For decades, women have been encouraged to shatter glass ceilings, make history, win world records, and compete on equal footing in arenas once closed off to them. Sports became one of the clearest symbols of that progress after the implementation of Title IX. Female athletes were told that if they worked hard enough, sacrificed enough, and stayed disciplined, opportunity would follow. That promise became a guiding force for so many of us.
But for many female athletes today, including myself, that glass ceiling is being shattered in a very different way. Not by women rising to meet the challenge, but by women standing up to rules that quietly erase them from fair competition altogether.
On Tuesday, the Supreme Court will hear the oral arguments in two pivotal cases: West Virginia v. B.P.J and Little v. Hecox. These cases ask whether states have the authority to preserve female-only sports.
Both West Virginia and Idaho passed laws to ensure that female athletes are not forced to compete against males. Those laws are now being challenged as discriminatory, despite the fact that Title IX is built on sex-based distinctions.
I spent years of my life training to compete at the highest level of collegiate track and field. Every early morning, every missed social event, every physical sacrifice was driven by one goal: to be the best athlete I could be. I had done everything right, to the point where I won the Outdoor Big Sky Conference Championship in the 800-meter run in 2019. As I headed into my final year of collegiate eligibility in the NCAA, everything was looking like I could surpass the goals I had set for myself.
But then everything changed. In my senior year at Southern Utah University, I was told that I would be competing against a biologically male athlete who competed on the men’s team at the University of Montana after taking a redshirt year. It became evident to me that my dreams of obtaining an All-American track title were less likely to become reality.
At that moment, the nature of competition changed completely. It was not just about running faster or training harder anymore. No amount of preparation could overcome a biological advantage I was never meant to compete against. Track and field in particular demands an honesty that few sports do, measuring speed, strength, and endurance, all of which are largely shaped by biology.
As a female athlete, I was always taught to problem solve — to lift heavier, train smarter, push through discomfort. But biology is not a hurdle you can outwork. Pretending otherwise does not make sports more inclusive; it makes them dishonest.
My story is one that has been happening for years to many different girls across many different sports. Now the Supreme Court has the chance to uphold the law and make a decision that will protect girls and reinforce that women deserve a separate category in athletics — and it should stay that way.
At their core, West Virginia v. B.P.J and Little v. Hecox are about whether the law still recognizes the physical realities that justified women’s sports in the first place. If female athletes cannot rely on sex-based categories, then the foundation of fair competition begins to crumble.
A PAIR OF SUPREME COURT CASES PUT THE FUTURE OF TITLE IX IN THE BALANCE
Women’s sports have slowly eroded one exception at a time, one uncomfortable silence at a time. And for athletes like me, that erosion shows up in the dreams that quietly slip away.
The Supreme Court has a chance to stop that erosion by affirming an enduring truth that should never have been denied: Female athletes deserve a category of their own, not because they are weaker, but because respecting their biological differences from men allows them to be strong.
Linnea Saltz is an Independent Women ambassador and a former NCAA track and field athlete. During her time at Southern Utah University, she was forced to compete against the first male athlete to compete in Division I cross country.