Chris Mosier, an eight‑time member of Team USA and a pioneering transgender athlete, is preparing to return to international competition at the upcoming World Duathlon Championships. For Mosier, the race represents more than a test of endurance, it marks a deeply personal milestone in the face of rising anti‑trans policies that have undone gains he helped forge.
Mosier made history in 2015 by successfully pushing the U.S. Olympic & Paralympic Committee (USOPC) and the International Olympic Committee (IOC) to change rules that excluded transgender athletes from competing in international events under their affirmed gender identity. More than a decade later, many of those rules are being rolled back. The upcoming race, his first international contest since these reversals, comes during what he describes as a charged and increasingly hostile political climate for trans athletes.
“A Form of Protest” as Much as a Competition
Speaking exclusively to Gayety and when asked what this particular World Duathlon Championships means to him, Mosier did not mince words: “Competing in a World Championship is always an incredible experience. I treasure it because it’s a chance for me to be an athlete first and foremost, and do what I love to do.
Mosier later went on to add, “This race, however, feels particularly heavy given the massive wave of anti-trans policies and rhetoric in the United States and globally. This year’s race is not just a time for me to compete against the best in the world; for me, it’s a form of protest. Transgender people, and specifically transgender athletes, have been the targets of attacks on every level and in every area of life, ranging from sports to education, healthcare to identification documents, and everything in between. For me to show up as a proud transgender athlete and represent a country that is targeting my community at home is an act of resistance and an opportunity to be a moment of hope and possibility for transgender people in sport and society.”
He coalesces his identity as both athlete and activist, emphasizing that “for me to show up as a proud transgender athlete and represent a country that is targeting my community at home is an act of resistance and an opportunity to be a moment of hope and possibility for transgender people in sport and society.”
Training Under Constraints
Mosier’s preparation has been shaped by both physical setbacks and immense mental pressure. “Physically, my training was a more compressed version of what I would typically do to prepare, which is a lot of biking, running, and strength training. I was injured earlier this year and didn’t begin training until May, which was a few months after I would have otherwise started preparing.”
Mentally, the urgency of returning to the global stage has been heightened by discriminatory policies and public rhetoric, Mosier says.
“ I believe visibility is a powerful tool for social change, and that my visibility can create hope and possibilities for others who wish to be their authentic selves and do what they love. I have been considering the impact of visibility for both my community and myself and trying to envision the change I hope my presence creates in sports and the world, which helps me stay focused.
What Makes This Moment Different
Mosier has competed internationally before, but he says that nothing feels quite like the present moment.
“The landscape for transgender people in sports has changed drastically since I first competed internationally in 2016, with many sports developing policies at the national and international level to keep transgender athletes, specifically transgender women, out of sports. While the policies have not yet limited my participation, the rhetoric most certainly has impacted my ability to focus on competing.”
Mosier shares that he has had to reckon with fears about safety, travel, and identity documentation. “A lot of my mental energy in the lead up to this race was questioning if I would be safe traveling, competing, and returning to the United States using my passport.”
“ I also spent a significant amount of time wondering if this will be my final opportunity to compete – while there is no ban on trans men at this time, it is certainly possible given the escalation of attacks on trans athletes. So for this race, I really wanted to take it all in and appreciate all of the moments of preparing and being in competition.”
He further notes that the global perception of the United States feels different, often more negative. Mosier has heard from teammates about changing attitudes abroad toward the U.S., and he senses those perceptions are tied to political climates both at home and internationally.
What Is Duathlon, and Why It Suits Him
For those unfamiliar, duathlon competition consists of a run, followed by a cycling segment, then another run. Mosier originally came to duathlon via triathlon, but found the run‑bike‑run format more aligned with his strengths and preferences.
“I originally was competing in triathlon and tried a duathlon in the early season when the water was too cold to swim. I love triathlon, but I didn’t love the swimming section of the race as much as I love the bike and the run, so duathlon really suited me, and I fell in love with it quickly.”
Fighting to Keep Hard‑Won Victories
Mosier’s role in shaping trans inclusion policy has been significant. In 2015, part of his advocacy helped change IOC and USOPC policies to allow transgender athletes to compete in international competition in accordance with their gender identity.
“At that time, my hope was that in fighting that battle and advocating for my own spot in sports, that no one else would have to go through the struggles I went through to get to the starting line. I hoped that it would not only open up the doors to having our first transgender Olympian – which it did with Laurel Hubbard competing in Tokyo in 2021 – but also that it would provide access and inspiration for transgender and nonbinary athletes at every level of play.”
But with the rollback of many of those policies, the impact is deeply personal and severe. “As an athlete, I show up to train and race knowing that no one else at the starting line has been focusing their attention on their safety and worrying if they will lose their opportunity to compete in the same way that I have been. It’s an extra barrier that makes my presence in those spaces feel even more significant,” he sated.
He even frames this moment as more than competition, it’s a fight for survival, visibility, and dignity.
“Sport has been an entry point to all of other attacks on the trans community in what seems to be a coordinated effort. The idea seems to be that if they can paint transgender people as dangerous in sports, they can more easily say we are a threat everywhere else. And unfortunately, it has been working. It has been overwhelming at times, but I also think of it in sports terms: the fight for liberation is a long distance event, not a sprint, and I know I have the endurance to continue on.
Travel, Identity, and the Weight of Visibility
Recent policy shifts have directly threatened Mosier’s ability to travel, advocate, and even feel safe. “Earlier this year, I was worried about the new passport rules, the confusion that followed about enforcement and what it actually meant. In the past, I’ve been stopped by TSA and questioned about my gender and my identification. It was terrifying. So for the first part of the year, I declined multiple international speaking engagements and chose not to travel to race out of concern. Ultimately, I decided that traveling for the World Championship was worth it, and a risk I was willing to take.”
Despite lighter travel and competition schedules, Mosier says that his advocacy work feels more important now than ever.
He is also candid about the emotional weight of being visible at such a contentious time.
“It definitely requires balance. I want to show up and represent for my community, fully aware that doing so puts me in the crosshairs of people with powerful platforms and an even deeper hatred of trans people.”
“At this point in my life as an athlete and as a trans person, I know I will never be enough for the people who don’t think I belong. For them, my race results will never be enough, my sport will be too niche, I won’t be “man enough” to be there, or they’re find some other way to downplay my presence. But that’s fine – those people aren’t in a World Championship! I know I am not defined in my worth, value or validity by my race results on any given day. I’m fortunate enough to have great people in my life that remind me of that constantly, which helps me balance the emotional toll of visibility in these times.
For Mosier, this race marks more than a return, instead, it is a full‑circle moment. Nearly a decade after helping change trans‑inclusion policy, he finds himself competing internationally while those policies are being dismantled in many places.
“In my first international competitions, my presence was about raising awareness of trans people in sports and fighting for a pathway to compete. Now, nearly a decade later, it feels like we are not fighting for access, we are fighting for our lives. To pull on a Team USA uniform and represent the United States internationally feels conflicting, but I believe that when I suit up I can represent the very best of the United States: the values of love, inclusion, possibility, and joy,” he stated.
Message to Trans and Nonbinary Athletes
Finally, what Mosier wants to say to others watching and aspiring: belonging is not conditional.
“We belong. We deserve the opportunity to be our authentic selves and pursue our passions, just like anyone else. Everything that is happening right now is designed to make us stop showing up and stop doing the things that bring us joy. But in this moment, showing up and doing what you love is an act of resistance and self love. I hope anyone following my journey, regardless of their identity, will keep showing up, for themselves and those around them.”
