My name is Jayda Dominguez, and I’m an 18-year-old transgender athlete. I first came out as trans when I was 11. I remember sitting on the couch one night, talking with my sister, trying to find the name that finally felt like me. We went through a long list “Jayde,” “Jay” and then we landed on “Jayda.” That name just felt right, and from that moment on, I began the journey of becoming who I truly am. As I grew into myself, I found joy in many places like sports, photography, cosmetology—but volleyball quickly became something more than just a game. It became my outlet, my safe space, a way for me to express myself fully and freely. I knew early on that I wanted to play in high school. In 2021, I tried out for the girls' volleyball team at my local high school. It wasn’t easy, I had to fight for my right to play through the Arizona Interscholastic Association. But I made the team. I didn’t break any records or make headlines, and honestly, that felt like a win. I was just another girl on the court doing what she loved. Then everything changed. Before the next season started, Arizona passed a law requiring student-athletes to play on teams that matched the gender they were assigned at birth. I’ll never forget the day they told me. I was pulled out of class over the loudspeaker. At first, I thought I was in trouble. I walked to the athletic office, stomach in knots. That’s when they told me I could no longer play for the girls’ team. My world crumbled. Volleyball had been a part of my identity, a space where I could be myself and suddenly it was gone. My mental health spiraled. I questioned everything, what I loved, who I was, whether I still had a place in the sport that meant everything to me. But then, I made a decision. At 15, I tried out for a boys’ club volleyball team. I had never played the libero position before, and I was going to be playing with athletes three years older than me. But I made the national team. That season, I pushed myself harder than ever. I led in defensive stats, I grew as a player, and eventually, I transferred schools to join a stronger boys’ program. There, I became team captain and continued to lead in performance. If you had told me on the day they pulled me from that classroom that I would still be playing today, just in a different league, I wouldn’t have believed you. This journey has taught me that life isn’t always going to be fair for people like me. Trans athletes face hurdles that others don’t, and often, we’re asked to justify our existence in spaces that should be open to all. I’ve learned that when the door closes, there’s always another way through, if you’re brave enough to try. This fall, I’ll be attending Vermont State University Johnson, where I’ll play NCAA men’s volleyball as a trans woman. There’s still very little representation for people like me in collegiate sports, but I plan to change that. I want other trans athletes to know, we are not alone. We belong here, too. No matter how many times the world tries to tell me I don’t fit, I’ll keep showing up and I’ll keep playing.