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First Stories, Solid Connections

Tyler Deakin-Thomas

Tyler Deakin-Thomas is a proud Ballardong Noongar and English man. His story reflects on his journey of self-discovery, and navigating life as a queer trans-masculine person in our society.

First Stories is a Centre for Stories project amplifying First Nations truth and voices across Western Australia, while creating spaces for truth-telling and truth-listening within and between First Nations and Culturally and Linguistically Diverse communities. Made possible with funding from Lotterywest. 

Courtyard Yarning is an intimate community gathering that brings people together through live storytelling, poetry, and music, creating space for deep listening and shared cultural experiences. This year’s Courtyard Yarning event celebrated the Launch of Portside Review: Listening Edition as well as the First year of First Stories. 

For more information on First Stories and Solid Connections, head to the First Stories webpage here. Find more stories in our First Stories, Solid connections collection here.

Content Warning: This story may contain references to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cultures, histories and practices and voices of deceased persons. It may also include language that some individuals may find distressing or triggering. We acknowledge the ongoing impact of colonisation and the importance of truth telling and respecting Indigenous perspectives and experiences. We also know that these stories may be most triggering for Aboriginal and Torres strait islander people. So, if you’re struggling while listening to this story, please don’t hesitate to connect with 13 YARN on 13 92 76 and talk with an Aboriginal or Torres Strait Islander crisis supporter. 


Tyler Deakin-Thomas is a proud Ballardong Noongar and English man. His story reflects on his journey of self-discovery, and navigating life as a queer trans-masculine person in our society.

Liked this story? We can’t share them without ongoing support from our community. Please donate to help us support more storytellers like Tyler here.


Copyright © 2026 Tyler Deakin-Thomas

This story and corresponding images are the copyright of and owned by the storyteller and have been licensed to the Centre for Stories. For distribution of this story, please contact the Centre for Stories at info@centreforstories.com. Any unauthorised scraping or ingestion of this Story to train generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies and machine learning systems is expressly prohibited. 

Image credit: Robyn Jean Photography.

Video and editing credit: Edwin Sitt.

Story first published 25 September 2026.

View Story Transcript

INTRO: Hello, my name is Savannah Travia-Dann, and I’m a Nyul Nyul woman from Winawaal Country on the Dampier Peninsular.
We pay our respect to Noongar elders, traditional owners of this place where we are recording today, and all Aboriginal Elders who were involved in these workshops and events.

First Nations people are the knowledge-keepers and custodians of this ancient country – always was, always will be, Aboriginal land.

You’re listening to First Stories: short stories and yarns from First Nations Australians recorded during a two-year project from Centre for Stories, made possible with funding from Lotterywest and our Centre for Stories donors – thank you.

Our team travelled across nations within Western Australia, from Kinjarling/Albany, through to Boorloo/Perth and up to the northern regions of the Kimberley and Pilbara, creating spaces for mob to share their stories.

You will also hear reflections from culturally and linguistically diverse community members as we journey together to better understand First Nations truth-telling, the responsibility of truth-listening, and strengthening intercultural relationships.

This collection was recorded in 2026, only a few years away from the Perth Bicentenary in 2029 – what will be 200 years since Britain colonised Noongar Boodjar.

‘Truth-telling’ has been on everyone’s minds as we reckon with the pain of our colonial past, but we as First Nations peoples have been sharing our truths for a very long time… Have you been listening?

Truth-telling involves looking to our past to better understand our present. It is any process that engages with our colonial history and ongoing colonial harms against First Nations people to empower communities, and provide healing, justice and redress for violence caused against our people.

Truth-telling is happening all around us, all the time – we share it in our movies, books, and songs; in our protests, in the stories of our elders and in the countless reports and commissions produced by the government about our disadvantage. Truth-telling can be joyous and funny, just as it can be sad and painful – we don’t owe anyone our trauma stories and we tell our truths, our way.

But truth-listening… has that really happened?

Truth-listening is a process for non-Indigenous people to witness our stories in a way that disrupts state and settler colonial authority; embraces the discomfort of these hard truths; and places power back in the hands of the First Nations truth-teller.

Truth-listening is political, action-oriented, transformative, and an ongoing process.

So, after you listen to the storyteller today, we ask that you take a moment to reflect on how you might walk forward, living with First Nations people based on their call for justice and self-determination, and how you might join us in disrupting and transforming the settler-colonial status quo.

Please be aware this story may contain references to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander cultures, histories and practices, which belong to the storyteller themselves. It may also include language that some individuals may find distressing or triggering, regarding colonisation and its legacies.

If you’re First Nations, connect with 13 YARN on 13 92 76 for support, and for all listeners who might be struggling, call Beyond Blue on 1300 224 736.

TYLER: I remember being 12 and slipping a note under my door to my dad telling him that I think I am transgender and that I would like, you know, accommodations for that. But, you know, it all started way before that. I remember being a kid and being in primary school and telling my peers, oh, you know, in my head my voice sounds like a boy. And they’re like, I don’t know what you’re talking about, you sound like a girl. You know, there were many things like that growing up that would, you know, were kind of pointers to many things. I was friends with many boys, not that girls can’t be at all, but you know.

And yeah, it all kind of culminated eventually, you know, I started high school and I kind of realised I can’t keep hiding these things. Or at least, you know, being like, oh, okay, you know, I guess I agree with you guys, I’m definitely, definitely just a girl. Yeah, that’s fine. Yeah, it was tough. So, I got into high school and I kind of realised, oh, this is like– I think I’m gonna have to just do this. I think I’m just gonna have to be like, yeah, I am a boy and I wanna be called Tyler and that’s who I am. But yeah, it was not as easy as, you think, you know. I got, I got to a point where I was like, oh I kind of have to say something about this, my body’s changing. I don’t like how it’s changing. And that’s when the note came in. And so I had to tell my dad, hey, I want something to cover up the growth. Yeah.

And so, he kind of was okay with that. I mean, definitely didn’t understand, neither did my mom. You know, when I was 12, that was a big year for me. I changed a lot of things, you know. I told people at school, I’m Tyler, and they would tell me, oh, that’s a bit odd, weird. And I had to fight with my mom to get my hair cut short because she had her wedding to my stepdad coming up. And she was like, no, I want your gorgeous long hair. Look, I’ve got it now, so she can’t be mad. Yeah so, I had to really fight for that. But in the wedding photos I do have, an atrocious pixie cut. But at least it was short how I wanted it. Yeah, it was a lot that year. Like, I remember crying in a changing room because I didn’t like how the jeans that I was trying on fit my body. I didn’t like that they accentuated my hips. I didn’t like any of that.

And so, I was crying and I was like, oh I’ll cover my tears. And I come out and my mom could obviously tell that I had been crying. And she decided, I think maybe the next day she was like, I’m gonna take you to therapy for depression. Which is something she has struggled with a lot, and I have as well, but obviously that wasn’t the main issue at hand. And so, I go to this therapist and this was my first therapist at 12. And you know, I did quite a few sessions there and obviously the transgender thing came up quite quickly, ’cause that was a lot of the issues that I was having at the time. And I remember talking to this therapist and she asked me this question and it really sticks with me. It’s, she asked me, “So who is this Tyler?” And I just remember thinking, “Me?” I was very confused. I was like, it’s just me but I have a different name. Like, I’m not a whole different person. I don’t think I’m a whole different person. I’m the same person. I’m just not a girl, I’m a boy. And yeah, so that kind of was interesting. I mean, at least that therapist did kind of try to get my mom to take me to the Gender Diversity Clinic at Perth Children’s Hospital. But my mom kind of was like a bit iffy about it. She didn’t really know what to do. She didn’t really understand. And so, that just kind of stayed like that for a bit. And I was at school and things were really tough. People would be like, oh, just ’cause you cut your hair short doesn’t make you a boy. And, you know, I’d think to myself, well anybody can have any haircut they want, but whatever.

You know, so that was tough. And I kind of, you know, did fall into a bit of a hole and like, I didn’t feel like I was being seen for who I was, and I just felt– yeah, ’cause I knew that I was who I am, and nobody seemed to really believe me. And so, yeah, it got pretty bad. And I think a lot of the schoolteachers ended up noticing. And so, I eventually got sent to the school nurse and I was like, oh, she’s funny, I like her. She’s nice. And so, she asked me all these questions about how I’m doing. And I think the final one might have been, well, I know it was, “Have you self-harmed?” And I was like, “Oh yeah, you know, I have.” Thinking in confidence that she wouldn’t tell anyone.

The moment I left that office, I reckon she called up my dad and told him all about it. And so instead of going to the gallery after school with my friends, ’cause it was the end of the term, I ended up getting picked up by my dad and having an awkward chat on the couch about, oh, I wish I noticed. Oh, I wish this, that. Why do you, why are you doing this? But I mean, you gotta do uncomfortable things to get good outcomes, ’cause I did go back to therapy after that. And thankfully that therapist told my dad about the gender clinic and like really kind of was adamant that I should probably go to that. And so, I did. And at Perth Children’s Hospital, it is a big crazy hospital, so colorful. Like, you walk in and there’s this crazy light sculpture on the, like, there’s like five floors, it’s on the fifth-floor roof. And you look up and you’re like, “Whoa!” There’s a cafeteria. There’s all these elevators and there’s the pink elevator, the yellow elevator, there was like a red elevator, and they would all take you to different floors. It was very confusing. But I would usually go to the third floor to clinic K, the Gender Diversity Clinic.

And I spent a lot of time in the many different rooms in that place. I had to prove that I was who I said that I was. I had to make my parents, believe me, which they did eventually by that point, I think they kind of were like, oh, this is real. And they had to consent to all of the things. And I had to talk to a therapist many times and, you know, a lot of uncomfortable questions. You know, he even gave me like a texter and was like, if you don’t wanna answer a question, if it’s too uncomfortable you can just put the texter up and we’ll move on. Like, that’s the kind of questions I was getting asked about myself. I would’ve been like 15, and I, yeah, things were tough there and if you missed an appointment, you would get set back so far. I actually missed an appointment once because I was at my mom’s house in Bunbury and my dad hadn’t told me I had an appointment, which I think, you know, might be a bit more important. But I don’t think he also grasped how bad it was either. And so, we go to the next appointment and they’re like, “Oh yeah so, starting hormones, you know, how you kind of wanted to do that when you turned 16? Well, you’ve been set back about eight months.” And I just remember crying. And thankfully they kind of put me on a short list. So, if you ever need something to happen quick, just cry about it. ‘Cause it works. Yeah.

And so, I mean that, thankfully, yeah that did work out and they kind of were like, gotta get this guy onto some hormones. And so thankfully when I had, just after I turned 16, I think May of, I don’t know, 20 something. The May after I turned 16, I started testosterone. And so, I would’ve been in year 10, year 11, 10 11, 10! 11. One of those two. It’s all a bit of a blur to be honest. It probably was year 11. And you know, with hormones it takes quite a while for changes to come. So, I definitely still, didn’t quite look as much like a man as I do now, I guess. And you know, things were slow, but I was, I felt good. Like I knew that this is what I wanted. Like without a doubt, it was always without a doubt. Like when I cut my hair, people would ask me, oh, do you regret it? I’d be like, what are you talking about. Yeah, it was all just, I knew that this is what I wanted and as the changes grew and grew and I grew facial hair and my body, like fat distribution changed – it’s all this crazy stuff that happens when you try decide to take hormones for the other sex. And it’s just, yeah, so much happened. And as the changes happened, I just grew happier with myself. And I think the final thing that really just solidified it all for me was getting top surgery. Get the growths removed, as I said earlier. Odd phrasing. And that really just opened up a lot for me because I didn’t have to wear this constricting garment anymore. You know, I actually have like, my ribs are misshapen because I was wearing that while growing. Because of yeah, body issues, you know, that I just couldn’t, yeah, it wasn’t what I wanted.

But I got that surgery when I was 19, so two, three years ago now. And yeah, it changed a lot for me. I could just chuck on a shirt and go out on my day. It was, it was brilliant. And I like to, I really enjoy being able to just go to the beach and, you know, swim in the water and just feel the water all around me. It’s great. Every part of my journey really changed me, obviously. But it’s all worth it, you know, I persevered through that. And I stayed strong to myself when it was quite hard to, because you know, you doubt yourself all the time. Everybody’s always doubting themselves. But I stayed true to me, and I made it through. So yeah, now I’m here telling that. Yeah.

OUTRO: This podcast was produced by Luisa Mitchell and Savannah-Travia Dann, and sound engineering and original music by Mason Vellios. Thank you for supporting our storytellers.
This story remains the intellectual copyright of the storyteller. Please reach out to Centre for Stories or the storyteller themselves if you wish to use this story in another capacity.
The First Stories collection was made possible through funding from Lotterywest and Centre for Stories donors, and produced by the Centre for Stories.
Thank you for your support. To learn more about the First Stories project, visit centreforstories.com.
Centre for Stories is a registered not-for-profit organization fueled by a small but dedicated team. If you’d like to support our mission to uplift diverse voices and champion inclusion, consider making a donation, whatever you can afford, at centreforstories.com.

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