To the people who truly matter on my team, the fact I’m trans would never be a big deal (Picture: Emily Oakden) It was one of the worst matches of our season; we were getting thrashed 40-0 and, despite finally making some ground down the pitch, everyone was feeling very discouraged. Then, after one of our players got tackled, I spotted a gap, picked up the ball and dived for the line. As I touched the ball down and rolled over, my teammates rushed towards me and piled on top of me in celebration. Hearing their cheers and feeling a wave of relief wash over all of us, I knew this would be a moment we’d all remember. But for me, it was extra special. That was the moment that I realised that I had an amazing bond with my team and that, to the people like them who truly matter, the fact I’m trans would never be a big deal. My earliest memory of feeling ‘different’ was on my fifth birthday. While I don’t explicitly remember feeling like I was a boy, I do remember deciding that I only wanted boys’ clothes and a skateboard (which, to me, was a very masculine thing). At the age of seven, I began playing rugby – when teams were mixed – and found I enjoyed being with the boys. Unfortunately, they rarely passed the ball to me, which left me feeling discouraged. I felt like I was one of them. Yet, even if we were on the same team, they clearly didn’t see me this way. I grappled with this feeling, that sense of having nowhere to truly belong, for the next four years. In that time I often embraced a highly masculine style of dress and even went through phases of asking friends and family to call me by different male names. I felt no fear in informing my team as I had built such incredible bonds with them that I knew they’d support me no matter who I was (Picture: Amelie Collyer) No one really questioned me about this and it made me feel better, even if only briefly. At the same time, I continued playing rugby but eventually chose to take a season off. I just wasn’t getting what I needed out of it. When I started high school I tried to be a bit more feminine all in an attempt to fit in with what I thought people wanted from me. I wore the girls’ uniform jumper and blouse at school. None of it really felt like me though. One day, someone from the club suggested I give rugby another go. By that point, my only choice was to start playing with the girls team in the under-12s league and I felt OK with that. That’s when I truly fell in love with rugby. There were only five of us on the team – which meant we often had to merge with other clubs just to be able to get a match in – but it made us all incredibly close. My coaches and teammates began calling me Milo during training, making the transition feel completely natural (Picture: Emily Oakden) The summer after my 12th birthday, I came out to my mum. She was not at all surprised and was just incredibly supportive. Together, she helped me tell my dad and gradually we began informing the extended family. I remember feeling quite anxious about that, even going so far as to ask my mum to message the family group chat before a big family gathering. She shared that I was trans and that my new name was Milo, but luckily the response was nothing but positive. I can still remember my dad’s cousin simply responding with ‘Hi Milo!’ and that was it. No one ever looked back. Before the start of the next school year, when I reached year eight, I decided to socially transition and that meant informing my rugby team. I felt no fear in informing my team as I had built such incredible bonds with them that I knew they’d support me no matter who I was. So before the season began, my parents and I spoke with the coach and team manager to explain everything and, thankfully, they embraced the change wholeheartedly. Trans is Human Milo was part of Hannah and Jake Graf’s ‘Trans is Human’ campaign, which launched around Trans Day of Visibility (March 31) this year. For more information, visit their Instagram page here. The campaign is supported by Pride Wide, a charity featuring exclusive, investigative, fact-checked LGBTQ+ storytelling. My coaches and teammates began calling me Milo during training, making the transition feel completely natural, and they treated me with only love and acceptance. Finally, I felt like I could be myself both on and off the pitch without feeling any judgment whatsoever. Last season though, was the highlight of my rugby journey. I made an amazing group of life-long friends who showed me care and love I’d never been shown from friends before. They accepted me in such ways that I didn’t even have to explain to them why I was playing on the girls team as a boy, they just assumed that I was trans and didn’t ask anymore questions. They defended and protected me when I felt nervous in certain settings and stood with me no matter how it made them look. Playing this sport gave me relationships that helped me understand that I am not a burden (Picture: Emily Oakden) I also met my now-girlfriend. I’d long thought that I’d never find love as a trans person. But every day she continues to show me more love than I could ever ask for, as well as wholeheartedly supporting and encouraging me through my transition. I will always be grateful for how much she has changed my life for the better. All of this is only possible because of rugby – it’s been my lifeline. Playing this sport gave me relationships that helped me understand that I am not a burden. That being trans is not something that defines me – it’s only a very small part of a much bigger picture of my life and who I am. It has fundamentally changed my views on my gender identity and helped me to embrace my true self. Of course, I still encounter daily challenges but I deal with them one step at a time with my friends and family beside me. And besides, knowing that I will spend time with my friends on the rugby pitch twice a week gives me the strength to keep going. Pride and Joy Pride and Joy is a series spotlighting the first-person positive, affirming and joyful stories of transgender, non-binary, gender fluid and gender non-conforming people. Do you have a story you'd like to share? Get in touch by emailing James.Besanvalle@metro.co.uk