My Norwegian grandpa,John,was a sailor. He was 19 when he met my maternal grandmother,Ellen,in New Zealand,where he took up work on her father’s Danish ship.
They fell in love,but back then it was deemed unacceptable for a sailor and a captain’s daughter to be dating. So they sailed on to Australia,where they decamped and got married.
Grandpa had a stroke when he was 30. The doctor gave him six months to live but he made it to 72. Paralysed down one side,he never let anything stop him. Grandpa refused to accept that he couldn’t walk,but when he tried,he fell. By the time he was in his 60s,he was in a wheelchair. I inherited
his perseverance and determination.
My father,Mark,had a tough upbringing:he didn’t have a father growing up. He was a good footballer and trained with Melbourne Football Club,but he worked full-time to look after his mum,so his career stalled.
Dad worked so hard for my mum,Karin,and my older sister Kara and me. He’s part of the reason I’m so grounded,as he has always been honest with me. When I started making it in netball,he’d say,“It doesn’t matter if you’ve made it or not,because there’s someone better right behind you. Never stop working hard.”
I was much more like a boy than a girl when I was growing up:I have lots of masculine energy. Lots of boys have feminine energy. It’s cool that in this day and age,if little girls want to dress as cowboys,they can. Likewise,little boys can dress as Elsa fromFrozen without fear of being judged.
At age 12,I was 183 centimetres tall with size 11 feet. I was so lanky. I was self-conscious because my friends were the height of my belly button.