If you or anyone else Googles me, it’s all there. Going all the way back to high school. It’s all there. Standout girl’s basketball athlete who earned a scholarship to play women’s college basketball at the University of Michigan. Two-time LSJ player of the Year, Big 10 Honors, WNBA Draft, Basketball Coach, and then “I Can Only Be Me”, where I came out publicly as Trans. And after that, a multitude of mentions on Trans Awareness and issues; a podcast; a blog; workshops; national speaking engagements and panels; an appearance on Dr. Phil for crying out loud; and of course, photos. It’s all there and easy to find. I know this. I am more than OK with this. There is a but though.

It has always been important for me to use my voice and whatever platform I’m given to speak up and speak out. I feel a responsibility to do that. It’s important for every single Trans person coming behind me that I do all that I can to make this world a better place for them. And so I try. I try hard to be a good advocate; I try hard to have the necessary conversations. I try hard to share information about what it’s like to transition. I try hard to show younger Trans people and their families that there is a light at the end of the tunnel. I try hard to be a good role model and example. I’m trying and this work makes me feel good… because it matters. At the beginning of all of this, after I came out publicly, I felt like I had a decision to make; do I transition and live the life I’ve imagined quietly and happily or do I transition and proclaim it loudly and proudly? I chose the latter and two things have been central to that decision: 1) I can only be me, and 2) if it helps just one person. There is still a but though.

Playing basketball was my entire life growing up. It is all I cared about. Psychotically even maybe. But that’s why I was good. I didn’t have time for anything else. I didn’t want to have time for anything else. All I wanted was to be great at basketball and so I poured everything I had into it. (a trait about myself that I just have I guess). And it worked. I was great at basketball and I loved it with every fiber of my being. It was who I was at the time. There are articles about how ‘basketball’ is synonymous with ‘Ingram’ because it was in all of us. And everything was going according to plan. My playing career was doing what it was supposed to do. I was heavily recruited and provided an opportunity to attend THE BEST UNIVERSITY IN THE COUNTRY for free because I was good at a sport. It was a dream.

At Michigan, dream still going. I started all but six games of my career at Michigan. I’m still ranked in the Top 10 in four statistical categories. I got selected for the Big 10 Tour to play overseas between my freshman and sophomore years. I was Big 10 Honorable Mention and All-Conference; went to the NCAA Tournament twice; have played in front of thousands of people, and after all the sweat, tears, and time, I was drafted to the WNBA. IT WAS WORKING OUT. I will never forget seeing my name pop up on the computer as the 44th pick in the 2002 draft by the Sacramento Monarchs. What a day. I can imagine, now that I am a parent, the pride my parents must have felt. All of their time, and money, and sacrifices – WE DID IT! I’m telling you, it was all working out.

So now we’ve briefly traveled through the first 21 years of my life. It was all basketball and for the next 15 years, it would be more of the same except I was on the other side. I was on the bench (for the first time in my life) as a coach and a different kind of leader. But, still connected to basketball. It just made sense that I would coach, to stay involved with the game that my life was built around. I had started my professional career and realized that I was good at other things. A decent writer and storyteller; a communicator; a hard-worker striving for the best results; a good colleague; responsible and determined. Interestingly enough, all of these things I learned from being a basketball player. How to work well with others towards a common goal but also how to set yourself apart individually by being great.

Over the next 15 years, a lot changed. The way I dressed, the way I carried myself, coming out as liking women, moving cross country twice, developing skillsets, going back to school for my masters. And all the while ignoring this little voice inside me telling me that something was off.

When I stopped ignoring that voice, something happened. I found me. I met me. I had the chance for me to meet the world, finally and authentically. And when that happened, I felt like I had another decision to make. It has been difficult to reconcile who I was then with who I am now; to think about something that was such a huge part of my life, my family’s life, and who I was overall and have to reconcile the “women’s basketball thing” with the “being a man thing”. When I was coaching at LCC, imagine standing in front of your team with a full on beard and deep voice and giving them examples from your playing days. Basketball is basketball. Players are players. It’s different though, and there is an added layer of complexity in this situation, at least there was internally for me.

When I think about my time as a women’s basketball player, especially at Michigan, I remember it all vividly. I did it. It was hard and it was wonderful. I love my teammates, I love my coaches, and I love that school. I would be lying if I said it doesn’t cross my mind that I wonder what they all think. Do they think I’m weird? Can I go back to alumni stuff and stand on the court with them for women’s basketball when I’m a dude? Do I want to associate myself with that now that I’m living my truth? Do they want to associate with me? For a while, I think I tried to distance myself from it to protect myself in case I really wanted to be accepted and couldn’t face if they wouldn’t. That’s just a real true insecurity and feeling. Like how do they feel about me now? On the flip side though, I couldn’t care. How could I and continue to live my authentic truth?

Thankfully, I have a couple little answers. One of my former teammates that I played with at Michigan for two years became an official and she was assigned to our league. I remember the first time I saw her when she was going to be officiating one of our games, I was maybe 1.5-2 years into my transition and I just remember being so happy to see her. And I remember her smiling and giving me the biggest hug, almost as if to say, I see you and I’m proud of you. (She also was probably like never forget that you almost drowned me in Cancun because you can’t swim). Then during the pandemic, maybe in 2021 when I was four years into my transition, a group of five of us got on a Zoom call. I hadn’t seen a couple of them since 2002. I was on a Zoom call with three of my other teammates same year as me and our then manager. It was maybe one of the greatest 60 minute time spans in my entire life. I don’t know what it was like for them but for me, to show up with my bearded face and different voice and have them all just be like “oh hey”, was incredible. I appreciate them more than they could know. It was a good reminder to myself that I’m still just me.

It doesn’t make it any less difficult to reconcile though. So, now that I’ve resigned from coaching and plan to put all of my extra time and energy into work that amplifies the voices and experiences of Trans people, I’ve felt more complete than I ever have but guilty about “turning my back” on the thing that was the thing in my life for so long. I can’t be in that space anymore though. Basketball is part of who I was. It isn’t everything, it doesn’t define me, and it isn’t all I’m good at. I wish I had known that sooner. I do love it, (and always will) but I have a lot of feelings about it that make it difficult to think about and be around sometimes. I have feelings of my own failure and regret; I have feelings of disconnection; I have feelings of what if I had known I was Trans when I was younger, would I have even had an opportunity? I think about the people who are haters and would say stupid shit like you wouldn’t have made it – I’d like to impolitely beg to differ – and I think about what it means in my life now.

And here is where that ‘but’ comes in and why even though I’m out and proud publicly, me being Trans or being a former (incredible) basketball player is mine to share in my personal life. What do I mean by that? I mean that for the new people who are coming into my circle or group, I think that if they don’t know, then it’s mine to tell (IF I WANT TO). I mean, while I’m out and proud, the goal for most of us is to just simply live as our authentic selves. For people to meet us as ourselves, for us to walk through the world as ourselves and interact with new people as who we are. Context and environment are important; if you’re in my circle and you run into someone who is Trans or considering coming out and struggling, telling them about me feels like an appropriate lifeline to throw out. If you’re in my circle and you are hoping to bring someone new into our circle, that little fact about me isn’t yours to share just because. If you think that is something that they need to know, I would wonder what kind of person they are from the get go. Being Trans is a fraction of who I am and when you tie me to basketball, you automatically out me. That’s true and in this context, not fair. I think I’m meeting someone as me for the first time but they’re already in, and I don’t love that. I don’t know them, and they don’t know me. This is a tough blanket statement I’m making for me and it doesn’t cover every situation, it’s just like is me being Trans a critical element of the story you’re telling that wouldn’t make sense if it wasn’t part of it? And if so, what’s the story you’re telling? Another important piece of this puzzle is that if you’re in my circle, then I 100% know that nothing you’ve said was said with ill-intent; how the h are we supposed to know how to do this thing? I’m my first Trans me, and probably yours too. I love you for being part of my village.

It is hard to explain. On one hand, I don’t care if every human on the planet knows about me – GREAT. On the other hand, I know that every human on the planet doesn’t know about me and that allows me the space to be me, in addition to the space to do this important work. When I’m tied to basketball because people think it’s cool that I played in college, it opens the door to the most central part of my being and forces me to go back to that place, even if I don’t want to. Forces me to remember what it was like in that body, in that time, and it forces me to tell other people who may not have known, that I’m Trans. It also forces me to face the realization that maybe basketball was my outlet and my refuge, not my great love, but rather, my survival mechanism. I don’t like that on a number of levels.

It is cool that I played basketball in college… kind of. The coolest part being that it was at Michigan. BUT, because I’m Trans, it’s a bit more nuanced than just a cool thing I did. This doesn’t make me mad, it teaches me more about myself and makes me think. It makes me reflect on how far I’ve come and the things I’ve distanced myself from and/or tried to leave behind. I know that it’s easy to know about me. I know that people internet stalk and google as soon as they learn about someone or something new. I know that. That’s all ok. I just think that for me, as I continue to do this work, having the moments and experiences of just meeting and getting to know people as me, mean a lot. I’m not trying to keep a secret or have something over people. In my personal spaces though, it is nice to have a break where you’re just alive as you. Where I just get to experience the world experiencing me.

Be well.

GO BLUE!