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Laurel Hubbard at the Gold Coast 2018 Commonwealth Games. (Photo by Dan Mullan/Getty Images)
Laurel Hubbard at the Gold Coast 2018 Commonwealth Games. (Photo by Dan Mullan/Getty Images)

SocietyJune 24, 2021

How Laurel Hubbard’s road to Tokyo is forcing a rethink on what inclusivity really means

Laurel Hubbard at the Gold Coast 2018 Commonwealth Games. (Photo by Dan Mullan/Getty Images)
Laurel Hubbard at the Gold Coast 2018 Commonwealth Games. (Photo by Dan Mullan/Getty Images)

The trans weightlifter’s inclusion in New Zealand’s Olympic team has generated debate about transgender athletes and sport. But it has led also to a global conversation about how we design our systems to be safe and inclusive, for everyone, writes Laura Walters.

Kiwi weightlifter Laurel Hubbard is making global headlines after becoming the first transitioned athlete to qualify for the Olympic Games. The 43-year-old — set to be the fourth oldest weightlifter at an Olympics — has qualified for the women’s 87kg-plus category, and is seen as a genuine medal contender for Tokyo. Her qualification comes after what could have been a career-ending injury at the 2018 Commonwealth Games, when she suffered a broken arm.

The Aucklander, who is known to be a private person, returned to competition in 2019 and performed strongly in 2019 and 2020. Following the news her selection had been formalised, Hubbard said she was “grateful and humbled” by the support she’d received from so many New Zealanders.

“When I broke my arm at the Commonwealth Games three years ago, I was advised that my sporting career had likely reached its end. But your support, your encouragement, and your aroha carried me through the darkness,” she said. “The last 18 months have shown us all that there is strength in kinship, in community, and in working together towards a common purpose. The mana of the silver fern comes from all of you and I will wear it with pride.”

And while there has been support from athletes and the public — both in New Zealand and globally — there has also been questioning and criticism. Some of it amounts to bigotry and barely disguised anti-trans rhetoric. As a 2020 Human Rights Commission report highlighted, people in the rainbow community continue to face high levels of discrimination, and sporting and physical education contexts can be some of the most unsafe environments. “This is related to the highly gendered and binary organisation of some sports, and the overt homophobia, biphobia, and transphobia pervasive in these spaces,” the research found.

Others raise questions of fairness — particularly for cisgender women — and what the evidence says in regards to the physiology of those who have transitioned from male to female.

A third group hails it as a win for trans rights, and the inclusion of transgender and transitioned athletes in elite sport. Those in the supporting group include Hubbard’s Australian rival Charisma Amoe-Tarrant and Jacinda Ardern.

But former high-level cyclist Kristen Worley says this should not be viewed as a trans issue. This is a broader discussion about design and human behaviour. “This becomes an everybody issue,” she told The Spinoff.

Worley is a transitioned athlete, who was the first person to go through gender testing under the IOC’s 2004 rules. Under those policies she was physically, sexually and psychologically violated. She has since successfully brought a human rights case against the IOC and other international sporting bodies. As a survivor, Worley is now working with the IOC to overhaul its systems, and to create best-practices rooted in the principles of “do no harm, health and wellbeing, and connected ecosystems”.

Kristen Worley. Photo: Supplied

The modern-day Olympic movement was designed by men, for men, and to entertain men, she said. “The issue is that women were never part of the discussion; diversity was never part of the discussion, because the design was eurocentric … Saying that somehow this is going to affect women and women’s sport has nothing to do with it. It’s the male executive design and colonial sport system … It has nothing to do with Laurel Hubbard, it’s a behavioural design issue of our system — it’s not a trans issue.”

Rather than trying to retrofit certain aspects of diversity (such as the inclusion of women, different ethnicities, abilities or trans people) into the existing system, Worley is championing a significant pivot of the Olympic movement — and sport, more generally. That means thinking about inclusion and accessibility at the front end of the design.

While much of the discussion around Hubbard’s selection has focused on whether she has an unfair physical advantage, there has been little discussion about the vision of the Olympics. The IOC’s website says: “The vision of the International Olympic Committee is to Build a Better World through Sport.” However, there have been a lack of policies to support this vision to date. Worley said that was now changing as part of soon-to-be-announced best practice guidelines that have been described as having the potential to “change human behaviour”.

New Zealand researchers also support a system overhaul. Following a 2019 University of Otago study, researchers recommended a radical change to what they described as “the outdated structure of the gender division currently used in elite sport”. At the moment, the system is reliant on comparing apples with oranges, due to a binary view of gender.

In order to qualify for Tokyo, Hubbard had to meet the International Weightlifting Federation (IWF), IOC and NZ Olympic Committee eligibility criteria, including IWF eligibility criteria for athletes who transition from male to female based on IOC Consensus Statement guidelines.

In 2015, the IOC changed their transgender guidelines, meaning athletes who transition from male to female can compete in the women’s category without requiring surgery to remove their testes – provided their total testosterone level in serum is kept below 10 nanomoles per litre for at least 12 months. While these guidelines exist under the guise of creating a fair playing field, Worley says they do anything but. The 2015 changes were in response to the legal challenges faced by the IOC, and were not based on scientific research, she said. The policy has been challenged by researchers who found a person who had undergone puberty as a male, retained a physical advantage.

But Worley said the poorly designed policy also put transitioned athletes at risk, by starving them of the hormone they needed to function and stay healthy. She likened it to running a car without gas — in an effort to force those with XY chromosomes to assimilate to those with XX chromosomes, athletes were unable to recover and eventually their bodies would fail.

Worley said there was a need for greater understanding and focus on the endocrine system, and how the disruption of the hormone feedback loops impacted athletes’ physical health, regardless of the level of competition. So, while the current policies mean athletes like Hubbard are able to compete, they also put those same athletes’ bodies at greater risk, introducing yet another barrier to inclusion.

These rules are currently being viewed within a discussion of a right to compete, as the mainstream lacked the language, understanding and articulation to discuss the broader issues of athletes’ safety and physical wellbeing, Worley said. “What we do with the gender question is that we’re hurting individuals. And we’re taking away from their sexual health, their metabolic health, their cellular health, and the multiple contraindications that are occurring in their physiology.”

That was not what success and inclusion looked like, she said. “That’s a design issue. We’re trying to fit a square peg into a round hole. And we’ve done that with multiple diversity issues, and what’s happening is it’s splintering all the way around.” Until bodies like the IOC showed leadership in this area, and helped educate other sporting bodies, and the general public, the conversation would continue to focus in the wrong direction, she said.

This is apparent in the recent spate of policies in the US, UK where there has been criticism of the inclusion of transgender athletes, ranging from concern over fairness for ciswomen, through to blatant anti-trans programmes.

In New Zealand, Sport NZ’s draft inclusion policy was met with pushback from more than 40 former Olympians, who say they are concerned about “fairness and safety in all sport”, arguing the guidelines ignored the rights of female athletes. This was swiftly followed by a petition calling for further consultation on the guidelines, which aims to address some of the barriers faced by roughly 50,000 trans and non-binary people face in playing sport.

The minister for sport, Grant Robertson, has been quick to say politicians should leave the creation of international guidelines to bodies like the IOC. He did, however, say he preferred an approach grounded in inclusion. “If we can all agree that we want all New Zealanders to have the opportunity to be part of sport … I think that’s a good starting point, and then we can work from there,” he told RNZ.

But in a select committee hearing on Wednesday, Robertson pushed back against some of the opposition to the Sport NZ, Hockey and Rugby policies, saying the issue of transgender inclusion in sport was currently being “conflated” and “grossly’’ exaggerated.

Worley said she supported many of the concerns being raised by athletes and commentators. “That is a natural response of not knowing.” It was now up to international bodies like the IOC to overhaul the way they designed their systems, and provide leadership for the rest of the world — something they had failed to do to date.

There was reason for hope, she said, in the direction the IOC and others like FIFA were headed, and in what that could do for society, more broadly. “Because the role of sport has this kind of network piece that can actually influence a greater society. And that’s what we’re trying to build: a movement.”

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DR CAROLINE ANSLEY AS A YOUNG GIRL. PHOTO: SUPPLIED
DR CAROLINE ANSLEY AS A YOUNG GIRL. PHOTO: SUPPLIED

SocietyJune 24, 2021

We, the children of Centrepoint, are breaking through the silence

DR CAROLINE ANSLEY AS A YOUNG GIRL. PHOTO: SUPPLIED
DR CAROLINE ANSLEY AS A YOUNG GIRL. PHOTO: SUPPLIED

As Centrepoint once again becomes a focus of media attention, Dr Caroline Ansley, a survivor of the North Shore commune, asks why the work of grappling with its legacy continues to fall on those who suffered.  

The most recent cover article of North & South left a greasy, nauseated feeling in my stomach. The article, headlined ‘Inside the Mind of a Centrepoint Abuserfeatures an in-depth 2014 interview with a prominent adult of the Centrepoint Community. He was jailed for sexual offences with children, and continues to exert significant influence over former members of the community to this day. 

Reading his words took me back to my own childhood experiences of abuse at the hands of a different Centrepoint adult. Throughout the interview, he seemed to reduce each of his offences to something smaller, which left me feeling a little bit smaller. “I pled guilty to both my charges. And that was the end of it,” he said. “I feel unhappy that she’s out there thinking that I’m some kind of monster. That seems really weird to me.” 

The casual reference to many more undocumented and unlitigated offences with nameless, forgotten children and teens, made me think of my own discarded innocence. “There was a whole lot that I didn’t get charged for, so I kind of figured I broke the law, and I deserved the consequences.” 

Then, there’s the ease with which he seems to have moved on since destroying young lives. “I find that pretty surprising that I would be such an important part of her life, when I can barely remember. When we were charged, it was quite difficult feeling guilty for something that I didn’t remember doing.” The failure to offer any heart-felt remorse, or even a hint of understanding or insight into the effect of his actions – unspeakable trauma, which I know personally – caused me to catch my breath.

It was unnerving, but it was not surprising. 

Photo: Supplied

The documentary Heaven & Hell: The Centrepoint Story, which aired on TVNZ last month, ended with the statement that 60 adults from the community had been approached to be interviewed, but only four had participated on camera. I’m informed by production that only a handful more would engage in any form of conversation. Considering that there were hundreds of adults who lived at Centrepoint, many of whom enabled an environment of abuse, it speaks volumes that so many have chosen to stay silent. 

Is this silence meaningful? 

An open letter to the former Centrepoint community has been live on the website I manage for the last four weeks. It invites the adults of the community to grapple with the awful truths of the harm that happened to many of the children who lived at or visited Centrepoint. It asks for restitution. It asks the adults to put their needs and interests aside, and work to repair this history. There has been silence here too – fewer than 10 adults who lived at the community have stepped forward to offer their support. 

How are we to interpret the silence? Does it mean the adults of Centrepoint are thinking and processing, and that a heart-change is slowly occurring? That they simply need more time to become fully awake to their role in what happened to the children of their community? Could they be appalled, as I am, by the thinking of the prominent Centrepoint member in the North & South article, and are now squirming with embarrassment to be associated with him? 

Or is the silence a marker of a lack of capacity to step up and be accountable, because they do not have the maturity needed to repair the brokenness? Does the silence represent a wariness to trust, because years of over-exposure and shaming by the media has left a vulnerable group of people terrified of what might happen if they stick their necks out? Are they wrestling right now to find a safe way to engage, but haven’t yet taken the first step? Do they remain under the influence of powerful former members of the community, and lack the courage to break their silence? Or does it mean that they don’t consider that this is their problem to solve?

Perhaps I am not generous enough and I just need to wait a few more months before the evidence of change will rise to the surface. But I have waited over 30 years already, and I am getting impatient.

Dr Caroline Ansley in 2021 Photo: TVNZ

Since the documentary aired, the stories of the harm experienced by children of the community have been flooding in. Underneath the nirvana of sexual progressiveness, experimentation and freedom that some of the adults fondly recall, there were boys and girls being subjected to unspeakable horrors. Now, the children of the community are throwing off the cloak of shame they have been living under for most of their adult lives. They are starting to break through the silence.

I often wake up in the morning to news on the radio of injustices being brought to the attention of the nation, and dignified requests for accountability from the wronged parties. In the last month we have heard updates from the Royal Commission of Inquiry into abuse of children in institutional care. We have also heard about the request for an apology from the government for the dawn raids of Pasifika households in the 1970s.  

I wish we had a place we could take our injustice to, be it the government, the police or even a dead guru. But we don’t have that. Instead we have a nebulous, disparate group made up of our weak and emotionally immature parents and their old friends, hiding out in towns all over New Zealand (that is, if they didn’t flee the country altogether to escape prosecution or shame). They have been able to get on with their lives, while we are left to tidy up the mess. They have chosen silence. 

While I may ask for accountability from the generation who were meant to protect us, I am not interested in hearing from a paedophile who cannot even admit that is what he is. Based on his interview, there appears to be no capacity there for the growth and reflection that is needed to look back over one’s life and see that one did serious, tragic harm. This self-examination is a task for a mature person with strength, courage and emotional resilience. Not many people have what is needed to own such devastating wrongs without their centre collapsing. 

The adults of Centrepoint Community who allowed and even condoned the horrors, are our parents, our aunts and uncles, or our family friends. We have to make sense of what they allowed to happen. We have to try to find a way to integrate it into our lives so it doesn’t destroy us and our children. And we have to navigate an ongoing relationship with them. 

I have learned that it is simply not possible to just expel them from our lives because whether they are with us, estranged from us or dead, they stay in our hearts for our whole lives. As time goes on, the gulf between what they left us with and what we deserve just gets wider and wider. We can attempt to attend to our own healing, but ultimately, restitution and reparation are what is needed to heal our relationships with these people. 

And this daunting mahi cannot be done in silence.

Dr Caroline Ansley shared her personal experiences of living at Centrepoint as a child in Heaven & Hell: The Centrepoint Story. She has been running the Centrepoint Restoration Project since 2016, supporting healing, connection and truth-telling for the child generation of Centrepoint.