World Triathlon’s Transgender Ban: Biology (finally) Beats Identity

World Triathlon recently lobbed a policy grenade into the sport, one that’s dividing start lines faster than any finishing kick at Kona. As of January 2025, transgender women will be barred from the women’s amateur category. That’s it—no pathways, no hormone tests, no exceptions. A lot of athletes are fuming, others are applauding, and the rest aren’t sure what to make of it. But maybe the question isn’t whether this policy is “fair”—it’s whether it’s honest about the biological realities that drive sports in the first place.

The thought of banning anyone from anything rings as inherently exclusionary. But here’s the uncomfortable truth: sport isn’t about making everyone feel included all the time - that is just impossible. It’s about pushing bodies and minds to the brink, revealing who has the upper hand on any given day. Some of us have the genes to go sub-3 in a marathon, some don’t. Some are born with the capacity for huge VO₂ max scores; others, not so much. That’s not discrimination—it’s plain old biology.

Calling It Like It Is

On paper, the new rule for amateur triathletes might sound heavy-handed: no transgender woman can compete in the women’s category, regardless of hormone levels or how long she’s lived as a woman. Critics say it’s overkill—that World Triathlon is shutting the door on a tiny group of athletes who haven’t shown any real dominance. But that argument overlooks a key point: science and advantage don’t always wait around for big sample sizes.

Recent data underscores this. A 2024 cross-sectional study by researcher Hamilton—published in the British Journal of Sports Medicine—found that even three years into hormone therapy, transgender women retained notable advantages in strength, power and aerobic capacity compared to cisgender female norms. The 2.5 nmol/L testosterone threshold, commonly used in various sports, just didn’t erase the gap. Love the data or hate it, but it suggests there’s a biological line you can’t fully blur with hormone treatments.

Where Elites and Amateurs Diverge

World Triathlon did lay down a different path for elite transgender athletes—an arduous four-year protocol with continuous hormone monitoring, physiological tests, and a separate ranking for the fourth year. People point to that elite policy and say: “If World Triathlon can manage all this medical oversight at the top, why not do it for age-groupers, too?”

Simple answer: local races don’t have the resources, the staff, or the bandwidth to measure hormone levels. They also shouldn’t need them. The last thing your local volunteer-run sprint triathlon wants is to navigate complicated medical data. World Triathlon chose a pragmatic approach: if you can’t ensure the data is valid, don’t rely on it. Hence, a straight-up ban for amateur women’s fields.

The Freedom of the “Open Category”

So, where do transgender women go under the new policy? The men’s—now branded as “Open”—category. Yes, that effectively means they’d be racing alongside men. Critics argue this is like forcing them back in the closet, but maybe calling it an “open” division is just a way to be honest about physical realities. If, after years of transition, someone still holds a performance advantage, that advantage doesn’t disappear just because they identify differently.

And sure, the “open” label can feel like a polite euphemism. But realistically, an open division means fewer complicated checks, fewer accusations of doping, and a reduced risk of painful “gender investigations.” Sport has enough controversies without adding a moral tug-of-war in transition zones.

The Myth of “No Trans Dominance”

One of the biggest counterarguments: “We haven’t seen widespread trans dominance, so what’s the problem?” That line misses two things. First, with such a small percentage of athletes identifying as transgender, the sample size is tiny. Second, the lack of trans champions so far doesn’t invalidate data about retained advantages. It just means we haven’t seen a perfect storm where a top-tier trans athlete sweeps the podium.

Biased? Or Just Blunt?

People keep asking if this new rule is a step backward for inclusion. Maybe. It’s definitely not a warm invitation for transgender women who want to embrace triathlon in the women’s amateur field. It might even push some away from the sport. But to pretend that “inclusion equals fairness” all the time is disingenuous. Sports draw lines all over the place: weight classes, age brackets, special categories for disabilities. We rarely blink at those, because we accept that performance differs by biology.

How World Triathlon Justifies It

World Triathlon insists it consulted widely with medical experts, sports scientists, and transgender athletes to craft this policy. It cites over a dozen peer-reviewed studies that back up concerns about male puberty conferring advantages that hormone therapy can’t fully undo.

Yes, it’s a “hard line,” but it removes guesswork. We don’t get messy controversies about borderline hormone levels at amateur events. Race directors have a clear boundary: assigned female at birth for the women’s category, everyone else funnels into open. And that clarity, while painful for some, also means fewer ambiguous confrontations.

Elite-Level Complexity

At the elite level, the policy reveals just how complicated “inclusion” can become. Over four years, a trans woman has to track her testosterone, maintain it below 2.5 nmol/L, and collect performance data. She eventually competes side by side with cis women—but her results are posted separately, then integrated. Prize money gets split. It’s labyrinthine, but it’s an attempt to say, “You can compete—just prove beyond a doubt that you meet biological criteria.”

Final Thoughts and a Hard Reality

Some call this a massive overreaction; others see it as overdue. At its core, the policy spotlights one hard reality: sports draw lines for a reason. We have men’s and women’s categories because male puberty typically creates a strength gap that can’t be fully closed. Maybe the biggest misunderstanding is that the new rules are about denying someone’s identity. They’re not. They’re about acknowledging that we can’t bypass the physiological differences coded into our cells.

So maybe World Triathlon’s stance is unpopular, and maybe it stings. But it’s also bracingly honest: we can pretend away some differences; others demand we draw a line. In triathlon, it looks like World Triathlon has drawn that line for good. And if there’s one truth that’s emerged from all this, it’s that sport never promised perfect inclusion—it promised to reveal what we’re made of. Sometimes, that’s less about our hopes and more about the limitations we can’t afford to ignore.

TL;DR – World Triathlon’s Policy Snapshot

1. Amateur Category (Women’s)
   • Must be assigned female at birth, no exceptions.
   • No hormone testing or case-by-case reviews.
2. Open Category (Formerly Men’s)
   • Open to all, including transgender women.
3. Elite Pathway for Transgender Women
   • Four-year process:
     • Year 1: Self-monitor testosterone (under 2.5 nmol/L), compete at least twice in open category.
     • Years 2-3: Monitored by World Triathlon with deeper physiological testing.
     • Year 4: Race in elite women’s category, separate ranking, separate prize money considerations.
   • Must maintain testosterone below 2.5 nmol/L the entire time.
4. Justification
   • World Triathlon cites peer-reviewed studies.
   • Focused on permanent male-puberty advantages and practicality of enforcement.
5. Outcome
   • Sharp dividing line: female means assigned female at birth.
   • Elite competition requires intense monitoring, but amateurs get a straightforward yes/no rule.

This approach strips away ambiguity: if you want a spot in the amateur women’s field, you must be biologically female from birth. Otherwise, you line up in open. That doesn’t make it easy. It just makes it clear. And in a sport where clarity is often in short supply, maybe that’s the point.