete's gender. "You can't rely on documentation anymore," Turner said. "You can't rely on driver's license(s), you can't rely on birth certificates because those can all be edited."
The use of cheek swabs to determine chromosomes is gaining momentum in sports. World Athletics announced last week that it will require everyone competing in the women's category to pass a one-time gene test. The rule takes effect for its world championships in September.
Last week, the U.S. Department of Education announced that Wagner College had agreed to comply with the administration's restrictions on transgender athletes after a federal investigation.
Sullivan said she is transferring this fall to the University of Connecticut, which offers club fencing. UConn spokesperson Stephanie Reitz wrote in an email that policies for club sports are determined by the governing bodies of each sport, which means Sullivan would not be allowed to compete on the women's team.
Sullivan said competing on the men's team is not an option.
"No one transitions to do something that doesn't align with how they feel," she said. "I don't feel like a man. I'm not a man."
She said she's considered working as a referee or as an assistant coach at her club to stay involved.
"I love fencing," she said. "I would love to stay in this world ... but it's hard existing in a place where it doesn't feel like it wants you to exist."
ALBA ORLANDO TRACKS her love of sports all the way to her toddler days.
The 31-year-old transgender woman remembers swinging a golf club at age 3. Later on, she played Little League baseball. But her favorite way to spend cold Minnesota winters was in a bowling alley.
That changed when she got to high school. She didn't feel she was progressing like other youth bowlers and she didn't feel like she belonged. For years, she stopped bowling altogether.
She began to ease back into it and joined a LGBTQ league in 2023. She also began to socially and medically transition.
"I bought a new bowling ball and I had some of the best scores in [the league's] woman category," Orlando said. "I won the award for most improved average. It was just kind of a reminder of what sports is to me, that as hard as it was to give it up, to pick it back up again changed my life."
While men and women have the same rules in bowling, the U.S. Bowling Congress, the sport's governing body, found in a study that elite men outperformed elite women bowlers by 27.5 pins on average in a three-game series.
Following Trump's executive order, the USBC adopted a policy that made transgender women ineligible for the women's category. The policy took effect immediately at the elite level and on Aug. 1 at the non-elite level. Although the USBC is a national governing body, many everyday leagues at local bowling alleys are affiliated with its chapters and are bound by its rules. The USBC declined an interview request for this story.
In an online FAQ, the organization states that transgender women will still be welcome to participate on an all-women's team if that team votes to be categorized as mixed.
With the pending uncertainty, Orlando wonders how she'll be able to continue playing the sport that she just recently took up again.
"I don't know where I would be ... if I hadn't bowled the last two years," she said. "I'd probably be a bit heavier, a bit more sad, and I'd probably have less friends."
PARKER TIRRELL DOESN'T particularly like to run. Her foot skills aren't as good as many of her peers. She says she falls down a lot. Still, she loves soccer. And she's honest about her biggest sporting challenge these days.
"It's not really that I'm trans, just that I need to sometimes put in a bit more work," she said.
The 16-year-old from New Hampshire has faced many challenges playing high school and club soccer. An opposing team wrote "PGS," for "Protect Girls Sports," on their faces in eye black, Tirrell said. At an away game, some parents wore pink wristbands with "XX," for the female chromosomes. Sometimes, opponents ducked her in the postgame handshake line.
"Their loss," she said. "I give great high-fives."
In July 2024, then-Gov. Chris Sununu signed a law that prevented transgender girls and women from competing in girls' and women's sports from fifth grade through high school.
In public hearings, proponents of the measure emphasized safety concerns and the notion that a transgender girl could take opportunities away from cisgender girls, while opponents said exclusion was unfair and risked emotionally harming transgender children.
The Tirrell family and the family of another transgender athlete, Iris Turmelle, sued the state to allow the girls to rejoin their high school teams. A federal judge issued an injunction in September blocking enforcement against Tirrell and Turmelle while the case continues, saying the law "on its face, discriminates against transgender girls."
When Trump's executive order came down in February, the families expanded the lawsuit to challenge it as well.
"The federal government is poised to swoop in and punish any schools that allow opportunities for transgender students in school sports," said Erchull, who represents both athletes. "We realized it was imperative that we also challenge the executive order."
Tirrell's parents, Sara and Zach, gathered with her around their kitchen island to present the idea of adding Trump to the case. "You mean, I get to sue the president?" Parker responded. "That's so cool!"
"If I don't say anything, nothing's going to change," she said in an interview. "I want other trans kids that are trying to find some sort of way to relate to people, to be able to play sports. It's not fair."
Her parents weren't quite as enthusiastic. "We carry the worry and Parker lives her life," Sara said, "which is the way I think parents are supposed to do their job a lot of the time."
If Tirrell could have it her way, she would play soccer "until my legs stop working." If things don't go her way, she said she would consider playing on a boys' team.
"I'm not that athletic," she said. "But I will certainly try and see how that works out."
BACK AT THE Maine Class C outdoor track and field state championships in June, Stark-Chessa churned around the track. The noise, the nerves, all of the prerace anxiety fell away. It was just her running.
Stark-Chessa, who won a state title in the 800 meters in 2024, was allowed to compete in the 2025 state championships because Maine Gov. Janet Mills refused to comply with the executive order. Two weeks after his order, Trump clashed with Mills at the White House, with the governor telling the president, "See you in court."
"To find out that Maine wasn't going to comply with that was devastating, like, they don't really care that much about us female athletes, for all the rights that we work so hard for," said Hailey Himes, a hurdler and jumper for Presque Isle High School.
The Department of Justice sued the state in April, arguing Maine was "openly and defiantly flouting federal anti-discrimination law by enforcing policies that require girls to compete against boys in athletic competitions designated exclusively for girls." Stark-Chessa was among the athletes described in the lawsuit.
In May, Maine's legislature considered a slew of bans on transgender athletes, all of which failed to pass. One marathon public hearing drew testimony from more than 900 people. Most opposed the bans, but some student-athletes stood to say it was unfair that they had to line up against transgender girls. Himes helped lead a march on Maine's state Capitol building in Augusta.
"We really just wanted to fight for what we know is right," Himes said. "So all of our hard work that we've put into sports for so many years doesn't go to waste because a trans athlete takes the success away from us."
In the 1600, Stark-Chessa fell further behind the pack with each lap. She placed 11th, finishing in 5 minutes, 49.88 seconds. After crossing the finish line, she fell in exhaustion, got up, and doubled over on the side of the track. One of her competitors helped her up and offered a pat on the back.
"There are so many runners in the community who are so supportive," Stark-Chessa said. "It's been this huge outcry of support. And it's just a really wonderful community that I don't want to leave."
It's not clear what the policy will be in Maine when Stark-Chessa returns for her senior season in the fall. She doesn't know if she'll race again.
She received interest from Division III colleges last fall, and letters continue to trickle in today, but after the NCAA changed its policy to align with the executive order, she figured there was no sense responding.
"Soren said, 'I guess I'm not going to run in college,'" her mother, Susan Stark, said. "Being the positive, optimistic, resilient person she is, she's like, 'There's lots of things I can do with my life, and that sort of sucks but whatever, we're going to move on.'"
Despite the pushback and attention, Stark-Chessa hopes the pathway to competition remains open for her final high school season.
"I really hope that I'll still be able to run next year," she said.
Additional reporting by ESPN senior writer Alyssa Roenigk.