These so-called “transvestigations” are a disturbing form of misogyny, and part of another category of transphobia known as transmisogyny, targeting women under the guise of protecting womanhood. Khelif is a cisgender woman, assigned female at birth, and identifies as a woman. Yet, her victory, that should have been internationally lauded, was met with a wave of online harassment and accusations.
When we allow fear and hatred to dictate who counts as a “real woman,” we undermine the very foundation of women’s rights.
This is the chilling reality of the world we live in: Anti-trans and transphobic narratives have seeped into the mainstream, reaching a global stage. Now, it’s not just trans women who are under attack by those with nothing better to do than police gender and spread disinformation, but cis women too—anyone whose womanhood doesn’t fit an impossible standard.
“Transvestigations” didn’t start with Khelif, and unfortunately, they won’t end with her. It’s a new label for an old problem—misogyny rebranded, now weaponized against both cis and trans women. It’s a way to attack women while pretending to defend them. It uses language that claims to protect women’s rights but only protects women who fit a certain mold. Many other Olympic athletes—especially women of color—have been subjected to having their gender analyzed because of their strength, abilities, and looks. And when birth certificates, health records, or hormonal testing aren’t enough to satiate this mob of “transvestigators,” they move the goalpost further, constantly redefining what it is to be a woman.
It concerns me to know that cis women are now being persecuted in the same way myself and my trans sisters have been since the beginning of time. As these persecutions intensify, the barometer and measure of “womanhood” will continue to be pushed and challenged. Are we going to start declaring that women with conditions like polycystic ovary syndrome, or women who undergo IVF, aren’t “real” women? Are we going to label women who choose not to have children as less of a woman? Are we going to question the gender of our mothers, sisters, and aunts who have undergone breast augmentation after cancer? Are we going to no longer consider our grandmothers who receive hormonal therapy during menopause to be women? Are we going to let these harmful, misogynistic, arbitrary definitions of womanhood continue to divide us? If you are a woman or care about women and girls, this should worry you as well.
Khelif won the gold, but at what cost? She defended herself in the ring but entered an even bigger battle having to defend her human dignity. She spoke out after her quarterfinal win, urging spectators to refrain from bullying athletes, highlighting the devastating impact such attacks have on mental health. She said, “It can destroy people, it can kill people’s thoughts, spirit, and mind. It can divide people. And because of that, I ask them to refrain from bullying.”
If this is the impact on a cis woman, imagine the daily mental toll on trans women who face this scrutiny not just in sports, but in every aspect of their lives. Transgender people are
over four times more likely than cisgender people to experience violent victimization. Forty-three percent of transgender youth have been bullied on school property, compared with 18% of cisgender youth. And now, many human rights organizations are declaring an epidemic of violence against trans people in the United States because of the uptick in attacks, an explosion in violent and hateful rhetoric aimed at the LGBTQ+ community, and the onslaught of discriminatory legislation.
As a trans woman, I know all too well the pain of having my humanity debated, politicized, and threatened. But the harm doesn’t stop with trans women. When we allow these narratives to flourish, when we let public opinion dictate who is “woman enough,” we are all at risk. Consider the growing number of anti-trans bills in the U.S. that seek to police gender in ways that hurt everyone. In states like Idaho, Arizona, and Georgia, these laws are putting young girls at risk, subjecting them to invasive exams to “prove” their gender, such as genital exams, before they can compete in sports.
This is not protection—it’s abuse. It’s a violation of bodily autonomy, and it’s a betrayal of everything women have fought for. The sad truth is that these policies, framed as protecting women, do the exact opposite. They endanger all women and girls, creating an environment where no one is safe from scrutiny.
The reality is that transphobia and transmisogyny don’t just harm the trans community—they harm everyone. When we allow fear and hatred to dictate who counts as a “real woman,” we undermine the very foundation of women’s rights. We allow the patriarchy to pit us against each other. They are creating infighting against an imaginary enemy, saying trans women are the true threat to feminism, distracting us from uniting against the real forces that oppress us all.
Imane Khelif’s story is a powerful reminder of what’s at stake. But this is not just about her—it’s about all of us. It’s about the girls and women who will come after her, who will face the same scrutiny if we don’t stand up now and stand up together. Cis women must join us in this fight against having our bodies and gender debated and defined.
This fight isn’t just for trans women—it’s for all women. It’s for anyone who believes in the right to define our own identities, free from the fear of harassment, discrimination, and violence. I hope that out of this, we will see more allies, more voices speaking out against the dangerous rhetoric of “transvestigations.” I hope that cis women will join us on the frontlines and join us in declaring it is not up to the government or the public to define our womenness, or moreso, our humanness.
