‘Are you sure?’: How trans man Zac Cannell navigates disbelief at his gynaecologist

From confused looks at the gynaecologist to political scrutiny, Zac Cannell says there’s much about life as a trans man in Adelaide that’s still “disheartening and scary”.

Founder and co-facilitator of Trans Health SA and TransMascSA Zac Cannell in Salisbury. Picture: Matt Loxton

When Zac Cannell turns up for an appointment with his gynaecologist, he’s often met with a confused look.

“They’ll say ‘hi sir, who are you here to pick up?’ and I’ll be ‘no, I have got an appointment’ and they’ll say ‘are you sure?’,” says Mr Cannell, who came out as a trans man in his early 20s and started using testosterone at the age of 24.

“Or I’ll say ‘I’m due for a cervical screen’ and they’re ‘are you sure?’ and I’ll be, ‘yes, I know my own body’.

“You don’t need to understand what it’s like to be trans, you just need to have empathy.”

Mr Cannell is at the heart of South Australia’s trans community. He runs the Trans Health SA website, which provides medical information, support services and the latest research for the state’s trans gender and gender diverse community.

Growing up, Zac Cannell “never quite fit gender norms”. Picture: Matt Loxton

The 35-year-old also founded TransMasc SA, a groundbreaking support group for trans men and gender diverse people “assigned or presumed female at birth but who don’t identify as such”, which now boasts 900 members and hosts information nights with doctors and other experts and provides peer support.

When Mr Cannell transitioned from a woman to a man in his early 20s, it was a “sort of rebirthing” for him and his supportive, loving parents.

Together, they chose a new name, settling on one that had been picked by his parents if Mr Cannell had been born a biological boy.

“It was creating an authentic version to express me and to do it with Mum’s support, who birthed me the first time around … was very validating and very exciting,” he says.

“It’s the story I would love for so many other individuals but sadly that’s not the case. I know people who no longer have a relationship with their biological family.”

As a teenager growing up in Elizabeth North, Mr Cannell “never quite fit gender norms” but he didn’t know that being a trans man was even an option – he had never heard of people born in the wrong body becoming male.

He says being a “masculine lesbian”, with a short haircut and wardrobe of jeans, button-down shirts and tees, left him feeling empty. But his “lightning-bulb” moment struck in his early 20s, when he met a young trans woman whose partner was a trans man.

“My response was ‘you can do that?’,” he says.

“There was this instant feeling that this is what I need to do to get on my journey to feel happy ... an overwhelming feeling of how do I make this happen.”

With the support of his parents – who told him “we might not understand it, but we’ll support you” – the then-24-year-old began his transition.

He wore a chest binder, changed his haircut and tried “as many techniques as I possibly could”.

“But there’s only so much I could do without medical intervention when that’s your goal,” he says.

“I had acceptance with my family and most of my friends but now I felt that there was something big missing. It was incredibly distressing.”

Mr Cannell found a sympathetic GP who was prescribing testosterone – with the approval of a psychiatrist – and two weeks later received his first treatment.

“That first injection of testosterone, you know it’s done absolutely nothing but you feel like ‘it’s in my body, the journey is starting’,” he says.

The initial signs of change were a deeper voice, stronger body odour and feeling hungry as muscle growth increased. It took a few years for a full beard to grow.

“It’s not an overnight journey, it takes time,” says Mr Cannell.

He was able to pay for his $10,000 chest operation – or top surgery – with the support of family.

Trans issues are once again in the spotlight after a failed attempt by SA Best MP Frank Pangallo to set up an inquiry into how children are managed.

SA Best MP Frank Pangallo. Picture NCA NewsWire / Emma Brasier

The political move has stirred emotions for Mr Cannell, who fears a backlash for his community.

“It feels as though there’s someone just trying to live my life, that my life’s constantly political and not because I choose it to be so,” he says.

“It frustrates me the misinformation that has been perpetuated, misreporting of health professionals out of context to try and create fear that the media, unfortunately, grabs hold of.

“It further creates more stigma, more fear and it stops people accessing services. When you are in a community or group that’s already under a spotlight, it only takes one thing to go wrong and then you’re treated like this, one piece of anecdotal evidence and then it’s universal.

“It’s disheartening and it’s scary.

“Our message is ‘don’t speak for us without us’.”