Last Saturday, a group of 10 women lined up on their bikes at the San Diego Velodrome. They began cycling in a tight pack around the 333-meter racetrack. After one neutral lap, the race director blew a whistle indicating the race had begun.
It was unlike other races at the velodrome, which is part of the Morley Field Sports Complex in Balboa Park.
In this race, transgender women were not allowed to compete.
"I felt disposable," said Talia, a trans woman who races at the velodrome. KPBS agreed to use only her first name due to fears of anti-trans harassment and violence.
"I thought I had my one safe space where people had my back," Talia said. "I don't expect people to go out of their way to fight for me. But seeing how easy it was to dismiss and kind of dispose of the trans community felt really shitty."
The race on April 4 was the velodrome's first in years that was sanctioned by USA Cycling (USAC), the national governing body for competitive bike racing. Until last year, the organization allowed trans women to compete in women's races if they submitted medical records and their hormone levels were comparable to those of cisgender women.
But last September, under pressure from the Trump administration, USAC adopted a new policy that bans trans women from competing in women's races.
The policy, and plans to host at least six more USAC races at the velodrome this year, are forcing difficult conversations about discrimination and inclusion among members of the San Diego Velodrome Association (SDVA), the nonprofit that operates the racetrack.
The issue is also forcing the city of San Diego, which owns the property, to decide whether it's prepared to enforce its own bans on anti-trans discrimination.
'This is just friends having fun'
Talia took her first bike racing class at the velodrome in the summer of 2023. She was drawn to the simplicity of track bikes, which have only one gear and no brakes, and the complex strategies involved in racing, like knowing how to maneuver around your competitors, when to conserve energy and when to sprint.
"There's no cars to hit you," Talia said of the velodrome's appeal. "There's just the wind blowing on your face. It's one of the most relaxing places."
A few months after her first class at the velodrome, Talia came out as trans and began her transition. As a newcomer, she was nervous and unsure of how she would be treated.
"But the women were super, super welcoming," Talia said. "I felt like, 'Oh, this is just friends having fun.' It was so awesome."
Most races at the velodrome are recreational and segregated by ability rather than gender. The velodrome also hosts Women+ races, which are open to all female-identifying and nonbinary people, "with the goal of creating a less intimidating environment and a stronger sense of community for our women racers," said SDVA board president Roger Ainslie.
"This year, we decided to add USAC races because our membership has repeatedly requested that we do so," Ainslie wrote in an email to SDVA members last week. "Historically, there have been little to no opportunities for racers from our track to gather the USAC upgrade points which are required to compete at the National Championships, or at other races across the country. Adding these races will allow them to do so."
USAC did not respond to an interview request. Ainslie, who declined an interview request, acknowledged in his email that the organization's new gender policy will impact trans racers. But he noted only USAC officials, not velodrome volunteers, are allowed to contest a racer's eligibility for the women's category.
"If USA Cycling chooses to raise or dispute an eligibility issue under its own policy, that is a matter for USA Cycling, not for the Velodrome to take on as its role in our community," Ainslie said. "I want to speak directly to the members of our trans community and say this clearly: you are welcome here."
No discrimination allowed?
However, even the association's decision to host USAC races that exclude trans women may expose it to legal liability and potential loss of access to the racetrack.
SDVA operates the velodrome under a special use permit from the city of San Diego. That document states the organization "shall not discriminate or permit discrimination" against anyone based on a host of characteristics, including gender identity and gender expression.
If a trans woman seeks to race in the women's category at a USAC race but is not allowed, she would have grounds to sue for gender discrimination, said Alreen Haeggquist, an attorney who specializes in employment and discrimination law.
"California law is really clear," Haeggquist said. "You cannot discriminate based on gender identity, which includes trans people."
Haeggquist added that the city of San Diego could also face liability if it declines to enforce the nondiscrimination language in the permit.
"The longer the city allows it to continue, the longer the city has notice and is condoning the conduct," Haeggquist said. "If they know the discrimination is occurring and they're not taking action against it, that is the city's liability."
Ibrahim Ahmed, a spokesperson for the San Diego City Attorney's Office, declined to comment for this story and referred inquiries to the city's Communications Department. City spokesperson Caleb Olsen acknowledged the nondiscrimination clause in the permit but declined to comment on whether hosting USAC races would be a violation.
Talia said the city's silence on the issue was disappointing.
"What's the point of having the document that says you can't discriminate if, when there's discrimination happening, there's no — not even enforcement, there's no comment, even," Talia said. "They basically didn't even acknowledge that what is going on is a problem."
Trans athletes and sports medicine
Sports organizations have increasingly been prohibiting trans women from participating in women's categories, based on the belief that their bodies give them an unfair advantage — particularly if they went through male puberty.
But the theory lacks a basis in the science of gender transition care. Studies have found trans women who take gender-affirming hormone therapy for one to three years have similar strength and maximal oxygen consumption — a marker of athletic endurance — to cisgender women.
The British Journal of Sports Medicine recently published a review of 52 studies on the issue. The authors concluded the current evidence "does not support theories of inherent athletic advantages for transgender women."
Talia said since she first started hormone therapy more than two years ago, she has lost considerable strength. Lifting heavy things is much harder, she said, and it takes more time and more intense training to recover from injuries.
When racing against cisgender women, she often comes in last. Sports came more easily to her before her transition, she said, but losing her athletic advantages was a small price to pay.
"I didn't transition to win races," Talia said. "I have more fun now racing and losing with my friends than I had getting first place in (men's) races before."
'Just trying to survive'
Once, while waiting for the bus with her bike, a man got uncomfortably close to Talia and threatened to knock her teeth out. The experience was terrifying, she said. And the barrage of news stories about laws and court decisions stripping transgender people of their rights has left her feeling hopeless.
"It feels like a coin is being flipped as to whether I'm going to end up packed in a train to a concentration camp, or things will shift the other way and everyone will act like nothing ever happened," Talia said. "Every day just trying to survive without getting weird comments or looks, without having to justify my existence, is so difficult."
Yet despite the challenges, Talia said her life is "still so much better" than before her transition.
"Before I came out, I didn't know why I felt so bad," she said. "And now that I know, even though I can recognize that there's all that privilege and invisibility that I gave up, there's absolutely no way of going back. Because that would be worse than torture."
Talia doesn't plan on participating in any USAC races at the velodrome. She said she feels conflicted — let down by the San Diego Velodrome Association's acceptance of a policy that excludes her, but also not wanting to leave a place where she's found support and community.
"I just want to ride with my friends and be treated like a human," Talia said. "It sucks to have to walk that line of having to denounce or support an organization that's doing unjust things. Because it's doing things that are good as well."
