When USA Rugby (USAR) updated its eligibility requirements in February to ban trans women from competing, many players and fans were outraged. Within days, 300 people from around the country were on a call to discuss next steps. Dozens of teams posted messages on their social media accounts announcing their intention not to play without their trans teammates. A fund was even started to support affected players who wanted to pursue legal action.

The trans-exclusionary policy hit especially hard in a sport that’s one of the queerest and most gender-inclusive, where the guiding principle is “every body is a rugby body”, said Cameron Michels, a PhD student whose research focuses on queer and trans players’ experiences in women’s rugby.

“In the US, no one has cared about women’s rugby enough to hold cultural boundaries around femininity and performance, so it’s been perceived and experienced as a countercultural, queer space,” Michels said.

The new USAR criteria fall in line with recent policy updates from a swath of other national governing bodies in sports, including USA Hockey, USA Fencing and USA Climbing, which were precipitated by bans from the US Olympic and Paralympic Committee, citing Donald Trump’s 2025 executive order for “keeping men out of women’s sports”.

While most trans-exclusionary policies in sports face opposition, advocates say that no sport has seen the immediate, collective cry of resistance that US women’s rugby has in the aftermath of its ban. Rugby for All – a grassroots group of women’s rugby players who came together in 2020, when World Rugby became the first international federation to ban trans women – is leading the charge to ensure the sport keeps its culture inclusive. From educating through social media, to hosting virtual meetings, to having conversations with USAR itself, Rugby for All is doing all it can to keep rugby a welcoming space.

“Towards the end of last year, all of us said, ‘We’re getting to the worst point now, and it’s encroaching upon our sport. Let’s go on the offensive, and let’s talk about why rugby is different,’” said Grace McKenzie, a Rugby for All organizer who played for the Berkeley All Blues and New York Rugby Club teams. “With where we’re at with USA Rugby right now, we’re trying not to be as anti-antagonistic as possible, so that we can potentially find spaces for us still to be able to include people.”

‘Creative ways to work around’ the ban

The ban doesn’t just affect the US national teams and elite-level competition; it also applies to local club teams that play for the joy and community found on the pitch or at the team brunch after the game. The new policy also created a third “open” division, to allow for people of any sex or gender designation to play. (USA Rugby and USA Club Rugby did not respond to requests for comment.)

Generally, offering trans or non-binary athletes an “open” division is not seen as a fair and workable solution to trans-exclusionary policies, say advocates; it not only “others” trans people into their own category, but there also likely wouldn’t be any meaningful competition because the number of players would be low.

During the emergency organizing meeting hosted by Rugby for All last month, several solutions were proposed: forming a new, independent league separate from USA Rugby (which would require a large logistical lift); a mass strike and a collective refusal to participate in any sanctioned, or USAR-regulated, play (known as “the nuclear option”); or moving en masse over to the new open category in the hopes that it would force USAR to provide a functional, sanctioned and funded open division for the current 2025-26 season (based on social media posts, this was by far the most popular option).

One major obstacle, however, is that USAR has no plan on how the open division will actually operate, according to minutes from a March senior council meeting of USA Club Rugby, which runs USAR’s club teams. The logistics of the competition process and governance are “still in development”.

Still, the momentum behind the teams moving to the open division together – effectively torpedoing the women’s category while making the open category a viable and competitive division – is a creative and potentially groundbreaking model for other sports to follow, said Chris Mosier, an advocate who has helped many leagues write inclusion policies.

“The open division as a third category – I hope it backfires,” Mosier said. “I love seeing athletes finding creative ways to work around it, and every athlete can look to rugby for inspiration for ways to resist.”

The fight for inclusivity continues

Rugby for All organizers say that USAR should have been prepared for this. It’s had since 2020, when World Rugby passed its ban, to prep for what would happen if a ban reached its shores.

USAR’s CEO, Bill Goren, said in a recent interview that USA Rugby didn’t feel pressure to pass a ban after Trump’s executive order last year, since the organization isn’t federally funded, but had it not complied with the Olympic policy to ban trans women in January, it risked being decertified as the national governing body for US rugby.

For the rest of the 2025-26 season, most women’s teams will not be able to move to the open division while maintaining their USAR-sanctioned status. On the other hand, as long as no one submits a challenge regarding the gender of another player, USAR said it will not enforce the policy or require players to submit documentation or proof of their sex assignment.

“If the whole community does not [report anyone], it obviously protects players, but it just sets up a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ policy within our sport,” says McKenzie. “That still sucks, but it is better than other sports that I think are going to come up with enforcement mechanisms because they have less opposition coming from their communities.”

Most rugby unions the Guardian spoke with plan to allow their trans women players to remain on their teams, hoping that community solidarity holds and no grievances are filed.

For some rugby unions, however, especially those in red states, the threat of losing their 501(c)3 non-profit or USAR-sanctioned status is too great a risk to allow their trans players to remain on women’s teams.

When the USAR policy was first announced, Rosie M checked in with her team, the San Antonio Riveters, to see what she should do. “Everyone was assuring me that this does not change my ability to play with the team, that they would never go to a game where our trans players can’t play,” Rosie said.

But a few weeks later, Rosie received a text from the team president informing her that, while she was welcome to come to practices and participate in friendlies, she wouldn’t be able to compete as a member of the Riveters during competitive play. The team president cited a decision made by its union, stating that its 501(c)3 status could be revoked if it were caught fielding trans women on the team.

“Trans rugby players have been made second-class athletes by rugby unions who implement this policy without moving to create an open division,” Rosie said. “It just feels like something I really love is being taken away.”

The rugby community isn’t prepared to go down without a fight, though. Rugby for All is continuing to work behind the scenes to find solutions and put pressure on USAR to change its policy; currently, it’s building a collective bargaining movement across the sport. The Northern California Rugby Football Union, meanwhile, is preparing for what to do if it needs to move all its women’s teams to a new division or league. In North Carolina, the Charlotte Royals announced their intention to use the open division for any sanctioned matches they participate in.

“There’s a lot of people who are passionate on the organizing side within our sport,” said McKenzie, “so it’s not like we’re going to see all these Instagram posts, and then we’re going to stop talking about this and just accept what happened.”