Huyxt When ‘Inclusion’ Means Exclusion  NCAA Faces Backlash After Deaf Runner Caroline Hill’s Records Were Erased by a Trans Athlete. Now She’s Asking If NCAA Still Believes Women Matter

In the high-stakes world of collegiate track and field, where every stride counts toward history and hard-earned glory, Caroline Hill’s story hits like a false start at the blocks. A deaf runner from Rochester Institute of Technology (RIT), Hill clawed her way to the top of her Division III program, shattering school records in the 200-meter and 300-meter dashes despite the odds stacked against her. Born profoundly deaf, she relied on visual cues and sheer grit to outpace competitors, turning what could have been a barrier into her superpower. But in a twist that has ignited a firestorm, those records—symbols of her triumph—were swiftly overwritten by a transgender teammate, Sadie Schreiner, leaving Hill to wonder aloud: Does the NCAA still believe women matter?

Hill’s journey to the track began long before the controversy. Growing up in upstate New York, she discovered running as a way to navigate a world that often overlooked her. “Track gave me a voice,” she told Fox News in a recent interview, her words steady despite the raw emotion flickering in her eyes. Scholarships from Division I programs dangled like carrots, but Hill chose RIT for its supportive environment, where she could chase excellence without the roar of massive crowds drowning out her focus. Early in her career, she etched her name into RIT lore: a blistering 24.89 seconds in the 200-meter, a mark that stood as a beacon for future Tigers. Teammates idolized her; coaches hailed her as unbreakable.

Then, in the fall of her junior year, everything shifted. Sadie Schreiner, a biological male who identifies as a woman, joined the women’s team. Under the NCAA’s pre-2025 transgender inclusion policy, which allowed athletes to compete based on gender identity after hormone therapy, Schreiner was cleared to run. What followed was, in Hill’s words, “shocking.” At Schreiner’s very first NCAA women’s meet, she didn’t just compete—she dominated. The 200-meter record? Gone, eclipsed by seconds. The 300-meter? Erased just as effortlessly. Hill watched from the sidelines, her hard-fought legacy reduced to footnotes in the record book. “It felt like my achievements were invalidated overnight,” Hill recounted in a New York Post op-ed that has since gone viral, amassing thousands of shares and sparking debates from campus quads to Capitol Hill.

The erasure wasn’t just statistical; it cut deeper. Hill described the locker room as a space turned tense, where privacy evaporated and discomfort simmered. “We were told to embrace inclusion, but it came at the cost of our safety and dignity,” she said. Even after President Donald Trump’s February 2025 executive order barred transgender women from women’s sports—prompting the NCAA to swiftly revise its policy on February 6—Schreiner lingered. For a full month, Hill alleges, the athlete continued using the women’s facilities and training with the team, despite being ruled ineligible. RIT coaches, according to Hill, offered no formal heads-up, leaving female runners to navigate the awkward limbo in hushed tones. “It was like gaslighting,” she added. “They acted as if nothing had changed.”

The backlash has been thunderous, a chorus of voices demanding accountability from an organization once synonymous with fair play. Riley Gaines, the former University of Kentucky swimmer who tied for fifth with transgender athlete Lia Thomas in the 2022 NCAA championships, has become Hill’s fiercest ally. “Caroline’s story is every woman’s story in this fight,” Gaines posted on X, where her plea garnered over 13,000 likes. Hill, initially an anonymous plaintiff in Gaines’ 2023 class-action lawsuit against the NCAA, stepped into the spotlight this August, publicly joining the fray. The suit, now bolstered by nearly three dozen female athletes, accuses the NCAA of Title IX violations by allowing biological males to “steal” titles, records, and opportunities from women. “These aren’t just numbers,” Hill emphasized on GB News. “They’re the blood, sweat, and tears of girls who train their whole lives for a shot at equality.”

Critics of the NCAA’s old policy point to science as their sharpest weapon. Studies, including those from the Journal of Medical Ethics, underscore the enduring physical advantages—up to 10-12% in sprinting events—that males retain post-transition, even after testosterone suppression. For Hill, a runner already compensating for her hearing impairment, the disparity felt insurmountable. “I trained harder than anyone, but biology isn’t something you can outrun,” she said. Advocacy groups like the Independent Council on Women’s Sports (ICONS) have amplified her voice, tweeting clips of her Fox News appearance that racked up 20,000 views in days. “When a man joined her women’s team, Caroline lost records, privacy, and trust,” ICONS captioned one video, igniting replies from athletes worldwide sharing similar scars.

Yet the debate rages on, a powder keg of passion and principle. Transgender rights advocates argue that exclusion perpetuates discrimination, citing the mental health toll on LGBTQ+ youth. “Sport should uplift everyone, not gatekeep based on birth,” one X user countered in a thread with 500 replies. The NCAA, mum on specifics amid the litigation, faces mounting pressure. In September 2025, Gaines scored a procedural win when a federal judge denied the organization’s motion to dismiss, paving the way for discovery. Hill, now graduated with a degree in graphic design, channels her energy into advocacy, speaking at events and urging reforms. “A line needs to be drawn,” she declared. “Inclusion can’t mean exclusion for half the population.”

As fall leaves turn in Rochester, Hill laces up for road races, her competitive fire undimmed. But the question lingers like the echo of a starting gun: In chasing progress, has the NCAA lost sight of the women it claims to champion? Hill’s erased records may be restored one day— the lawsuit demands just that—but the deeper wound to trust in women’s sports? That’s a sprint toward healing that could take years. For now, her voice, once silenced by policy, roars louder than ever, a reminder that true inclusion starts with fairness. In the end, as Hill puts it, “Women matter. Our stories matter. And we won’t let them be rewritten.”