It's 6:30 am on a Tuesday morning, and the sun is barely gracing the gym floor through the windows of the Carla Madison Recreation Center in Denver. The sounds of other early risers playing basketball or lifting weights float through the air while I lace up my basketball shoes for my morning workout.
As a transgender athlete, playing the sport I love is an act of defiance in and of itself. Every time I play, I risk prejudice, ridicule, injury and even death. The basketball court is my salvation — a place where I feel most at home in a world that says I do not belong in it, that because I chose to be my most authentic self, I should not be allowed to step onto it.
Basketball has always been my safe place, where no matter who I play against, the hard work and dedication I put into my game will be respected. It's a place where I can go from blocking a man's shot to shooting an unguardable three over a taller woman, which can make or break my team’s season. To compete is a gift from the gods, and I am someone who has always found competition a remedy to ease my troubled soul. Getting the opportunity to compete as myself has changed my life in every way and allowed me to truly embrace Maya.
From my earliest memories, I understood something fundamental about myself. At three years old, I stood before my bathroom mirror, a tiny figure adorned in my grandmother's makeup, channeling my inner Janet Jackson. In that moment, I wasn't performing; I was expressing the woman I knew myself to be. What I couldn't grasp then, as I stepped away from the mirror, was that the world outside wasn't designed for someone like me. But my womanhood wasn't a costume or a fleeting fancy. It was, and is, an integral part of who I am. It's woven into the very fabric of my being, intimately linked to the essence of Maya.
"Basketball has always been my safe place, where no matter who I play against, the hard work and dedication I put into my game will be respected."
Maya Blasingame
When you grow up playing sports, there is no backup plan because you are committed to making it to the college level, and eventually, the dream is to go pro. The hours upon hours that I spent in the gym training myself in a body I did not identify with and being pushed to limits I could only dream of achieving led me to being recognized as a top athlete.
However, the existential dread of knowing I was transgender broke me. The world in 2012 was not the safest for transgender athletes, and to come out publicly would have ended my career before it ever began.
Growing up, there were no examples of other athletes who had made it to the top of the mountain in their sport and transitioned, nor was anyone who came out as gay looked at as the incredible people they were. So I hid that for most of my life, hating the person I would see in the mirror daily and the changes that going through puberty made to my body. It led to me losing confidence in myself and being relentlessly bullied by my high school teammates and coaches for being soft or showing any sign of femininity.
Eventually, I would give up on my pursuit of athletic achievement to find myself and let go of all the pain I went through growing up. I set off to blaze my own trail and become the role model I wish existed when I was a young athlete.
I still remember the moment I took my first estrogen tablet, and everything just clicked into place. My life started that day, and I felt so at home in my body for the first time in 24 years. It was either transition and risk everything or commit suicide because I couldn't see myself living past 24. To be transgender is... Here I am now at 30, in the best shape of my life, competing in the sport I love at a level I never saw for myself.
I am fighting relentlessly for LGBTQIA+ rights at the state capitol, leading protests across the state, and advocating for the rights of my community.
Maya Blasingame
Most trans people just want the freedom to be able to walk down the street and feel like they are safe. As an athlete, I want to move mountains so that everyone can feel that freedom when they compete.
I live my life proudly and authentically as a transgender woman, but I fear every time I compete in a women’s basketball league that I will be judged and discriminated against because of the false narratives that are driving hideous legislation across the world, banning transgender athletes, like myself, from ever playing the sports they love again. When I hit the hardwood, I worry if it will be my last time, not out of fear of injury, but out of fear of being outed and losing my freedom to compete. When trans people compete in athletics and lose, no one has a problem, but once we win, our victories are tainted by hate. I look at what happened to Lia Thomas, a college athlete who had made it to the pinnacle of her sport, followed all NCAA guidelines to compete as the woman she is, and to have all that taken away because she is transgender. It is a scary world for transgender athletes, and I personally believe we deserve better.
My own journey has taught me the profound importance of self-determination. I have had to fight like hell to become the woman I am today. To live authentically, to embrace my true self, is not a privilege, but a fundamental right and a chance to thrive in the face of oppression! However, for transgender women, this right is often challenged, denied and even violently opposed. Trans people deserve to be celebrated for our diversity, championed for our achievements and appreciated for our bravery. The positive effects that playing basketball has on my mental health and well-being keep me pushing for a world where everyone can play as their authentic self without facing bigotry.
I first heard of the Gay Games in 2014, when they were held in Ohio, and it gave me hope that there was a place for people like me to compete. It is no small feat that the city of Denver is a finalist and is being considered as a host for the Gay Games in 2030.
"Most trans people just want the freedom to be able to walk down the street and feel like they are safe. As an athlete, I want to move mountains so that everyone can feel that freedom when they compete."
Maya Blasingame
As an athlete, I would be ecstatic to have the privilege to be able to experience what true inclusion in sports could look like firsthand if such an amazing opportunity was bestowed upon the city I love. Creating and fostering inclusion is the superpower that sports bring into the lives of those who are fortunate enough to experience it. Finding places where that is still honored is hard to do for my community, but with the creation of LGBTQIA+ sports leagues and cultural events like the Gay Games, we are able to honor that tradition and ensure we can all have a place to be ourselves and compete.
When I am on the basketball court, I feel free! The world around me disappears, the hate I experience fades from existence, and I am just me — I am Maya. I find my joy with each dribble of the ball and swish of the net. Basketball is the one place where anything is possible, and for that small amount of time, I control my destiny. From the opening tip-off to the closing seconds of the game, the euphoria you feel when you can make the game-winning shot and be respected by your peers is something I wish for everyone who has lost their right to play.
When I play basketball, I am representing my entire community, and I dispel all of the negative narratives being said about my community. People see my light and recognize me not as a transgender athlete, but as a worthy competitor.
For far too long, the narrative of what an athlete is has been narrowly defined, excluding and marginalizing those who don't fit society’s prescribed mold. But athletics is not a monolith. It is a diverse and vibrant tapestry woven from countless individual experiences. It encompasses all people, regardless of their background, their identity or their journey.
I was born trans, and I was born to be athletic. I believe this big, beautiful world is large enough for both of those things to exist in the same person. True athletes want to go up against the very best. Why is gender ever in the conversation? So come meet me on the basketball court anytime and find out for yourself — experience my joy!
To support LGBTQIA+ athletes and the Gay Games Denver Bid for 2030, go to Community Night from 5 to 8 p.m. Wednesday, July 16, at ReelWorks, 1399 35th Street; RSVP for free.
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