© 2026 Zoë Taylor
“All I’m saying is boys shouldn’t be allowed to compete in girls’ sports!” the woman continued. Tiffani’s defenses were shattered in an instant. Everything she had worked so hard to build up, stripped away. How did this woman, this complete stranger even know about her being trans?
None of this made any sense. Before she could say something though,, she felt a hand on her shoulder. It belonged to Liberty, of all people. No gentle brushing of a hand, it was a firm squeeze, grounding, comforting. She had to fight the urge to lean into it instinctively.
“I’ve got this, Barbie,” Liberty said, squeezing her shoulder again, her arm around Tiffani now in a moment of solidarity.
The official’s hand dropped as he spoke the word ‘Begin!’ and Tiffani lunched into range. Liberty blocked the first kick, the dull thud of canvas and pads mixed with the sharp kihap, but left herself open. Tiffani’s back leg whipped around in a slice kick that could cut steel, tagging the side of Liberty’s headgear.
“Point! White!” the official shouted. “Marks!” Liberty scowled at Tiffani, flashing her purple slimline bite guard.
Morgan did not explode, but drifted with a methodical intensity that immediately put the coiled viper on the metaphorical backfoot where Morgan wanted him. He, Morgan, knew his opponent expected an aggressive tiger charging like a raging bull, but as his Sensei said, the tiger does not dance.
He was hunting between the beats. Even as he counted the rhythm in his head, he moved, lunging on the off-beat when the Snake stylist struck, fingers extended like fangs. Morgan simply wasn’t there anymore, and launched into a blitz, a flurry of silent strikes, letting his hands do the talking.
One, two, three taps punctuated with Kya as required by NAMASA rules, off the beat before the boy could even retract his own strike. Morgan backed off, knowing he’d already won the first tap.
“Break! Point! Red!”
“Come on Liberty, get your head in the game!” came the sharp shout of Liberty’s coach from her corner. “You’re not fighting Jade!”
Jade, smiling innocently as she stood opposite the coach at the other end of the ring in Tiffani’s corner, just cheered Tiffani on. “Good shot! Watch your back foot!” she said, as Tiffani nearly bounced right off the mat under Liberty’s rushed assault. She narrowly twirled to the side to avoid being forced out of bounds by the blitz.
“Close the gap,” Morgan’s sensei called calmly as a round of applause went up when Morgan ducked under a viper-like strike, moving for just a moment with the speed of a sparrow instead of a tiger, and though he failed to land the blow, knocked the kung fu opponent off balance enough to press an advantage.
“Spinning heel!” Jade shouted. Tiffani, acting on pure instinct spun her back foot around in time to narrowly miss Liberty’s faceplate. Libertymoved rapidly into her personal space, tapping her faceguard with an open palm. “Point, red!”
Morgan’s opponent lunged from the mark to try and compensate for Morgan’s intensity. Morgan shifted his stance to a fake out defensive Tiger and launched a flurry of blows. The first two missed, but the third tapped the opponent’s faceguard. “Point, red!”
The back and forth continued on both mats for the full minute until, at last, with only five seconds remaining, Tiffani heard Jade shout ‘Flying spin kick now!’ and Tiffani obeyed, felt her feet leave the ground, let her training take control as she spun in the air and landed a strike against Liberty’s faceplate that caused Liberty to reel.
“Foul!” someone screamed from the bleachers. “Come on ref that’s unnecessary roughness!”
Morgan was up by five on his opponent, with five seconds remaining. “Reverse strike now,” he heard his sensei call out, and he spun, allowing his training to take over. He clenched a fist, but crucially, not the fist he used to strike, which was instead an open palm, lightly tapping his opponent’s chest.
“Point, red!”
“Judges?” the referee said, looking to the judges of Tiffani and Liberty’s match. He pointed with three fingers at a 45 degree angle toward Tiffani’s mark. “Three points, white, no foul!”
Tiffani stood in the same position she had landed in from the 3 point kick, her breath threatening to fog her faceguard as she heaved heavily, a mix of excitement and a little bit of genuine fear as Liberty glared, eyes narrowing slightly. “Mark!” the referee barked. Tiffani snapped to ready stance and bounced back to her mark. Liberty grudgingly returned to hers.
For Morgan it was a formality. He wasn’t being a rabbit, although at 5-0 with only a few seconds left it was a foregone conclusion. The Snake stylist attempted a few last second strikes to at least erase the goose egg from the scoreboard, but Morgan’s blocks and weaves disarmed them.
The shrill whistle cut the air like a rabid chainsaw ending Tiffani’s match.
“FIghters, bow to each other!” the referee ordered. Tiffani and Liberty bowed to each other.
“Approach!” he ordered. They approached, standing beside the referee. “Winner, white!” he yelled, raising Tiffani’s hand. Tiffani turned to Liberty and offered her glove in a gesture of sportsmanship. Liberty glanced at it a moment before touching her glove in response. “Good match,” she mumbled around her purple mouth guard.
“Yeah, you too,” Tiffani smiled back at her before she turned to bounce off the mat, while Liberty quietly padded to her corner.
After Morgan’s hand was raised, he silently turned and bowed to his opponent a second time before even being prompted by the referee. The snake stylist returned the bow and even offered a high five, which Morgan returned, at least pretending to be enthusiastic. In reality, he felt empty, hollow inside. Even as he walked to his corner, he felt his heart beat to the drum of the song in his head.
“Instead of emptying my cup, I think I just beat someone over the head with it,” he said as he approached his sensei, who actually gave a small chuckle at that.
“Humility in the face of victory is often more difficult than humility in the face of defeat.” He handed Morgan a branded water bottle, as Morgan removed his face guard and headgear to take a drink. “Go, rest. The tiger must hunt more difficult prey today.”
“Jeez Tiff,” Jade laughed, raising one crutch in salute as she balanced on her good leg with the other. “I didn’t say knock her lights out,” she teased. Tiffani laughed.
“Hey, I pulled! I thought she was faking it until I saw the look in her eyes afterwards. I just don’t think she expected it.”
“That’s good though,” Jen added as she brought out an electric neon green water bottle with the Sparrow branding to hand to Tiffani. “You’ve rattled her, and now, you’re on the radar of everyone in your division.”
“Including me,” Jade said.
“Huh?” Tiffani asked, glancing up at Jade as she guzzled more water.
“We’ve got an empty slot because I’m out with an injury. You’re now NAMASA regged. I can’t give you my seed, but I CAN give you my 14-15 slot in the 6A in a couple of weeks.”
If Tiffani hadn’t already spit her mouth guard into its case, she would have swallowed it.
“Hey,” Amber said, catching up with Morgan. She handed him a cold towel.
“Hey,” Morgan answered, accepting it graciously and wrapping it around his neck. “Did you win? Sorry, your match was over by the time I finished mine.”
“Yeah,” Amber said, smiling at him and flashing her custom fit white mouth guard before spitting it into her hand. “So, want to grab a coke while we cool down?”
“Yeah,” Morgan said. “Hey, Amber, you ever feel like...” he trailed off as more members of Amber’s team came up to join them. “Never mind. I’ll ask you about it later.”
“Oookay then,” Amber said.
“This is about the safety of our daughters!” the shrill shout rang out like a battlecry as Tiffani’s grip tightened on the neon green water bottle. She didn’t even have to look around to know that this was about her, about the kick, about THAT kick.
“Oh are you kidding me,” Jade growled as she and Coach Jennings both turned to approach the judges’ table. Tiffani bit her lip, staring down the angry parent in the Chicago Bulls hoodie. Something in her internal audit just felt wrong somehow.
The platinum blonde hair looked as salon fresh as Tiffani's prior to her turning it into a warrior's braid for the tournament. Game knows game, and Tiffani knew a North Shore Mom when she saw one. No self respecting North Shore parent, transphobe or not, would be caught dead in a ratty old sweater like hers. She looked too poised, too perfect, unlike the woman with the bouncy karate kids in the lobby earlier.
“All I’m saying is boys shouldn’t be allowed to compete in girls’ sports!” the woman continued. Tiffani’s defenses were shattered in an instant. Everything she had worked so hard to build up, stripped away. How did this woman, this complete stranger even know about her being trans?
None of this made any sense. Before she could say something though,, she felt a hand on her shoulder. It belonged to Liberty, of all people. No gentle brushing of a hand, it was a firm squeeze, grounding, comforting. She had to fight the urge to lean into it instinctively.
“I’ve got this, Barbie,” Liberty said, squeezing her shoulder again, her arm around Tiffani now in a moment of solidarity as she bellowed, “HEY BITCH!”
The blonde, shocked by the sudden shout of vulgarity, spun around to berate Liberty, and then went slack-jawed as she realized that it was, in fact, Liberty, and she was standing next to Tiffani with a supportive arm around her.
“The kick was clean and legal. I felt the wind off her pull. She just caught me off guard, alright? I wasn’t expecting it."
"But-" the woman tried to interject, but she might as well have attempted to tell lightning not to strike, or a hurricane to go bother someone else.
"Shut up! I'm not finished. I was psyched out, and that’s on me. If I’m not complaining about it, why in the hell are you? She’s a good fighter, and she’s more sportsmanlike than you. Either back off, or get the hell out of here because there is NO room for that kind of trash talk in this organization.”
Tiffani’s eyes blurred with tears as the woman, completely flustered, dumbfounded, and disarmed, harumphed quietly and stormed away, so she missed the flash of rose gold and the stylus being removed from the hoodie’s front pocket.
Liberty turned to Tiffani.
“Look,” she said, “I don’t know you enough to know whether or not I like you, and I def don’t like being shown up by an unseeded upstart. But that doesn’t give anybody, and I mean anybody, the right to talk like that about you or anybody else in this arena. And I don’t care if they give me an unsportsman penalty for cursing that vapid bitch out either. You have every right to be here, and I look forward to kicking your butt in a rematch at the 6A Global, so you’d better be there, Barbie girl.”
“Wow,” one of Liberty’s teammates whispered, watching the exchange, as Liberty turned to join her. “Damn Lib, remind me never to piss you off,” she laughed and gave her a high five as they left.
Across town Morgan and Amber were sitting at the concession area and catching their breath between matches. One by one, Amber’s teammates had gone to watch other matches or participate in their own, and so it was just the two of them. Amber gave Morgan’s shoulder a nudge with her own.
“What was it you wanted to ask me earlier?” she asked.
Morgan’s grip tightened around the soda cup enough to dent the paper. Amber frowned, but Morgan bit his lip and then turned to face her. “I’ve been keeping something from... from everyone, from my sensei and the tournament, even my mom. I only talked about it to my sister last night because I was having a worse night than usual and it just kind of tumbled out.”
“You mean the real reason you’re so angry all the time?” Amber asked, shooting him a sly smile. Somehow, she saw through his zen calm, his cool dude attitude to the bubbling inferno beneath.
“I think so,” he sighed, paused, and sipped his coke before continuing. “I’ve been running from it all my life, I just never... I never really understood what ‘it’ was until last night. Every waking moment for me feels like a test of endurance just to get out of bed in the morning. Kenpo was supposed to teach me to center myself, to channel my anger, but all it’s done is give me a way to mask it. I don’t feel right in my own skin.”
Tiffani sat in quiet contemplation as she let what had just happened sink in fully. She still couldn’t figure out how that parent found out. Had someone told them? Maybe they recognized her from her TKD tournaments? But those had never been an issue, even after transitioning. Granted she had only participated in a single TKD tournament as a black belt after actually earning her Kukkiwon.
Jade gave her a gentle nudge. “You okay?” she asked. Tiffani stirred.
“Yeah. Liberty seemed pretty sure she was going to lose points for what she said though.”
Jade nodded. “Even if she had good intentions, that kind of language is prohibited, especially around kids. She made a big sacrifice for you. I’m honestly kind of shocked.”
“Would... Would it be weird if I did something nice for her, even though she prob hates my guts by now,” Tiffani sighed. Jade grinned at her.
“No. I think it would be the most Tiffani thing you could do. What did you have in mind?”
Morgan’s hands shook. His normally stoic, almost icy composure had left the building. He put the cup down. “You know what, to hell with it. Amber, I’m not a guy. I... I think I’m a girl.”
Amber didn’t miss a beat. She just smiled and put her hand on Morgan’s opposite shoulder, draping her arm around Morgan’s back. She gave a light squeeze. “I always knew there was something deeper than that Apex act. You might be a hella great fighter, but I’ve seen the way you look at me in a skirt,” she teased.
“So you don’t just think I was checking you out when I thought you weren’t looking?” Morgan laughed out loud. “Oh, thank God. I mean don’t get me wrong. You’re my best friend, but dating is the last thing on my mind right now.”
Amber giggled and put her head on Morgan’s shoulder. “I’m just messing with you, girl. Butno, I totally get you. Whatever you need from me, you got it.”
“Yes? Can I help you?” a female judge wearing NAMASA gear, not the usual polo shirt Tiffani had come to expect, but a blazer jacket with the NAMASA logo on her lapel asked.
“I’m sorry to bother you, but if you have just a second to spare?” she asked. The woman nodded.
“Of course. Our next match isn’t for five minutes. Tiffani Spencer wasn’t it?”
“Sterling, but yes,” Tiffani answered respectfully. “It’s about what happened earlier. I’m new to NAMASA so I don’t know all the rules, but I do know the code of conduct. Liberty Styles broke the sportsmanship rule because she was protecting me from harassment. I know once a sportsmanship judgment is in place it can’t be revoked except by a five panel judgement or by a senior official, so I’m not asking for a reversal.”
“If you don’t want us to confer for a reversal,” the other judge said, but not unkindly, “What is it you want us to do?”
“I want to take the penalty for her. Deduct the points for her conduct from me.” Both judges looked at each other in complete, stunned silence. Tiffani pressed forward. “I get why these rules exist. You don’t want that language used around kids. Heck, kids my age probably shouldn’t even be using it, I get that. But she didn’t have to stand up for me either. She could have just ignored it. But she didn’t. And that’s the most sportsmanlike thing anyone can do. So don’t punish her for doing the right thing. Let her keep her #2 seed. Please?”
A female coach in a red and black tracksuit stood off to one side, quietly listening to the conversation. It wasn’t branded ‘Ed Parker’ but it was branded with the Kanji for Kenpo on the front, as well as the Kanji for ‘Soaring Dragon Temple’ across the back - the school Liberty represented as part of a national team. Tiffani hadn’t noticed her, instead laser focused on the tightly held breath as she waited for the judges’ reply.
“Your request is... highly unusual,” the first judge said, finally. “But if your coach and Liberty’s coaches approve, then I’ll pass your request up the chain of command to a senior judge for a ruling.”
Tiffani turned to see Jen smiling proudly at her, already standing directly behind her. Evidently Jade had told her what Tiffani was planning on doing.
“If this is really what you want, T-Bird, then I have no problem with it. Coach Styles?” Jen called out. The woman in the track suit, who Tiffani only just noticed now, nodded her head.
“Soaring Dragon Temple gives its authorization, and... as a Mom, my personal gratitude. This sport doesn’t deserve you, young lady,” she said with a soft, but respectful smile, stood to perfect attention, and gave Tiffani the sort of deep, respectful bow that was normally only reserved for competitors in the ring. Tiffani,, blushing softly, returned the bow.
“Whatever they decide, at least I’ll know I tried,” she said.
A long, quiet silence had fallen over Morgan and Amber after Morgan’s confession. Finally, he, or rather, she, shook her head. “I don’t know what to do now. How do I stop being the tiger?”
“No one says you have to stop being the tiger,” Amber said reassuringly. “I mean, look at my sister Lib. She’s a one woman wrecking crew. Even I won’t face her in the same tournament if I can help it.”
Morgan cracked a smile and even laughed a little. “Okay, fair point. But how do I stop being so angry all the time? How do I empty my cup instead of using it to give people brain damage?”
This time, Amber burst out laughing. “Oh oh, I gotta write that one down.”
“You like that?” Morgan said. “I even made my sensei laugh with that one.”
“Damn,” Amber giggled. “Okay, so, I’m not an expert on this sort of thing, but I mean, your mom, she’s a doctor? Why don’t you try talking to her?”
“Because...” Morgan trailed off for a moment. “If you want to know the absolute truth of it? I’m scared. She’s not actually my real mom. I mean she’s the only mom I’ve ever known, and I love her, and that’s why I’m afraid. What if she doesn’t want two teenage girls in her house?”
“Like that’s any worse than having a moody teenage boy around?” Amber shrugged. “Come on, Morg. Tori is a sweetheart, and you may not be hers biologically, but you damn well have her soft heart, even if you do try to bury it behind,” she did her best male grunt impression, “Tough Tiger.”
Morgan laughed again. It was probably the most she’d genuinely laughed in months. “Damit, Amber. Stop making so much sense. I’m trying to have a serious brooding angry teenager moment here.”
Amber grinned. “Nope. I already had mine over Liberty this morning, remember? We can’t have two in one day. It’d upset the balance.”
Tiffani was surprised to see Liberty sitting alone near the concession stands. She got in line to buy herself a Coca-Cola, and, thanks to a little hint from Coach Styles, she knew Liberty couldn’t resist a Vanilla Dr Pepper, either. She approached the table, setting Liberty’s drink down in front of her.
“Peace offering?” Tiffani asked.
“Sure, whatever,” Liberty said, waving a hand vaguely at one of the empty chairs. Tiffani took the one across from her, not wanting to crowd her. “What’s on your mind, Barbie?” she asked with only a hint of venom this time, not quite endearing, but, after what had happened earlier, something had definitely shifted in the way she moved and spoke to Tiffani.
“I wanted to let you know I’ve asked that your penalty be applied to me instead. They said they’d pass it along to a higher official for approval, but because both our coaches approved, they’re willing to consider it.”
Liberty looked up from staring at the soda which she hadn’t taken a sip from yet, and stared, squinting slightly at Tiffani. “Why would you do that?” she asked.
Tiffani rolled her shoulders gently. “Why did you stand up for me when you didn’t have to? Jade told me you were taking a huge penalty.”
“Jade needs to learn to keep her mouth shut,” Liberty growled, but sighed. “Look it wasn’t a big deal, okay? I was making a point, and it was my sacrifice to make.”
“And this is mine,” Tiffani said, reaching her hand across the table and offering it to Liberty. “I don’t want to earn rankings in NAMASA based on what some transphobic asshole parent says about me, and I don’t want you to lose ranking over it either. I’m the unseeded newbie, remember? I can afford to take the hit because it literally doesn’t matter to me.
Liberty stared down at Tiffani’s hand for a moment before finally taking it and giving it a squeeze, as she picked up the soda, took a sip, and, her eyes widened. Tiffani giggled and squeezed her hand back before letting it go. “Your mom told me you like Vanilla Dr. Pepper.”
“You really want to know why I stood up for you?” Liberty said as she set the soda down again. ““I’m gay,” she said bluntly. “But I at least have the luxury of not having to disclose it when I register. That’s why I was happy to stand up for you, for my friends, for... for all of us.”
“And that’s why I’m happy to take your penalty,” Tiffani grinned. “You know the metaphor about strands of rope, don’t you?”
Liberty snorted. “Doesn’t everyone? But okay, point taken.” She genuinely smiled now. “You know you’re alright, Barb-, I mean Tiffani.”
“It’s okay. You can call me Barbie, but if your teammates start doing it, I’ll clean their clocks,” Tiffani said playfully, getting a laugh out of Liberty.
“Deal.”