Ruby Tui - Straight Up (Rugby)

The hugeness of my Samoan familys journey to New Zealand really came home to me when, in 2018, I visited Samoa for a family reunion. Dad couldnt come for paperwork reasons, but a whole group of us went, and Aunty Tala took us to the house she and my dad were born in, in our village in the Palauli region on the island of Savaii.

It was so different to the world I grew up in. Theres lots of beauty there of course, in the people, in the land, but the fale where they lived freaked me out, to be honest old and so gloomy, very run-down now. My cousin Hemi James and I were chuckling because we couldnt believe it. This was where Dad lived for almost the first decade of his life.

It was January when we were there, the middle of sevens season, so I had to keep training. I told my family there that I was going for a run and they looked me up and down and asked if I was going to wear shorts. It was over 30 degrees, and very humid. Of course I was going to wear shorts!

But in that very traditional place, it wasnt that simple. If a female from the family was seen in shorts, the family could be fined, so my grandads wife instructed me to wear an ie or lavalava, the traditional sarong-like formal wear. It sits from your belly button all the way down to your ankles. I thought she was joking. She was not.

My older cousin Teri, who plays womens rugby in Australia, joined me and we both put on our lavalavas, and off we ran into the sweltering heat. With every step, the lavalava pulled and dragged at my legs. As we ran through the countryside, over bridges with missing pieces and jagged metal sticking out of crumbling concrete, villagers staring at us as we appeared to be running for no particular reason, the chaffing between my legs from the sweat under the lavalava reached its peak. I began to understand why Grandad moved to New Zealand. He came in the pursuit of opportunity not for himself, but for us who came after.

There was no way I would be pulling on a national rugby jersey with the name Tui on the back, and going to the Olympics, if Grandad had not brought us all to New Zealand. I am so grateful to Grandad every day, for the vision that meant his grandkids could grow up with all these opportunities.

Everything I do shows my appreciation, my greatitude, for what he made possible.

I wear this Tui name on my back with so much pride. Im part of the first generation of my New Zealand Samoan family to not have the traumatic shock of moving countries, moving cultures. How dare I not strive for greatness, how dare I not make the most of my life, when my grandparents, my aunties and uncles, my dad, went through so much to get here to this land of opportunity?

Just as I look back on how Grandads decisions have shaped my life, I also see how Ive been shaped by the things that happened to me. As a woman now, I honour the little girl who got through so much.

Ive been back to Canvastown a couple of times, to that lonely house beside the ever-flowing river. Where I saw my mum struggle, and where I was at the lowest point in my life.

The first time was hard. I was in my early twenties and alone that day, and the place seemed dark and miserable. It reminded me too much of how alone Id felt there as a kid. But I was on a bit of a mission and it felt important to revisit the location of the hardest times of my childhood memories. I drove the winding, skinny country road with its blind corners. It wasnt as scary as it had seemed when I was a kid, but I still felt a bit bitter about how Mum made me walk to school that day.

Visiting the place where I vividly remembered wanting to commit suicide was difficult. This was a place of suffering, but there was a healing power in going there. It was like swallowing a big vitamin pill uncomfortable, but once its down you end up healthier. I realised I no longer had anything to fear.

The second time I went back it was much easier. I took my partner, Dani, who was really patient and understanding. She waited in the car while I looked in again at the property. It was overgrown and still sad, but I felt different. Bigger. I stood taller. My growth compared with the sameness of the house was undeniable. Revisiting places can show you your growth, like looking at an old photo. Thank you, I said out loud. This place had taught me so much. I understood that a strong, determined little girl made it out of this house, and that strong little girl helped me achieve such tremendous goals. She got me through some big moments in my adulthood.

Thank you, Ruby. I love you, Ruby.

That little girl, she had no choice. I was trapped, getting told bad things, getting yelled at, watching my mum get abused; but there was just something in me that went, I dont want to be that person. I dont want that life. I want to be a good person and I want to do the right thing.

There had to be an alternative. Because I grew up with my feet in two worlds, I knew it. I knew there was another way to love. Theres another way to do this. Im grateful that the little sis my younger self got through all that and understood the possibility of something different. I went out and I found my other way I found a life that I loved and I felt safe and celebrated in, and I chose that.

Im still choosing that. Im on my journey. Its a lifelong pursuit of being the person I want to be, of staying true to my values, of all my opportunities, of my brand, my family, my still-unfolding rugby career where I get to play fifteens again. Of having a family with Dani. Im here on the journey right now, and I always will be.

I hold no hate or resentment towards anyone even my dads choice of alcohol above anything else in his life, including me; Mum and her depression, when she was unable to stick up for me; my brothers dad and his atrocious behaviour. Those things were all horrible, but I have the choice to do better. I feel like its really cool that I can say: That all sucks, but Im not carrying any of it. Its not my burden. I choose to do life differently.

There was a time when I did carry it. I remember in my first years of high school, I used that word hate quite a bit. Id say I hate him, talking about Danes dad, or even about this idiot who was in my class: hate, hate, hate. And its true that when I voiced those feelings, used that word, beat someone up with my words, thought I was cooler than someone, Id get a little hit, a tiny hit of satisfaction. But it just leaves ugliness. It doesnt really satisfy. Its like the rope that takes you quickly to a dead end.

Whats the other path? Whats the other way? I knew I had to learn and grow and heal myself. Blame and anger have no place in healing and I choose to heal.

Im not a completely healed saint. Sometimes I struggle to put my ego aside. Sometimes I struggle to step back from aggression. Sometimes I feel those little materialistic pleasures, like when someone says something cool about me, or I get more followers online those things edge in, want to take up space.

But theyre not my pursuit, not my true journey. My pursuit is of whats real and meaningful. I followed the little light of possibility of another way that glowed in my mind even when I was a kid so tiny at times and so dim and Ive seen it explode. Ive seen it shine right into my life, and thats what Ill never stop living for.

I love sevens. Its been a dream job, and weve grown it to be that: paid to train, paid to play. Its such a great set-up. The sport has come a long way since the day I got that Go 4 Gold pamphlet and was blown away by the promise of a contract. Im one of the rare people in New Zealand who have lived that journey, who have gone from there to here. Im there for the team and Ill turn up and Im fit and Im fast and Im determined and I listen and Im coachable. But Im also one of the hungriest rugby players hungry for growth, holistic growth.