(Transcript from SBS World News Radio)
More and more Indigenous transgender men, known as "Brotherboys," are coming forward and connecting online.
However, with virtually no programs or studies targeted at Brotherboys, transgender advocates fear that, without support, many are struggling.
Laura Murphy-Oates reports.
(Click on the audio tab above to hear the full report)
Kai Clancy is a 19-year-old transgender man, or "Brotherboy."
Born in Townsville to a large Wulli Wulli and Wakka Wakka family, he was known as Kaitlyn for the first 18 years of his life.
But he was increasingly unhappy with his body and his gender identity.
He was experiencing what is known as gender dysphoria.
"Some people describe it as irritating. For me, it can be pretty extreme. I want to, quite literally, rip myself to shreds. Not like self-harm, but I feel like, you know, ripping myself to shreds. Like, where you're trapped inside of something that you shouldn't be. You know, if you had a cast on your arm, it's annoying. But if it's really annoying, you want to rip it off. Your body, your whole body, is that shell that you want to rip off. It doesn't represent you, and it makes you feel so uncomfortable, so deeply uncomfortable, you just hate your own ... your own skin."
Kai Clancy began to physically transition to a male body, undergoing hormone-replacement therapy, or "T."
It was a process he broadcast to the public via Youtube, his voice growing steadily deeper.
"Hey, everybody, I'm back. It's Kai, and I'm going to be talking to you today about my one month on T ... my three months on T ... four months on T ... Ah, yeah, it's been a fricking (very) wicked ride. Tomorrow, I'm six months on hormones ... I've been on testosterone now for seven, eight, going on nine months."
For Kai Clancy, it was important to document his transition online and create an online profile for Brotherboys.
Growing up, he had only ever encountered transgender Indigenous women, known as Sistergirls.
"I've always grown up around, you know, trans women -- seeing trans-women in the media, seeing trans-women in the street. You know, that male to female trans identity. When I was looking up Sistergirls, I saw all these wonderful resources on Sistergirls, but I tried to find something on Brotherboys, (and) there was none, not even one. I went into the deep end* just knowing no other Brotherboys."
Transgender advocates are concerned about the lack of support for Indigenous trans youth.
Starlady, a transgender woman, has been a youth worker in remote Indigenous communities for over 15 years.
"I think one of the major issues in remote communities -- and, I mean, throughout Australia -- would be the lack of services for Indigenous LGBTI Brotherboy or Sistergirl youth."
There has been little to no specific research into the suicide rate of transgender Aboriginal people, but what is known is staggering.
The latest national survey showed nearly half of all transgender youth have harmed themselves, with more than a quarter of those attempting suicide.
That, combined with the highest Aboriginal youth suicide rate in the world outside of Greenland, paints a grim picture.
Starlady has seen firsthand the toll that "coming out," or revealing their gender identities, without support is having on transgender Indigenous people.
"Every community is different. In some places, young people are being supported. In other places, young people are having an incredibly hard time. And in those places where transgender identity is not accepted, or perhaps it's just not accepted within their family, there have been young people recently who've committed suicide."
For Kai Clancy, connecting with other Brotherboys online was essential.
He started talking with other Brotherboys on a Facebook group called Sistergirls and Brotherboys, where he met a 52-year-old Wiradjuri man named Dean.
"We just connected. You know, he's a young fella coming through, and, with all the experiences I've had, we just connected more like brothers, like father-son. It's just that wonderful, beautiful relationship. And then we decided to, on the spot, make a little DVD called Brotherboys Yarning Up."
The pair's video was the first educational video for Brotherboys.
Dean is used to paving the way for trans men and Brotherboys alike.
He was one of the first so-called loud and proud Brotherboys and the first Indigenous transgender man to get married in Australia.
He has also been accepted culturally as a Wiradjuri man by his elders, a process that had rarely been undertaken before.
"I went through the smoking ceremony with the women, and that was the burning of the gum leaves, the cleansing. It was to celebrate the woman that I had become, but, also, it was to pass on the finish -- that was the end of that woman. And then, I think it was about five or six weeks later, we went out bush. There were three men. We sat and talked. We did another smoking ceremony, and that was the welcoming over into the men's side."
Dean says his community is providing a model of cultural acceptance of transgender people.
And he hopes his path can be adopted in other Indigenous communities, making things much easier for the next generation of Brotherboys.
"All the fears that I had, my elders have proven me wrong. They were there for me. My siblings, the people I loved and grew up with, they were there for me. It wasn't as fearful as I thought it was in my head. And I think, uh ... I honestly do believe in my heart other elders are going to come on board. They're going to be leading the way for our young men and women out there who are struggling."
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