By Alan Marley
I’m a man.
I know what that means biologically, socially, and ethically. I was taught to lead where appropriate, to follow where necessary, and—perhaps most importantly—to respect women. That’s why I can say with complete honesty: I would feel ashamed competing in women’s sports or entering their private spaces under any pretense.
There’s nothing virtuous about winning when the playing field isn’t level. When biological men—no matter how they identify—step onto the track, field, or court with women, they bring with them physical advantages that can’t be ignored. Denying that reality doesn’t make it less true; it just insults the intelligence of everyone watching.
I wouldn’t feel pride if I dominated a race against female competitors. I wouldn’t hang the medal on my wall. I’d feel like I cheated—because I did.
And it’s not just about sports. It’s about
space. Women fought hard for their own leagues, their own locker rooms, and their own records. Not because they’re fragile, but because
fairness demands that we acknowledge physical differences between men and women. Pretending otherwise doesn’t make us progressive. It makes us dishonest.
There’s a strange twist in today’s cultural moment. The same society that taught men to protect women’s dignity now celebrates when we ignore it—when we
invade their privacy,
rewrite their achievements, or
occupy their spaces.
That’s not equality. That’s erasure.
I’m not saying this out of hate or fear. I’m saying it out of
respect—for women, for truth, and for boundaries that matter. If being a man means anything at all, it should still mean knowing when to
step aside, not when to
step in and claim what’s not ours.
This isn’t complicated. It’s not even controversial, or at least it shouldn’t be.
I wouldn’t compete in women’s sports because I know I don’t belong there. And deep down, I think most men—if they’re honest—know it too.
