Verity ‘Vez’ Smith

Frontrower Vez has been targeted, victimised and bullied. He’s had blood spat in his mouth after a tackle; and had rugby ‘fans’ shout everything from, ‘get the fat bastard man off the pitch’ to ‘put her face in mud, let her drown’. And that’s before the endless stream of social media abuse. Vez has considered, ‘not being here’ many times. This is what can happen when you’re a transgender rugby player. And, he says, it needs to change.

Everything came to a head in one game. Verity ‘Vez’ Smith had played rugby his whole life, both league and union, for club, county, regional and even a dalliance with international representation with trials for England Students. Yet, when Vez decided to begin the transition to become a man 18 months ago, his life took a nasty turn, with the ugly side of sport rearing its head. “I played a game of league and I was pinned down and was spat in the mouth,” explains Vez, as we sit in the function room of his current union club, Rotherham Phoenix, together with his captain and close friend Jo Clark. “I was heckled and one shouted, ‘get the fat bastard man off the pitch, what idiot lets a man play against girls?’.

“I’d handed her off and they pinned me down in a tackle, she kept hold of the ball and I’d let go, and as I shouted, ‘not releasing’, you heard the noise of them getting spit in their mouth and as I turned around, she leant forward and spat bloodied saliva into my mouth. 

“The referee said he didn’t see anything, nothing had happened, and had no issue whatsoever, and took all the players off the pitch – and left me standing there getting shouted at by all the spectators asking if I was a man or woman.”

It wasn’t a one-off. A forward in both codes, after turning out for Dewsbury Moor during his first league season as a transgender man, Vez played for Rotherham soon after. While Jo and Rotherham Phoenix welcomed him with open arms, the same couldn’t be said for some opponents. “I’d gone to take the shirts to the changing room, and was asked, ‘what testosterone are Vez and Cole on?,” says Jo, taking up the story. Uniquely, Rotherham Phoenix have three transgender players, with Cole and Jack (who wasn’t at this particular game), following Vez’s example to the home of the Titans. Calls were made to the local community officer who confirmed Vez was fine to play, but the opponent insisted neither he nor Cole could play. “It was only an hour before the game and there was nothing I could do, I said they were anatomically female, she didn’t want them to play, so I had to tell them,” continues Jo. “I remember having tears streaming down my face because I was so angry. I was devastated, I was so upset for Vez and Cole.”

“She wouldn’t accept the letter I had with me from the RFL either, which stated I could play,” says Vez. “I was escorted off the pitch and made to stand on the sidelines and watch my team play – still dressed in full kit.

“It was degrading,” continues Vez. “Why shouldn’t I be allowed to be on that pitch the same as anyone else?  If the girls all grew a beard and wanted to play, then what’s the difference? It’s been a hard year.”

Not one to shy away from anything, Vez’s decision to transition last year was the result of almost 24 years of agonising.

“I was 13 when I came out as gay,” says Vez. “I was petrified when I told my mum and dad but they went and researched for somewhere I could meet other children, where I could be safe, and they managed to find a gay youth club in Hull. That was back in 1994, which was unheard of, but they took me there to play pool, chat to people, just to be a normal kid, but in a safe environment.”

Even before then, Vez had been clear of his own identity. “I’ve never changed,” he admits. “I still remember my school diary and a teacher wrote in it, ‘can we see Verity in a school dress?’ and Mum had just written, ‘I try’. I had that for my first five years at school and, in the end, they gave up. I had some overalls and a motorbike jacket from my dad aged five, I played football when I was nine, then ice hockey, Thai boxing – I just guess ballet class was full when I was picking sports.”

The sport that would matter most to Vez, rugby, came into his life, aged 11, when his grandparents took him to Hull Vixens. “I was straight into the forwards at prop,” he recalls. “I just wanted to take the ball, all I’ve ever wanted to do is get that ball and hit people, to tackle. 

“I started playing for the under-16s at 11, I got in two games for them and teams didn’t want to play against me. Somebody rang my dad to get permission for me to have a go in the seniors team – health and safety wasn’t like it is now and I think I played under somebody else’s name for them. It meant I was playing in what was the old women’s Premiership (league) from the age of 11 until I was 16 or 17. Then, I had a go at union and never looked back. I played for Hull Ladies, had a good stint of eight years there and got picked for North East of England and started getting attention from other [representative] sides.”

A very physical approach to the game, both in attack and defence, meant Vez soon attracted the attention of a top-flight club. “I was away on holiday, my phone had died, but when I got home I had loads of missed calls,” says Vez. “They were setting up a women’s team to go into the Premiership (union) as Thirsk Sharks, I’d already had the trials, and they were phoning to tell me I was in.”

Away from rugby, life had been getting more complicated, starting off with family tragedy. “I lost my dad when I was 17, he died quite suddenly,” says Vez. “My mum died when I was in my 20s, she had been ill most of my life with diabetes and lupus. She’d lost her legs, her hand and was blind, so it meant I never really had a parent figure as such, my two grandmas brought me up really – and the rugby club. 

“Everyone says rugby is family, and when Dad died they all rallied around me,” he recalls. “I threw myself into rugby. I’d be at the club day and night, training with whoever I could, playing for everyone. I’d even lend myself out to other teams to get more games because I didn’t want to be at home, because there was nothing left really. Add to that, coming out as gay, and it was a hard time being a teenager, but rugby has been my one stability.”

Even back then, Vez was something of a beacon, attracting other gay teenagers who would seek his counsel. “I was lucky because I had brilliant grandparents who helped a lot , and the rugby club,” he admits, “but a lot of other people faced stigma at home, who couldn’t even tell their parents. I had one friend who couldn’t tell his parents so he used to come and stay at my house , just so he could chat and be normal.”

To add another layer to Vez’s story, there was also polycystic ovary syndrome, a condition that causes an imbalance in hormones with some serious side effects. “It affects your ovaries,” explains Vez. “It can affect having  children, you can gain weight, develop diabetes, your body and face changes, you grow hair on your face. I used to hate having it because of the way people looked at me, that’s why I shaved. Internally I did like it, because it felt normal, but outside I didn’t like it because it created questions, so I always shaved no matter what. 

“It also made me go through the menopause at 19. Then I had to have injections into my stomach to mimic a hysterectomy which were very painful, before having a hysterectomy at 22, which stopped me playing Premiership rugby. I took a lot of time out, had a lot of problems and complications for a few years so I was just playing club rugby when I could, but the scar never knitted together so it would often split.”

In the earlier years, there were individuals who made a big difference. “Growing up as a teenager with no parents is scary because you’ve got nobody to talk to, nobody to turn to. It was a lady, Jackie Edhouse, who supported me and took me to my games, if it hadn’t been for her back then, I wouldn’t be here now. It’s awful to say but I thought a few times about not being here, because it was easier not to be here, than to try and fight.”

Those feelings remained from Vez’s teenage years, into his 20s, and well into his 30s. “Just watching my friends getting changed and going out with their mates on to the pitch, everyone was so happy, I wanted to be like that, but I didn’t want to look like that this anymore. I wanted to look how I felt.

“I’d look at the men’s team and think, ‘well I’m never going to be able to do that’, so I’d sit and cry at home because I thought if I came out then I’m going to lose everything that I knew: my family and my friends. When I say family, I mean my rugby club, I’ve had numerous nights when I’ve just sat and cried and thought, ‘I can’t do this anymore’.

“I was never girlie, I never did fit in. I was also trying fit in as the ‘butch lesbian’ playing rugby and try to be what was classed as the norm back then, but there was always something in the back of my head suggesting that I was different that I couldn’t put my finger on. I was so scared of telling anybody because I was so scared of losing the one thing that I’ve always had and that was rugby.”

At 19, Vez made the first tentative enquiries into transitioning. Exploring the idea of having a chest reduction, without having to acknowledge the real reason why. “I’d never liked having my chest,” he admits. “I never liked being put in female kit, I’d struggle all the time and I’d have arguments about it and I didn’t want to wear dresses at presentations. I started to drop hints that maybe I didn’t want to have my chest any more, how would it be if I looked into some different way of how I dressed or how I acted or my name.

“I did think I might be able to say I wanted it done because one was bigger than the other or something,” he admits, “but I was too scared about having to answer too many questions. So I just kept quiet my whole life really.”

Last year, with it being rumoured that rugby union was looking to follow the IOC (International Olympic Committee) policy on transgender players, aged 36, Vez finally made the decision to begin transitioning. “It was just the biggest thing ever,” he says, “and everyone has supported me for coming out – it’s other teams that I seem to have the problem with, not the teams that I play for.

“I stopped shaving because I had the hormone condition anyway, and I met someone who was also transgender and we started dating and I found it so much easier. Everybody started opening up and  talking about transgender laws and how rugby would change to go by the same laws as the IOC. 

“Under the current laws, up until September, you had to apply to get your case in front of a medical board – they would get your medical files to see whether they would legally let you play male or female. Now, under the IOC, they’re going by what gender you want to play and putting a safeguarding aspect around that.

“When I heard that it was like a lightbulb in my head and I knew I had to do this, otherwise I’m just not going to carry on. One of my friends took me to the doctor and refused to let me out of the room until I told them everything.”

One of the first people Vez told was his grandmother. “I actually rang Grandma and said, ‘what would you do if I said I didn’t want my chest anymore?’. Grandma just turned around and said, ‘do
I call you Fred now then or what?’ And that was it, that was the first comment and it was just fine, and from that moment I knew everything was going to be okay.”

Always a very physical player – Vez’s dad, a paramedic, had plenty of experience of dealing with opponents on the opposite end of a crunching tackle from his daughter – the style of play never changed and, even with the changing balance of hormones, team-mate Jo admits she’s seen her barnstorming prop ‘much bigger than this’. But the appearance of facial hair changed everything, for some. “It’s not just the violence,” says Vez, referring to some on-field incidents, “it’s more with social media and what they could do next. They’ll put a picture up of me and the comments will be things like, ‘not only do the refs check for nails and studs nowadays, we also have to check for cocks!’. 

“Someone also decided to take it upon themselves to tag teams and message sides on Facebook to tell them they’d been playing against transgender players. 

“I got back to work on a Monday, somebody had already seen it on the internet and I had to fully come out at work as well, so it affects your home life as well. What right does anyone else have to do that? Yes,
I might look this way, but there’s a danger aspect to out someone without them knowing – it could be their family doesn’t know or a religious reason. Luckily for me, everyone knew, but it’s not that way for everybody.”

Vez has started a big conversation, with it estimated that one per cent of the UK population is transgender, that’s 600,000 potential recruits. And while he’s taking the hits, both literally, and digitally, he knows he’s doing some good. “I’ve started to get to know other transgender people and tried to get them into the sport,” he says. “And people are approaching me asking how they go about it. Now they’ve seen it can be done, they want to know and be able to play as well.”

It’s why Cole and Jack joined up. “We were friends anyway,” he says. “Cole has played university rugby and he didn’t feel safe when he came up here and couldn’t find a team to play for, so I asked Jo and she was more than happy to have him and Jack here. 

“I also get messages from people asking about joining clubs or staying at clubs if they come out, so it’s getting bigger. I’ve put up an inclusive rugby page on Facebook so people can message there and we can try and find them inclusive teams. It shouldn’t be like that, there shouldn’t need to be inclusive teams, just teams. I’ve loved this sport for so long, I just want everyone to play it, whether you’re straight, gay, bi, vegetable, animal or mineral.”

While still playing ladies rugby at Rotherham, Vez continues to update the RFU with the testosterone he’s on, when there are changes, any medical appointments he has, so they can monitor the safety aspects. With the RFU and Stonewall working together to make the sport inclusive, Vez – who also coaches kids – sees change on the horizon and wants to be part of it, especially as he understands the shades of grey involved. “It is scary, because you wonder what’s going to happen at this point or that point,” he says of his own future in ladies’ rugby. “You do wonder when the day is going to come when you can’t play anymore, the whole process is scary for a lot of people. People are ringing me up to ask what emails and letters from the RFU mean, because it’s never black and white. The same thing doesn’t apply to every person. 

“It’s not just you’re transgender, so you’re either male or female, you’re this or you’re that,” continues Vez, “You’ve also got non-binary; people that might not want to take hormones but will have chest surgery; people who will have chest surgery but won’t have lower surgery – there’s no strict guidelines to transgender. So, it can only be how you manage each case, and it has to be flexible, but managed safely for the person involved.”

With the intention to transition including lower surgery, Vez admits he won’t be playing ladies rugby forever. “Eventually I will go to a men’s team – if I don’t have to retire through injuries before then,” he adds, as he currently has a back injury that makes it 50/50 if playing again is even possible. “I have trained with men, on days when we’ve had mix-up matches and I’ve upset men, I’ve tackled men and made a couple of them cry. I’m not going to go and play a women’s sport if I know I’m a danger. If I was dangerous to other players I would never put anyone in that situation. I’m old enough to know who I am and where I should be. 

“It will be a sad day when I go to the men’s team,” he admits. “Not because I’m joining a men’s side, that’ll be great, but the sadness that I won’t be able to be on the pitch again with my friends, this bunch of girls.”

As we wrap up the interview, Vez rolls off a list of people he wants to thank, from Jo, still sat by his side, to coaches (Jo Phillips and Steve Watson) to physios (David Watts), to his Rugby Development Officer (Hamish Pratt) before realising the list is getting too long and stating, ‘everyone who has stood by me’. The thank yous are undoubtedly two-way though, as his captain points out.

“If my daughter is half as strong as Vez,” says Jo, “I’d be very proud. He doesn’t deserve what he’s been through, because he’s one of the nicest people you’ll meet. You can talk to clubs all over Yorkshire, from north to south, and they’ll have heard of Verity Smith, one way or another. He likes to think that’s because he’s a bad
boy, but it’s not at all, it’s because he’s a genuinely nice, lovely individual, that just wants to be happy.”

Words by: Alex Mead

Pictures by: Tony Chau

This extract was taken from issue 3 of Rugby.
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