What the 2028 Olympics Reveal About Who Gets to Belong
BY NIK KACY | PHOTO BY LEON MOSTOVOY
Los Angeles calls itself a sanctuary.
Yet in 2028, it will host an Olympic Games that restricts the women’s category to so-called “biological females,” excluding Trans women, intersex athletes, and others who fall outside that definition.
That contradiction isn’t theoretical.
It is already being lived.
By athletes like CeCé Telfer.
In 2019, CeCé Telfer became the first openly Trans woman to win an NCAA track and field title in the 400-meter hurdles.
“Winning my NCAA title meant more than a medal,” she says. “It was validation, not just of my training, but of my identity. It was proof that I belonged.”
But belonging in sport has never been neutral. It has always been conditional.
“The realization wasn’t one moment,” CeCé explains. “It was gradual, watching policies shift in ways that didn’t consider athletes like me. Then it became real. I understood that no matter how hard I trained, something outside my control could take that dream away.”
“Fairness is about equal opportunity. It’s not about erasing human diversity.”
The International Olympic Committee’s new policy defines the women’s category through biological criteria, including genetic screening tied to the SRY gene—a gatekeeping marker often treated as definitive, despite not reflecting the complexity of human sex development.
These decisions are framed as fairness. But fairness has never required sameness.
Elite sport has always rewarded difference. Michael Phelps’ wingspan. Usain Bolt’s stride. Eero Mäntyranta’s rare genetic mutation. These differences are celebrated.
So why are some biological differences treated as talent, while others are treated as threat?
Medical consensus shows that sex characteristics exist across a spectrum. Hormones, chromosomes, and anatomy do not operate in clean binaries, even among cisgender athletes.
Research shows that after hormone therapy, Trans women experience measurable decreases in muscle mass, strength, and hemoglobin levels, challenging the assumption of retained advantage. There is no consistent evidence of Trans women dominating women’s sport.
The myth is loud. The data is not.
“In elite sports, I’ve competed alongside people whose bodies don’t fit neatly into traditional categories,” CeCé says. “That’s more common than people think. It looks like diversity. Like variation. Like sport at its most natural.”
“Fairness is about equal opportunity. It’s not about erasing human diversity.”
What Trans athletes are experiencing is not neutrality. It is scrutiny.
“Having my identity debated publicly has been one of the most painful parts of this journey,” she says. “It’s dehumanizing.”
For CeCé, the impact extends far beyond the track.
“These policies have affected my mental health, my safety, and my future. It’s like constantly having to justify your place in the world.”
Still, she runs.
“My story isn’t just about setbacks. It’s about continuing anyway.”
This moment is bigger than sport.
It is about how we respond when difference challenges our understanding. Who we protect, who we question, and who we make space for.
Sport reflects society—its excellence, but also its bias and its limits.
Those limits are now being codified. And they are not inevitable. They are choices.
“I would want decision-makers to understand that behind every policy is a real person,” CeCé says. “We’re not abstract cases—we’re athletes. Lead with empathy. Listen to us. Create spaces that include, not exclude.”
CeCé Telfer is not the exception.
She is a reflection of a system that has always tried to define who belongs and who does not.
Fairness was never fixed. Biology was never simple. Belonging was never meant to be conditional.
Los Angeles will call itself a sanctuary while hosting an Olympic Games that excludes athletes like her.
The question is no longer whether the system is fair.
It is whether we are willing to keep calling it that.
Because fairness is not something we are born into.
For many of us, it has never been a choice.
It is a necessity we are forced to fight for.
