Reggie Mcgoon is known as a “Queen Mother” of the transgender community of Fiji.
Mcgoon, who lives in Savusavu – a town on the north island of Vanua Levu – and who often goes by Nana Reggie, runs a hair salon and remembers when she first started expressing her identity freely.
“I was one of the first trans people to walk around Suva city in high heels in the daytime. Everyone would look at me and say, ‘Oh my God, what are you doing?’ And I would say, ‘This is my life.’ We actually opened the doors for lots of people, and they still remember that. Ah, we had so much fun!
“When I went to New Zealand, it sort of broadened my mind – I saw all these trans people walking around in high heels and makeup. When I came back to Fiji, everything was still taboo. So I said, ‘It’s no use getting dressed up in makeup only at night, I’m sure we can do this in the day too.’”
Felicia Biudai, who works with Mcgoon at the salon and also identifies as trans, says: “Regina and them, they were the first queens that broke the ground.”
Mcgoon has taken courage and inspiration from the celebration of a third gender – “vakasalewalewa” in traditional Fijian culture. The iTaukei term refers to people assigned male at birth who identify as women and whose identities are both recognised and valued.
This changed after Fiji was colonised by the British in 1874. These cultures were condemned and mostly erased by the church and colonial law.
“If it was accepted then, I don’t know why it can’t be accepted now,” says Mcgoon.
But Mcgoon remembers at school she was reprimanded by teachers for always playing with the girls and there was no room for discussion of alternate gender identities.
“People wouldn’t talk about it because it was a big taboo, because it’s instilled into young people’s minds because this is a Christian country, and we shouldn’t talk about these things.”
Monica, who gave herself that name in honour of Monica Lewinsky, remembers hearing about the traditional vakasalewalewa around the kava circle – people gathering to chat as they shared the ceremonial drink.
“When [my grandparents] sat together in the grog [kava] session, I always opened my ear to catch the stories … I heard transgender exist in those days.”
Monica thinks the influence of these old stories – of chiefs who had trans women around them serving them – might be why her grandparents were more accepting of her. It was only at the age of 25, however, when she met a European visitor, that Monica found out about transgender women today.
“This European guy saw me, I was wearing wigs and stuff like that, a micro minidress, pencil heels. He thought that I was a woman. And I say ‘Yes, I can be a woman.’ He said, ‘Do you know, people like you … exist back in my country? We respect them, we don’t hurt their feelings, it’s not like what you’re facing here in this country.’
“It was new information. I was shocked. I never knew transgender people existed, apart from the old stories.”
Activists in Fiji’s capital of Suva have been fighting for the re-acceptance of vakasalewalewa.
“Vakasalewalewa is a term that we are continuously reclaiming unapologetically in recognition of our rich history, traditions and our right to exist,” says Sulique Waqa, founder of Haus of Khameleon, a Fiji-based movement advocating for transgender equality in the Pacific.
Research by Haus of Khameleon, in partnership with the Asia Pacific Transgender Network, found that Fiji’s trans population faces huge obstacles to social acceptance, high levels of violence, as well as limited access to healthcare services specific to their needs.
In a 2011 community-based study, 40% of trans women said they had been forced to have sex against their will.
Biudai, who also lives in Savusavu, says trans people in Fiji have to work harder than most to prove their value and to have a safety net. She trained to be a beauty therapist in London and has since worked on cruise ships.
“I didn’t want to be one of those teenagers hanging around; I wanted to be something. Especially in this gender, you have to have something, you cannot be roaming the streets, you have to have a job, you have to have a backup.”
There is a small transgender community in Savusavu – Monica and Biudai are both part of an LGBTQ+ netball team and the women have a rich social life – but Mcgoon says it’s much harder for those who live in the villages, which are more conservative.
“In the villages, the stigma is still there. They would dress up like this, but in a hiding manner. They go to the nightclub, but then they would run into the toilet [and] take off their makeup,” she says.
However, Mcgoon feels that by being herself in public, she might help others to do the same.
“If you meet the young generation now, here in Savusavu, they say ‘Ah, we’ve never seen Reggie any other way, because when we were in primary school, she was always like that, and now we have our own children, and she’s still like that.’ We just accept it.’”