Rachel Browne is a Toronto-based investigative journalist and co-author of Let Us Play: Winning the Battle for Gender Diverse Athletes with her brother Harrison Browne.
As kids, my younger brother and I were opposites in almost every way. I loved makeup, frilly socks and figure skating; Harrison preferred short haircuts, tuxedos and gravitated to karate and ice hockey. We were family, but weren’t very close.
Rachel Browne and her brother Harrison Browne are the authors of Let Us Play: Winning the Battle for Gender Diverse Athletes.
As teens, our paths diverged further. My brother moved around for hockey, his ultimate passion, eventually ending up at the University of Maine where he played NCAA Division 1 women’s hockey. I stayed in Canada to pursue my journalism career. We didn’t see each other that much, so our relationship remained largely a surface-level one.
That started to change in our early 20s, when one day, in the summer of 2013, my brother came out to me as a transgender man. “I’ve been struggling for a while,” he said. “And I really want to get this off my chest.” He told me he had changed his name to Harrison, and no longer used she/her pronouns. I no longer had a sister; Harrison was my brother.
To be honest, I didn’t handle Harrison’s coming out as well as I should have. I didn’t fully understand then what it meant to be transgender; I suggested that Harrison delay coming out, and maybe even reconsider whether he was trans at all. But Harrison patiently explained that he realized he was a man a long time ago, and that in order to feel comfortable in his own skin, he had to live openly as his true self.
Over time, I learned that trans people, especially youth, face immense stress, including deteriorating mental health and suicidal ideation, when their gender identity is not affirmed. Access to strong, supportive relationships with family and friends can help, and make life a lot easier.
Looking back, I wish I’d been more supportive right away. I regret that I didn’t immediately celebrate his coming-out and create a feeling of safety; instead, I recognize now that I responded to Harrison from a place of fear and uncertainty.
The siblings, as seen in 1996 or 1997.
Harrison went on to play professional women’s hockey for the Buffalo Beauts with the NWHL, now called the Professional Women’s Hockey League (PWHL). In 2016, he came out as a trans man to the entire world in an ESPN article, becoming the first openly transgender player in American professional team sports. I was, and still am, struck by his courage. He announced that he would socially transition, but would delay his medical transition using testosterone, a banned substance in the league, so that he could continue playing.
Throughout this chaotic time, as he faced heightened attention online and offline, Harrison and I grew closer as siblings. He leaned on me, as a journalist, to help him navigate the barrage of media requests and interviews. On a more personal level, we bonded over overcoming opposition and negativity held by some family members over Harrison’s gender identity.
I came to see myself as not only his sister and defender, but also as an ally for the broader community of trans and gender-diverse people. I became a fierce advocate for him when other people around us were not as accepting. I started attending his hockey games – something I rarely did when we were younger – and loved seeing how the women’s hockey community fully embraced him.
When Harrison wanted to take testosterone to begin his medical transition, he had to effectively force himself into retirement from pro women’s hockey. I knew this was another tough but necessary step toward him living an authentic life – and I felt better equipped to support him unequivocally.
By 2020, we were both living in Toronto, and, stuck inside during the COVID-19 pandemic, we started working on a book aimed at tackling the misinformation surrounding the topic. We were seeing that trans athletes were increasingly under attack, especially in the United States, and so we felt compelled to combine our expertise and experiences for the cause.
Sadly, that project has become even more timely. A decade after Harrison came out publicly, and nearly five years after we started writing our book, the moral panic over trans athletes has reached a fever pitch around the world. Going after trans athletes continues to be an obsession for conservatives and U.S. President Donald Trump, who spent the very first day of his second term signing an executive order banning trans athletes from women and girls’ sports. That order prompted the NCAA – America’s largest governing body for college athletics – to change its policy the following day.
Even some high-profile progressives have begun turning away from the trans community. California Governor Gavin Newsom recently decried the participation of trans women in sports as “deeply unfair.”
As a child, Harrison Browne, seen here circa 2002, gravitated to ice hockey.
Measures that target gender-diverse athletes, including children, are being pursued in Canada, too. Alberta’s United Conservative government tabled legislation last fall that would disallow trans student athletes from participating in leagues that align with their gender identity. But true equality for trans and gender-diverse people means supporting their freedom in all aspects of life, including playing on sports leagues that align with their gender identity.
Thanks in part to my brother, I’ve come to realize that, as a white, cisgender, straight woman, I have immense privilege, and that comes with a duty to defend those with less of it – people whose very right to exist is under threat. If we want to push back against bigotry, that means all of us looking within. It means getting to know and build trust with the trans gender non-conforming people in your life. And if you don’t know any trans people, ask yourself why that might be.
I am still learning, but my experience with my brother has taught me a few key things about how to be a good ally. Interrogate your own biases; don’t be afraid to say you don’t know something; if you mess up, apologize quickly and make a sincere effort not to repeat your mistake.
And above all: Listen and stay open-minded. Pushing ourselves to be curious and kind can only make our relationships, and our communities, better.