I'm the mom. I know who they are.
In the spring of 2026, a California high school senior named AB Hernandez won multiple girls' track events by margins that drew both applause and protest, placing one young athlete at the center of a question that democratic societies have not yet resolved: how to honor inclusion and fairness simultaneously when they appear to conflict. The results from the CIF Southern Section preliminaries were measurable and concrete, but what they mean — whether they represent triumph, injustice, or both — depends entirely on which values a person holds most dear. California's policies permit transgender athletes to compete by gender identity, the governor acknowledges a fairness tension, and the debate advances alongside the athlete herself toward the state finals.
- Hernandez's winning margins — more than four feet in the triple jump, over a foot in the long jump — were too large to dismiss at the elite high school level, forcing the fairness question into sharp relief.
- Roughly ten Save Girls' Sports activists gathered outside the meet to protest, arguing that biological advantages retained through male puberty cannot be erased by training, and that female competitors are losing real opportunities as a result.
- Hernandez's mother reframed the controversy as election-year politics, insisting her daughter is simply a student-athlete being weaponized by outside agitators rather than a genuine test case for competitive equity.
- California's CIF rules remain unchanged despite Governor Newsom publicly calling the situation 'deeply unfair,' leaving policy and stated values visibly out of alignment.
- As Hernandez advances to the state finals in Clovis, neither side shows signs of retreat — the protest infrastructure is in place, the legal framework is unchanged, and the human cost is accumulating on multiple sides of the argument.
At the CIF Southern Section Division 3 preliminaries in early May, Jurupa Valley senior AB Hernandez won three girls' track events by margins that were difficult to overlook. The triple jump gap exceeded four feet over the second-place finisher; the long jump gap was more than a foot. At the elite high school level, those are the distances that separate champions from the field.
Outside Yorba Linda High School, a group called Save Girls' Sports gathered to protest. Their argument was direct: biological differences produce measurable athletic advantages, and those advantages were visible in the day's results. They pointed to Hernandez's performance as part of a broader pattern — one they argue training alone cannot overcome.
Hernandez's mother, Nereyda, offered a different frame entirely. Speaking to the Los Angeles Times, she described the backlash as political theater in an election year, with her daughter serving as a convenient target. She dismissed the protesters as outside agitators rather than genuine community members, and told AB to ignore them. "I'm the mom," she said. "I know who they are."
The case sits within a larger national debate. Supporters of restrictions on transgender participation often cite examples like Lia Thomas — who ranked 462nd on a men's collegiate swim team before winning an NCAA women's national championship — as evidence of a systemic problem. California's CIF rules, however, allow athletes to compete according to gender identity, and those rules remain in place. Governor Newsom acknowledged the tension directly in early 2025, calling the situation "deeply unfair," yet state policy has not changed.
Nereyda Hernandez, speaking through TransFamily Support Services, argued that the real harm is being done to her child by adults who should be offering protection, not political pressure. She noted that AB's fellow competitors have largely shown respect. Meanwhile, Save Girls' Sports activists counter that compassion for one athlete cannot justify closing doors for others — that podium spots, titles, and scholarships carry real consequences, and that defending the category of women's sports is not an act of hatred.
As Hernandez prepares for the CIF finals in Clovis, the margins from that May afternoon — four feet, one foot — remain fixed in the record books, concrete and undeniable, carrying entirely different meanings depending on where a person stands.
At the CIF Southern Section Division 3 preliminaries in early May, a Jurupa Valley high school senior named AB Hernandez won three track events by margins that made the results impossible to ignore. In the triple jump, Hernandez cleared the sand more than four feet ahead of the second-place finisher. In the long jump, the gap was over a foot. At the elite high school level, these are the kinds of distances that separate champions from the rest of the field.
Outside Yorba Linda High School, a group called Save Girls' Sports had gathered to protest. The activists, numbering around ten people according to Hernandez's mother, held signs and made their objections known. The core of their argument was straightforward: biological differences create measurable advantages in women's athletics, and those advantages were on display in the results from that day. They pointed to Hernandez's performance as evidence of what they see as an expanding problem in girls' and women's sports—a widening gap between competitors that training alone cannot close.
When Nereyda Hernandez, AB's mother, spoke to the Los Angeles Times about the backlash, she reframed the entire controversy. The criticism, she said, was not really about fairness or competition. It was politics. This was an election year, she explained, and her child had become a convenient target for campaigns and activists looking to energize voters. She told her daughter to ignore the protesters and their messaging. "Once they started posting about their protest, I thought, 'Wow, it's going to be another crazy year,'" Nereyda said. She dismissed the gathering as outside agitation—people pretending to be parents or community members when they were really just activists from elsewhere. "I'm the mom," she said. "I know who they are."
The debate over transgender athletes in California has become a fixture of the broader national conversation about fairness, inclusion, and what women's sports are meant to preserve. California's CIF rules permit athletes to compete based on gender identity rather than biological sex. Governor Gavin Newsom, when asked about the fairness question in early 2025, acknowledged the tension directly. "It is an issue of fairness," he said. "It's deeply unfair." Yet the state's policies remain unchanged, and Hernandez continues to compete under those rules. AB is scheduled to advance to the CIF finals in Clovis later in May.
Save Girls' Sports activists often point to high-profile cases to illustrate their concerns. Lia Thomas, a University of Pennsylvania swimmer, transitioned from the men's team where she ranked 462nd nationally before winning an NCAA Division I women's national championship. Blair Fleming, a San Jose State volleyball player, became the subject of such intense controversy that opposing teams forfeited matches rather than compete. These examples, supporters argue, show a pattern: retained physical advantages that female athletes cannot overcome through training.
Nereyda Hernandez pushed back against the characterization of her family as the problem. AB has been competing in track since freshman year, she said. Her child is not doing anything wrong. The harassment, she argued in a statement released through TransFamily Support Services, has come from adults in positions of power who should be protecting young people, not attacking them. She noted that competitors themselves have generally shown respect. The emotional weight of a mother defending her child against what she sees as coordinated political targeting is real and present in her words.
But supporters of Save Girls' Sports counter that compassion for one athlete cannot come at the expense of opportunities for others. They argue that girls are losing podium spots, titles, and scholarship opportunities to competitors with measurable physical advantages. For years, anyone who raised these concerns was often labeled transphobic. Now, more families are arguing that acknowledging biological differences is simply a statement of fact, not an act of hatred. They say their goal is not to attack a student but to defend the category of women's sports itself—to preserve it as a protected space for female athletes under Title IX.
As AB Hernandez prepares to compete at the state finals, the tension remains unresolved. California's policy permits the participation. The governor acknowledges the fairness problem. The activists will likely protest again. And Nereyda Hernandez will continue to see the whole thing as a political calculation, a convenient controversy in an election year, rather than a genuine concern about competitive equity. The margins of victory from that May day—four feet, one foot—sit in the middle of it all, concrete and undeniable, meaning different things to different people.
Citas Notables
It is an issue of fairness. It's deeply unfair.— Governor Gavin Newsom, on transgender athletes in women's sports
I told AB, this is a midterm election year. They're gonna hit us hard, because they're using us for their campaigns.— Nereyda Hernandez, AB's mother, to the Los Angeles Times
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
When you look at those margins—four feet in the triple jump, over a foot in the long jump—what do they actually tell us about what happened that day?
They tell us that the performance gap was substantial. At the high school level, those are decisive distances. But the harder question is what caused them, and that's where everyone stops agreeing.
Nereyda Hernandez says the whole thing is political theater. Does that hold up?
She's describing what she experienced—a small group of protesters, media attention, a narrative that felt orchestrated. But you can acknowledge that while also acknowledging that the people protesting genuinely believe there's a fairness problem. Both things can be true.
Governor Newsom said it's "deeply unfair." So why hasn't California changed its policy?
That's the real tension. He named the problem but didn't solve it. Maybe he thinks the political cost is too high. Maybe he thinks the solution is more complicated than the problem statement. Or maybe he's waiting to see how the courts and public opinion move.
What do the competitors themselves think? The other girls in those events?
Nereyda said they've generally shown respect. That's notable. The anger seems to come more from parents and activists than from the athletes competing directly. That gap between what the competitors feel and what the adults around them are fighting about—that's worth paying attention to.
Is this actually about fairness, or is it about something else?
It's probably both. Some people are genuinely concerned about competitive equity. Some people are using the issue for political purposes. The hard part is that both motivations can exist in the same movement, and you can't dismiss the whole thing just because some of it is politically motivated.