Could It Be That She Just Wants To Be With Her Friends?

Could It Be That She Just Wants To Be With Her Friends?

Among the many hats I wear is that of “coach.”

This year will be my sixth year coaching middle school boys and girls in track and field, which has been a blessing. 

I got the gig, not because I’ve got time on my hands, but because my daughter loves running and her school’s program needed a warm body or she wouldn’t have a season.

Also, as a parent, I’ve had the opportunity to chaperone my daughter’s events and interact, years ago, with a friend of hers who is a transgender girl.

As a coach, I’d be lying if I told you that I didn’t think about the possibility of a trans girl competing against my girls. Everything else aside, the physical differences between boys and girls once boys hit puberty are significant.

The season before last, our girls 4×400 team was fortunate to be the Lansing area’s fastest. We broke the Greater Lansing Honor Roll record. We were second fastest in the state (by a 1.25 second) and 32nd fastest in the country.

During a dual meet, we put our boys and girls teams on the track at the same time to save time (track meets are long, you know). 

Our best girls team versus our best boys team. Our boys team was not the strongest. We had some good runners, but we didn’t qualify for the Honor Roll meet. We probably lost more races than we won.

Suspense was high. The kids, parents and even the officials were excited. Would the girls finish first?

No. It was close for three laps, but once our boy anchor took the baton, it was over and the result wasn’t in doubt.

Here’s another story.

During a school class trip, I was charged with chaperoning my daughter and her friends as they shopped in a cute town during their downtime. Seven middle school girls (including the transgender girl) and me. 

At one boutique, the girls were having a blast trying on reasonably priced dresses and modelling them in front of each other. The transgender girl struggled. 

She broke off from the pack. She awkwardly picked through the racks. She shyly surveyed the store to see who was watching. She snuck into a dressing room with a few finds in hand. When she heard everyone was ready to leave, she bolted out of the dressing room, leaving a pile of dresses crumpled on the floor.

She wanted, desperately, to fit in . . . be one of the girls, but likely felt that, at that moment, she couldn’t enjoy the experience. It made me sad. It still does. 

This trans girl was not athletically gifted. If she had run on our track team, she would have struggled to beat anyone, boy or girl.

I get it, though. We’ve seen the photo of Lia Thomas towering over her opposition with a national championship medal around her neck. 

If my daughter or any of my girl athletes had been edged out of a single place at a meet by a trans girl, I can’t say I wouldn’t be agitated.

But it’s never happened. Not in middle school. Not in high school. Not in six years. In fact, the Michigan High School Athletic Association (MHSAA) says only two trans girls applied to participate on a girls high school sports in fall 2024, both in my daughter’s sport. 

This season, it was one. MHSAA won’t say, but given recent news, we can all safely assume it’s volleyball.

MHSAA has a policy overseeing trans girls in sports. Reading between the lines, the executive director is collecting evidence to verify that a boy is actively transitioning and her participation will not result in a competitive advantage.

Why else would she want to join a girls team? Go through the public scrutiny? Everyone is whispering. Everyone watching.

Could it be that she simply wants to be with her friends? Be one of the girls, be with her support system, during this scary and difficult time?

We can’t help but speculate.

But for me, my mind goes to those crumpled dresses on the floor.

(Kyle Melinn is the editor of the Capitol news service MIRS. You can email him at melinnky@gmail.com.)