Ash Jackson’s book Beyond Trans reads like a symphony of survival, a raw and haunting exploration of one woman’s journey through chaos, creation, and courage. It opens with the rhythms of childhood, where Ash dreamed of fame and music filled her imagination with the promise of escape. Even as a young girl growing up in a world that didn’t yet understand her, she found solace in sound. Her guitar became a refuge, a place where the noise of confusion and self-doubt could transform into melody. The early years were marked by longing and insecurity, the kind that festers quietly when you’re different but can’t yet name why. The music was her first language of truth, a way to say what words couldn’t.
As her talent blossomed, Ash built a remarkable career that would eventually stretch across more than three decades. She became one of Australia’s most versatile musicians, an accomplished guitarist, songwriter, composer, and producer. Her work spanned genres and industries: rock and pop albums, film and television scores, orchestral compositions, experimental soundscapes, and even a leap into TV production with the creation of Oz Fish TV, a quirky and successful fishing show now airing on Channel 7mate and Foxtel. Behind this artistic versatility was a perfectionist who had honed her craft with relentless discipline. She graduated from the Box Hill Institute of Performing Arts with an Advanced Diploma in Music Performance and a Bachelor of Music in composition, collecting awards along the way for academic excellence and compositional brilliance. On paper, it all looked like triumph. But Ash’s story is a reminder that the brightest spotlight often casts the darkest shadow.
Fame and success could not drown out the pain she carried. Her struggles with gender identity and mental health simmered beneath the surface, often colliding with the public image she had built as a strong performer. The world saw the confident musician on stage, but few glimpsed the quiet ache of someone trying to find authenticity in a world that often punishes difference. Before she could become the woman she is today, Ash wrestled with isolation, rejection, and despair. Her gender affirmation was not simply a physical transformation but an act of defiance against years of shame and misunderstanding. Every note she wrote, every song she sang, became an entry in a personal diary of survival. Her music, deeply infused with themes of loneliness, love, and trauma, carries the echoes of her lived experience. It is never just art for art’s sake; it’s confession, catharsis, and connection all at once.
Yet Beyond Trans does not linger solely in the emotional terrain of transition. It also dives headfirst into one of the most controversial chapters of Ash’s life: her involvement in Melbourne’s anti-lockdown movement. In 2020, as COVID-19 restrictions strangled the creative industries and isolated countless people, Ash found herself pulled into a web of conspiracy theories and misinformation. The movement offered her something she had long been searching for, belonging. In a world that had often made her feel like an outsider, the “freedom” community seemed, at first, like a sanctuary. She was visible, heard, part of a cause. But what began as disillusionment with government control spiraled into obsession. Caught up in the fever of protests, she waved flags, clashed with police, and was arrested multiple times. The deeper she fell, the more she lost, friends, family, work, and her sense of self.
Ash recounts these days with painful honesty. She describes the paranoia that took hold of her, the way her world shrank to online echo chambers filled with anger and fear. There was a point when she truly believed she might be rounded up and imprisoned for her beliefs. Her apartment became a fortress, its doors barricaded with furniture, its windows booby-trapped against imaginary threats. It was a descent into psychological chaos that mirrored the wider madness consuming so many during the pandemic. For Ash, the turning point came during one of her arrests. Expecting hostility, she instead found empathy. The police officers who spoke to her treated her not as an enemy but as a human being. Their kindness shattered the illusion of persecution she had built around herself. It was, in her words, a lightbulb moment, the instant she realized how far she had drifted from reality.
The aftermath was brutal. Once she stepped away from the movement, she fell into depression, ashamed and disoriented. But it was also the beginning of her healing. Slowly, with therapy, reflection, and the support of loved ones, she began rebuilding. Her family welcomed her back, forgiving and loving her through the wreckage. Returning to music, she found new strength in composition and performance, channeling her remorse and renewal into songs that tell uncomfortable truths with unflinching honesty. Beyond Trans captures this evolution beautifully, portraying not a saint or a victim but a complex, flawed, and deeply human woman.
Ash’s journey speaks to something larger than any single life. It touches on the human hunger for belonging, the seductive pull of false certainty in uncertain times, and the power of art to rescue us from despair. Her story shows how trauma can make us vulnerable to manipulation, but also how compassion, whether from a stranger or a song, can guide us back. What makes Beyond Trans so compelling is its refusal to simplify. It doesn’t gloss over the contradictions of Ash’s past or the mistakes she made. Instead, it embraces them as part of her ongoing process of becoming.
Today, Ash Jackson stands as a testament to resilience. She is not defined by her trans identity, her political missteps, or even her musical accolades, but by her willingness to confront her own darkness and turn it into something that might help others. Her music continues to evolve, infused with hard-earned wisdom and emotional depth. In Beyond Trans, she gives readers an unfiltered look at a life lived on the edge of both destruction and redemption. It is a story of a woman who learned that transformation is not a single act but a lifelong practice, a symphony written in the language of pain, survival, and hope.
Available via Amazon
and theage.com.au



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