Nikki Hiltz is Them’s 2023 Now Awards honoree in Sports. The Now Awards honor 12 LGBTQ+ people who represent the cutting edge of queer culture today; read more here.
Nikki Hiltz exists in awe-inspiring accord with their body, mind and muscle wired directly to soul. Over Saturday brunch, the professional middle-distance runner gets animated as they discuss racing, Taylor Swift, and an unfortunate late-night encounter between their German Shepherd Scout and a skunk, but I don’t catch the full force of their charm until they are in motion. Caffeinated, calorie-loaded, and outdoors in the Arizona mountains, Hiltz can’t stop grinning. Prompted to “pretend” to climb a tree for a photo, they reach up to grab a branch that immediately breaks off in their hand. With a laugh, they launch back up the trunk. Before the photographer or their partner Emma Gee can protest, Hiltz locks in on the challenge for real, completely forgetting to pose.
Only a few hours ago, Hiltz completed a long run, the culmination of 70 miles they cover in the 6,900-foot elevation of Flagstaff every week. Now 28, they also lift weights daily to build muscle and prevent injury. Most people would be ready to collapse, but Hiltz always wants to push their limits just a little bit farther. Reaching high for one more handhold, thus cementing a brand-new tree-climbing personal record, they at last return to earth to tell me about life as a world-class trans nonbinary athlete.
Hiltz’s main event is the 1500-meter race, but they also compete in mile and 800-meter matches. They can cover those distances really, really fast. Hiltz can run a mile in under 4-and-a-half minutes, breaking the previous event record to win the USA Track & Field Road 1-Mile Championship at Des Moines, Iowa’s Grand Blue Mile this April. They are also at the forefront of LGBTQ+ representation in their sport, becoming the first openly nonbinary athlete to ever win a national championship title in track and field this February.
“I feel like I have this responsibility — or opportunity — to be the first and trail blaze for my sport, so that someone else who comes next can maybe have an easier time,” they tell me.
Hiltz discovered their passion for racing while running near the ocean, but they had to combat the obstacle of gendered expectations first. At age six, growing up in Santa Cruz, California, Hiltz desperately wanted to follow their older sister into Junior Guards training — basically lifeguard camp for children — but they initially backed out when the program asked them to wear a girl’s swimsuit.
“I really, really, really wanted to do it, but I didn’t want to wear the bathing suit. I was like, ‘That's not me,’” they recall.
A year later, seven-year-old Nikki spied a protective rash guard top and pair of board shorts in the required color at a local surf shop. They asked their parents and supervisors if they could put their own non-gendered spin on the typical Junior Guards uniform, and with the adults’ blessing, they finally enrolled in the co-ed program.
For a young Hiltz, it was invigorating to put feet to sand without having to conform. “It wasn't gendered,” Hiltz remembers. “It was the first place I could really show up as myself and just have so much fun doing what I loved.”
That feeling would always remain with Hiltz, though their presentation changed for a time during their closeted teenage years. While smashing records and winning six California Interscholastic titles, they hid their own truth from the glare of the spotlight. “A lot of my high school life was burying that part of myself and really going all in on my sport and tunnel vision on running. I didn’t want to come out to myself,” Hiltz remembers. Their accomplishments on the track earned write-ups in the Santa Cruz Sentinel, and they held celebrity status at Aptos High School. “My high school boyfriend and I were homecoming king and queen. It doesn’t get more straight or cis than that!" they laugh in hindsight.
But for Hiltz, high school hetero dabbling was only a phase. During their first year of track and field training at the University of Oregon, a period of forced contemplation following an injury led Hiltz to internally acknowledge their sexuality. Later, after transferring to the University of Arkansas, they publicly came out as queer after finding love on the track with a fellow runner, despite fears about how welcoming Fayetteville would be. The then-couple’s friends provided an impenetrable shield of safety. “My teammates were so close and so had our backs. It was such a pleasant surprise,” they recall.
Secure in that acceptance, Hiltz gained strength and started to run faster than ever. During their college career, they earned six NCAA Division 1 All America honors, awarded only to the top eight national finishers in each track event. Moving forward, Hiltz’s next step was obvious. Professional runners generate most of their income via shoe sponsorships, sort of like being a single-brand, self-powered NASCAR vehicle — and although they race individually, they hone their skills in packs.
After graduation, Hiltz signed a contract with Adidas and moved to San Diego to train with an elite group. By 2019, they had earned their first national championship and set a course record at the Grand Blue Mile in Iowa, among other prestigious accomplishments. “If it’s me and someone else with a hundred meters to go, you have to have a good gap on me if you want to beat me,” they admit without conceit. “It feels effortless. I don’t even know how to describe it. It feels like something has overcome me and it’s just time to go.”
As their racing times dropped, their visibility soared, and their sexuality often made headlines. Hiltz was grateful for the many queer fans who sent messages and occasionally approached them in public. But when it came to paying the bills, being out and proud was more complicated. Corporations, in Hiltz’s experience, were happy to ask them to participate in uncompensated forms of marketing and promotion tied to their LGBTQ+ identity, especially during Pride Month. That work could feel “performative,” Hiltz says. Meanwhile, their actual sponsorship income depended on their performance on the track.
Then, they were subjected to blatant bigotry for the first time in their life. In June 2019, Adidas posted a photo of Hiltz posing with a race-winning rainbow Pride flag to Instagram. The joyful image drew a shocking amount of homophobic comments from the public, and trolls followed Hiltz’s tag in the caption to continue harassment on their own page. Hiltz was surprised, but shrugged off the insults with typical good humor. Still, it signaled harassment to come.
“Flash forward to when I came out about my gender identity — I felt like I had completely forgotten about that part,” Hiltz muses wryly. “I thought, ‘Oh, this is going to be great. I'm going to feel like a weight has lifted. Everyone’s going to be supportive of me!’ Then I was like, ‘...Oh.’”
When Hiltz took to Instagram to tell the world they’re trans nonbinary in 2021, they perhaps naïvely didn’t expect another wave of ignorance and hate. They were just excited for people to use their correct pronouns. Hiltz imagined that coming out about their gender identity would be like opening up about their sexuality, and they were partially right. They received un-hesitating affirmation and acceptance from their friends and loved ones, especially Emma, whom they had been dating for nearly a year. (Emma, a steeplechaser who was the first out athlete at Brigham Young University, could sympathize with the price and power of declaring your true identity.) “I've never experienced any sort of backlash from someone in real life. I feel very lucky and privileged to be able to say that,” they say.
But online, reactionary conservative assholes noticed the word “trans” in proximity to “athlete” and effectively began foaming at the mouth, filling Hiltz’s mentions with twisted and invalidating abuse. Hiltz was astounded to see the sudden mob of internet transphobes mistakenly misgender them in every possible direction, making assumptions about their sex assigned at birth. The inaccuracy of the “criticism” was so pronounced it was almost a little funny — certainly surreal — but also frightening. “All I’ve ever wanted is to be understood in my gender, and I just felt so misunderstood by all these people,” Hiltz says. “People couldn’t even criticize me correctly!”
As much as they tried to filter it out, the public hatred affected Hiltz’s mentality. “You can read a hundred good comments about you, and then that one bad one, that’s the one that sticks with you,” they acknowledge.
At the same time, Hiltz redoubled their advocacy efforts. In 2020, Idaho kicked off what would become a nationwide onslaught of conservative legislation aimed at banning trans kids from participating in athletics. “It’s ridiculous. Sport has opened so many doors for me. It’s just really devastating that they’re not even letting someone have the opportunity to all the possibilities sport can offer you,” they tell me.
Coming back from the interruption of the COVID-19 pandemic to begin the 2021 season, Hiltz felt enormous pressure to succeed on behalf of all trans people under threat in athletics. In Arkansas, where Hiltz earned multiple titles for the Razorbacks at U of A only a few years before, two anti-trans sports bills became law in March and April 2021. By the time they reached the starting line of the U.S. Olympic Team Trials in June 2021, Hiltz was exhausted.
“So much of sport, especially running, is your mentality and your confidence and your belief in yourself. I just felt like that was on the floor. I had nothing,” they explain. They failed to qualify to compete in Tokyo and hit a low point emotionally. “If you would've asked me at the Trials, ‘Do you regret coming out?’ I would’ve said, ‘Yeah, I wish I…’" Hiltz trails off for an instant, then snaps back to attention. “Now, looking back almost two years later, I can say, ‘No, I’m so happy I did that!’ I think you kind of have to go through those ebbs and flows in life.”
Hiltz spent the offseason refocusing on their mental health, then embarked on their own real-life comeback montage. In fall 2021, Nikki and Emma, who were then living together in San Diego, adopted the endearingly chaotic Scout. In spring 2022, they moved to Flagstaff. Having chosen not to re-sign with Adidas when their contract expired in December, Hiltz DIY-funded their own early 2022 pro-racing seasons via T-shirt sales. “That’s when I went on this unsponsored journey to find a brand that did align with my values, and actually put their money where their mouth is when it comes to inclusion and diversity,” Hiltz explains. They found that support in Lululemon, who brought them on as a global ambassador in June 2022. Lululemon, an activewear company primarily known for its yoga leggings, only sponsors a small number of elite athletes across a variety of disciplines. In contrast to more traditional shoe sponsorships that hinge on the results of competitive athletic performance, Lululemon valued Hiltz primarily for their influence as an out trans nonbinary running star, whether they win or lose on the track.
The combination of reduced pressure and increased financial security proved to be just what Hiltz needed. In August 2022, they won Raleigh North Carolina’s Sir Walter Miler with a new personal best time of 4:21.89, breaking the state record in their category. The feat earned Hiltz a bonus of $5,000, which they used to help cover costs for the first in-person Nikki Hiltz Pride 5K fundraiser benefiting The Trevor Project.
Hiltz has carried the momentum into 2023. While they didn’t finish first place at February’s Millrose Games in New York, they nonetheless achieved a victory when NBC’s race caller used Hiltz’s they/them pronouns correctly throughout event coverage. Since Hiltz came out as nonbinary but runs in “women’s” events, they have often been inadvertently misgendered by race callers who are accustomed to using she/her pronouns. “This is the first race I can go back and watch and not get misgendered at all,” Hiltz smiles. “That’s the standard now! All the announcers are like, ‘Oh okay, we can do it.’”
The following weekend, Hiltz made history at the Indoor Championships and in April, they repeated their 2019 win at Iowa’s Grand Blue Mile. They credited their success to the LGBTQ+ Iowans waving Pride flags along the final stretch of the course, and donated their $2,500 bonus to the Iowa Trans Mutual Aid Fund.
Runners compete individually, but they function as a group. Speed records are set when they run alongside each other, collectively motivating everyone else to move faster. In middle-distance running, one person often acts as the “rabbit,” setting the pace for the race and helping others who “kick” into high speed near the finish to properly allocate their energy to achieve their fastest times.
In competition, Hiltz is the runner who surges to pull ahead in the final lap — their “kick” is awe-inspiring to behold. But when it comes to trans representation in elite sport, Hiltz has assigned themself a role more akin to that of the rabbit. As the first prominent nonbinary athlete in their discipline, they lead the pack with the intention that others will eventually surpass them.
After the 2022 Sir Walter Miler in Raleigh, Hiltz was approached by a cis mother who told them that their nonbinary child “felt safe enough to come out to me because they know that I’m a Nikki Hiltz fan.”
To Hiltz, that kid is the point of the story. Contributing to the comfort and safety of even one queer child is a victory on par with breaking North Carolina’s mile record. “I have all this privilege. I feel like I should be using it to help get more people in the door, and open the door for others,” Hiltz says.
That group mentality comes naturally for a runner. “I always share, I always run with people,” they explain. “It’s kind of this group grit where I’m like, ‘I’m not alone. There’s all these other people on their own journey, suffering through this long run at 7,000 feet together.’ Whenever I can share miles with people and be in that suffering together, it feels very peaceful in a way,” they reflect.
Tragically, queer suffering is all too easy to come by. On March 31, 2023 — the International Transgender Day of Visibility and Hiltz’s two-year anniversary of publicly coming out as trans nonbinary — new World Athletics regulations came into effect barring trans women from participating in female world rankings for track and field even though, as the governing body told CNN, there aren’t even any trans women vying for placement at present.
At times, Hiltz’s trail-blazing can feel bittersweet, since competing requires delay of gender-affirming treatment they would eventually like to pursue. As is their habit, Hiltz frames the dilemma positively, focusing on their eventual goals. In 2024, they’re aiming to medal at the Summer Olympic Games in Paris. After that? Hiltz will figure out the next step.
“So many athletes are lost or don't know what they’re going to do as soon as they're done with their sport. ‘What’s next?’ That’s the scariest question to ask a professional athlete, because they're so honed in,” Hiltz says. “For me, I know what’s next and I'm really excited for that next chapter to start testosterone, and have top surgery, go on that whole journey. Yeah, relive puberty, I guess!”
Hiltz smiles when Scout returns from a walk with Emma, joining Nikki to slobber enthusiastically in support. “Way back to the beginning of Junior Guards, I felt, ‘I want to do this so bad. I want to play on the beach with all my friends, but my gender identity’s bigger than this,’’' they reflect. “I’m going to choose that over and over again before my sport.”
With that attitude, Nikki Hiltz will always claim victory, no matter what happens on the track. Whether they’re breaking tape at the finish line, sprinting to the ocean, or scaling a Ponderosa pine, Hiltz is truly undefeatable, the rabbit for a rising generation and a champion in their own right.
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