Itwasn’t safe at school or at home
A South Auckland transgender woman became a social worker in the hopes that youth would not have to endure what she did as a child. Torranice Campel shares her story for Stuff’s special project Aotearoa In 20.
WARNING: This story addresses grave sexual abuse and suicide.
Inever wanted to be a social worker when I was younger. I thought social workers were those people who took babies from their mothers.
All I wanted to do was make it through the school day without being sexually abused. The first time they did it, they forced me to give them oral sex, and then they peed on me and laughed.
I feel like Iwas deprived of my education because from there on my focus went out the door. I did not really care about education – I cared about survival.
Sometimes I would dream about jobs I could do. I thought maybe I could be a checkout operator at Woolworths in Ma¯ngere. The supermarket workers always smiled, they chatted to the customers, and they were always nice to me.
They were the only ones who were nice when I was younger.
There was not much time to concentrate on work when I was in school, so my reading and writing skills were not very good. I avoided sports and physical education, too.
Teachers did not like me much because of that. One time, a teacher beat me up and I did not say anything because I felt like I deserved it because of who I am.
I tried to avoid the boys’ toilets because that was where my abusers would wait.
But every time I went into the girls’ toilet block, I would get in trouble.
I knew from a very young age that I was not like the other boys I knew. I tried to be. Iwould model behaviour from other males I considered to be a typical heterosexual and Iwould walk like them, and try to make my voice not as high. It did not work, though. Kids would tease me, strangers would point at me and say mean names.
I did not know Iwas transgender until I was in my teens. I can’t remember what age Iwas, maybe 17? I heard the word ‘‘transgender’’ and someone explained what it meant and for the first time, I thought, wow, that is me – I am transgender.
As a child I felt lonely, I felt isolated, I felt there was no-one I could relate to. Being Pasifika, and being brought up religious, it was not safe to be transgender and it was not tolerated. It was not safe to be me.
My home environment was not safe either – itwas kind of like Once Were Warriors.
Being visible outside the normality of heterosexuality was seen as a bad thing. I remember feeling angry a lot and angry at God for making me like this.
When I was a teenager, I became a street worker.
Working the streets gave me the acceptance I was after that I was not able to get elsewhere. But it did not last long before I spiralled down. Iwould think about dying and what dying looked like. I did not want to be a burden or upset people because that was all Iwould experience: people’s anger because of how I presented. I ended up in amental health facility after trying to take my own life. That was around the time things started to change for me.
I remember waking up and seeing this lady at the end of my bed. She was very abrupt and told me she was there to help. And I remember trying to make sense of what was happening but also thinking: OK lady, I amnot in the mood to talk to you. I was also scared because I thought being under mental health care meant they were going to put me in an asylum in a padded room or something.
After Iwas discharged, I started thinking about what I wanted to do with my life. I knew Iwanted to help people and I wanted to be a positive support in a person’s life. So I flipped through a university prospectus and I read about being a social worker. It said that you can choose what your role in a person’s life is. I thought about how this career could provide positivity in the rainbow community and how it could provide support to people of diversity. I have always had the tendency to give. I did not have that support when Iwas younger, so I thought if I pursued this, I could help others out there like me.
When I was 19, I gained a sixmonth social work certificate and I went to work for a local organisation, which then went on to support me through a social work degree. I have just turned 30, so that was a few years ago now.
When I first started in the profession, one of my abusers came into my work.
He came in under a probation order to start anger management and I opened that door for him.
When I saw him, I knew it was him straight away but I pretended I did not know him. I buried a lot of that stuff.
I blamed myself and thought I was the reason these things happened to me. I thought I should have just been a boy but as much as I would try to force myself to bemy assigned gender at birth, I just couldn’t.
I have come across a few of my abusers in my profession. They don’t remember who I am but I remember them. I blocked out a lot of the abuse from when I was in school but it is also a reminder of why I dowhat I do.
I have had a great career. I have worked for Oranga Tamariki; I have been a foster carer; and before Covid, I was working in a child protection role in Melbourne, Australia.
People from the LGBTQI community are always being left out. We face stigma and discrimination when applying for housing and jobs, and many struggle with being accepted by their families.
We have a lot to offer. All we want is to feel safe, to feel comfortable, to feel included.
We want to go to school knowing we are going to get an education and not be deprived of it because of bullies or abusers.
We want to go into public spaces without being attacked.
People from the LGBTQI community just want to be happy. I remember wanting to feel like that, as a child, as a teenager. And today, I can say that I am, I amhappy.