My name is Jake: The Inside Story of a transgender Journey | SA Weekend

Jake’s gender dysphoria was not a fad or a phase. It was real. And his choice was simple. Confront it head on, or die. Terry Plane reports on how complex, and life saving, Jake’s journey has been.

“I felt trapped as a girl. I really resented that. The true fact is that I’m a boy. I felt my soul was blue, not pink,” says Jake. Picture: Tom Huntley

Jake’s gender dysphoria was not a fad or a phase. It was real. And his choice was simple. Confront it head on, or die As the issue continues to make national headlines – and has even become an election issue – today he shares his story.

And a host of Adelaide experts explain just how complex – and life saving – the journey can be. Terry Plane reports.

When Jake was younger he’d sometimes wonder about his future.

“I’d have a vivid picture in my head of a version of me as a woman, a scientist. But then it would morph into a dude, a man, an artist, painting by a window,” he says.

“Then a little worm in the back of my head would say: ‘Aren’t you a girl?’ But I didn’t feel like a girl. I felt closer to the male end of the spectrum. I didn’t know what a trans person was.”

Jake came out as transgender when he was 14 years old. He told his then school community at the beginning of Year 10.

“It’s a time when you start to come into your own. I was self-harming, I had mental health issues, there was a lot of conflict with my family, I hated my mother, I hated my life. I’d shower in the dark because I didn’t want to think about it,” he says.

“It was a lot to handle. I felt trapped as a girl. I really resented that. The true fact is that I’m a boy. I felt my soul was blue, not pink.”

We’re sitting in a cafe with his mother, who says Jake’s revelation didn’t come “out of left field – it explained a few things”.

Next came consultations with a doctor, then a psychiatrist.

As the first step in his transition, Jake was prescribed testosterone.

Now 17, his voice is changing, but he hasn’t decided how far he wants to take his transition.

“Technically I’m non-binary. I’m as close to male as I need to be,” he says of his life at the moment.

“I’m comfortable with who I am. I’ve grown into myself more since being on testosterone. But if I wasn’t able to transition, I’d be dead.”

Jake at Botanic Park in Adelaide. Picture: Tom Huntley

It started like this: at a restaurant in Melbourne, winter 2018.

A judge and his partner, a former state premier, a school principal and her partner, and your correspondent.

The school principal is talking about an education conference in the US she’s recently attended.

“One of the main topics of conversation was gender transition. It’s sweeping American schools. It’ll come here,” she says.

Fast forward to a few weeks ago.

“It’s not at the same level as in America,” she says. “But there’s been a quantitative change in the last five years.

“There’s an increasing number of kids I’ve been working with who have gender fluidity ideation. It’s becoming the norm. It’s part of adolescent exploration.

“There’s a different approach in young people’s idea of gender. The bulk of young people are experimenting with gender.”

But she does say that, while the idea of gender fluidity among senior school students has become commonplace, very few take it further.

“Maybe two in the last five years,” she says.

“Some kids are changing their name, taking a non-binary name, using pronouns differently.

“But only two, to my knowledge, have gone as far as seeing health professionals about it.”

In part she attributes the increasing numbers of children exploring gender to social media and more celebrities saying they’re gender fluid.

“But it’s also that now it’s easier to get the proper support,” she says.

“It’s getting less difficult for a young person in this situation. And we’re getting better at it.”

Asked how her school was dealing with the issue, she says that in the US the attitude is more likely to be “aggressive intervention”, but as far as she’s concerned “it’s our job to walk alongside them – we go with them”.

It’s an attitude reflected at Adelaide’s all boys Prince Alfred College, where a student recently stood up in front of her Year 12 peers and told them her name was Alice.

“It’s not a matter of choice,” principal Bradley Fenner says Alice told them. “This is who I am. It’s who I’ve always been.”

“It’s been a journey of a couple of years for Alice,” Fenner says.

But the decision to begin to transition came much more recently, he said.

After discussions between Alice, the principal and a small group of senior staff, the school embarked on a “carefully organised sequence”.

First of all, Alice was adamant that she should tell her year level students.

Then all staff were told, followed by a letter to parents later the same day.

A couple of days later, Fenner addressed the whole school then sent a letter to old scholars.

“We’ve probably had a 95 per cent supportive reaction,” he says.

“A minimum number struggled with it, but there have been many in the school community who’ve said they’re proud to be associated with the school.”

Fenner says there will be further communication with Alice about her personal presentation at school – “uniform is an ongoing discussion” – but that “our job is to support her”.

Prince Alfred College.

Dr Damien Riggs is a psychotherapist who works with transgender young people. He has also written extensively on the subject and is a professor in the School of Education, Psychology and Social Work at Flinders University.

His youngest patient experiencing gender dysphoria – generally described as the feeling of discomfort or distress in people whose gender identity differs from their sex assigned at birth – was three.

He quotes international population statistics showing that up to 2.5 per cent of young people experience gender issues.

“This isn’t new,” he says.

“In the past the percentage was probably the same, but they just weren’t coming forward, and that’s likely to have been because adequate services didn’t exist.

“Now we have more appropriate and accessible services, and there’s greater funding for it.” The Women’s and Children’s Hospital has been doing this work for a long time.

“We are born into a world that is largely binary in its thinking,” Riggs says.

“Man/woman. But children know when the category given to them by others is not for them.

“Gender is a very deeply felt phenomenon. It’s not just about genitals.”

Riggs says that, in many ways, transgender children are far more mature than their non-trans peers.

“They’ve thought in great depth about who they are,” he says.

“They’re often so thoughtful and so mature. Research shows that a very low number of trans young people want to preserve their fertility.

“We have to ask an eight year old if they’d like to be a parent one day. It’s one of the mature conversations we have.

“Most eight year olds don’t have to think about that.”

He also believes the wider community is “maturing as a society” in relation to transgender young people, and that parents are becoming more supportive of transgender children.

He says he’s working less these days with parents who have difficulty accepting their child’s gender fluidity.

“We need to keep talking about family relationships and understand that transition makes young people feel better about their gender,” he says.

Another vital point he makes is that the suicide rate of young people with dysphoria drops sharply once they take the first step on the path to transition.

That step can be hormone blockers or hormone therapy, such as testosterone or estrogen.

Riggs also thinks it can be more difficult for some teenagers to move to transition than for prepubescent children, because puberty can create a perception that they’re locked into a gender category by physical changes such as developing breasts for girls and a broken voice for boys.

“We can’t ignore the things trans kids go through,” he says.

“We have to acknowledge that trans kids are human beings.”

Jake, loves playing music and acting and has appeared in the award wining ABC series First day. Picture: Tom Huntley

In simple terms, the steps to surgical transition are 1) discussion with a GP, 2) referral to a psychiatrist for assessment, 3) referral on to an endocrinologist for prescriptions for hormonal drugs, 4) if everyone up to this point is in agreement, surgery, which is available in Victoria and Queensland, although that step is extremely rare for anyone under 18, and then only with parental and/or legal consent and the unlikely willingness of a surgeon.

To get that far, the applicant for treatment must have been through rigorous psychological, social and medical assessments, including an assessment of the likelihood of suicide.

For several decades in South Australia, the only endocrinologist licensed to prescribe hormone therapy for the transitional process was renowned senior consultant Dr Tony Roberts, a member of numerous professional associations, including both the World and Australian & New Zealand Professional Associations for Transgender Health.

He sees about 100 people per year who are seeking hormone therapy.

These days, because of increased demand, two other endocrinologists are able to prescribe the hormonal blockers or boosters.

“Some people think this is driven by doctors,” Roberts says.

“It’s not a psychiatric illness, it’s a personal belief, a strong belief in what you want and what you can be.

“And a strong belief that they were assigned the wrong gender. And people want the right of choice.”

But he points out that the whole process is dependent on the availability of the required medical experts.

He also says some 10-15 per cent of people entertaining transition are advised to “think about it more carefully, that perhaps it’s not right for them”.

“It’s very much about how the individual comes across to you,” he says of the assessment process.

“Some drop out, some go on to surgery, some disappear, some come back year after year,” to have hormone levels tested.

He’s aware that some patients seek the drugs online or overseas.

But he warns expert advice should be obtained “to choose the right drugs for the individual”.

Transcend is a national support group for transgender peopleandtheir South Australian representative is Jane Russo. She says some trans young people have a “battle” at school, but that an institution’s leadership is vital for successful educational and social progress.

“Things are getting better,” she says.

“It (being trans) is more accepted now and young people are more willing to tell their story.

“It’s more acceptable for kids to be who they are. Social media’s had an influence; the world’s opened up.

“The rules on what’s right and wrong aren’t as clear cut now.

“But some trans children hide their gender identity until they’re 18.”

Russo says it’s not uncommon for a trans young person to have to play the role of their birth gender with their father but are free to explore their trans gender with their mother. (Jake says he knows people in this bind. “When they turn 18 they’ll probably never speak to their parent, or parents, again.”)

Like Jake, the World Health Organisation sees gender as a social construct which, in our culture, conflates femininity with women and masculinity with men, but points out the view of gender varies across cultures.

In some places people don’t identify with any gender and in others with multiple genders.

The Medical News Today website defines gender as the way a person feels about themselves, which can be different to their sex as assigned at birth and can only be determined individually.

Riggs says the most vulnerable period for many transgender people is between the day they disclose their gender and the day they gain access to medical services.

He says the waiting time to be seen at a gender clinic can be up to 18 months. If the applicant is then referred to an endocrinologist, that can take another six months.

His advice is to speak up: “Get on a waiting list early – don’t wait until puberty starts.”

Jake with friends Leo and Ben. He sees his future in music, art, writing, early childhood education and acting. Picture: Tom Huntley

Jake sees his future more clearly now.

“Music, art, writing, early childhood education, acting,” he says.

He’s pursuing the latter through classes and has appeared in the Epic Films series First Day as a young person who first appears as Sarah but finishes series two as Josh.

“Something you learn in acting is that a character is a combination of all sorts of people,” he says.

As he’s “becoming a man” he does things like look at men on television and envy their strong shoulders.

But he says that now when he goes out “I’m a dude, I forget I’m trans”.

“I’m the updated version of me. And all I want is respect, not judgment.”