Dame Susan Devoy dominated squash in the 80s and 90s. Four times world squash champion, and eight times winner of the British Open, Devoy has also held numerous governance roles, including Race Relations Commissioner from 2013-18. Devoy will soon test her mettle by competing in Celebrity Treasure Island, which premiered yesterday on TVNZ2 and TVNZ+.
As the youngest of seven, with six older brothers, I had a rough-and-tumble sort of upbringing. I was never interested in girly things, much to my mother's dismay. My brothers were all sporty, and because they all played squash, they spent their weekends traipsing around the country going to tournaments, so I had to tag along. My parents and brothers also spent a lot of time at the squash club bars, so when they were at the bar, I'd grab a racket and hit squash balls. That's how I got hooked.
When I was nine, I started playing in tournaments. And when I was 12, I knew squash was what I wanted to do. I was focused from a very early age. My parents were incredibly supportive but they didn't know much about high-performance sport so I had to be pretty self-motivated - luckily I loved training as much as I loved competing.
My parents didn't realise I wasn't spending much time at school until it was too late. I was at MacKillop College in Rotorua, a school for stroppy Catholic girls, but I left halfway through seventh form. I had an altercation with one of the nuns when she asked me if I wanted to be at school or play squash. I thought that was a dumb question, because obviously I wanted to play squash. For the first three weeks, I didn't tell my parents I'd left. I'd put my school uniform on each morning, then hide under the house till they'd gone to work. Eventually, I plucked up the courage to tell them I wanted to have a crack at the squash circuit.
I left Rotorua and went to the UK aged 17. Looking back, it was daunting. Squash NZ was fantastic but we didn't have high-performance sport. There was no sports science, and certainly no sports psychologists. If anyone ever needed one of those it usually meant they were in real trouble. That's all changed now, but back then we muddled through, working it out as we went along.
Squash was very popular in the 80s so I wasn't a pioneer. My biggest issue on the circuit was the way female players were treated. Our prize money was ridiculously low compared to men, and women were often billeted while men stayed in hotels. In my early 20s, I became very conscious of the game being skewed towards men, and I advocated loudly. I wasn't even asking for equal pay, just a fairer share of the pie. Things certainly improved once I started winning world championships, and today squash does have equal prize money.
I retired from squash in 1992 and my son was born nine months later. I had actually been pregnant the year before although I didn't know until a few days before I miscarried, I just knew something felt wrong. When I went to the doctor, he asked if I could be pregnant. I said it was possible, then I lost it. When I retired the morning after winning the British Open for the seventh time, once again I was pregnant and didn't know it. If someone has said to me that day, in five years you'll have four sons, I wouldn't have believed them but that's what happened.
I could've kept playing but I'd lost the motivation to do what I had to do to stay on top. I'd also not had the best year before I retired. Not only the miscarriage, I'd also had a good taste of losing. I felt no grief for squash. I certainly didn't suffer from any hero-to-zero stuff and a few months after our first son was born, I was pregnant with another. Then another and another, and I had no inclination to go near a squash court. That was it for me.
Besides being a parent, I was still busy. I was on The Halberg Trust, and part of the 2000 Peer Review for Sport. In a moment of madness, I joined the Auckland District Health Board. There were also opportunities to work with kids and lots of speaking engagements so, while I was a stay-at-home mum, I also kept the old grey matter in working order.
I'm all about reinvention and in 2001 we moved to Tauranga and I applied to be CEO of Sport BOP. Five years there was like going to university and doing a management degree. When I got a call one Sunday night from the CEO of the Ministry of Justice, I thought, "ooh I'm really in trouble". But they asked if I wanted to apply to be Race Relations Commissioner. Some people thought it was a case of let's find some random and put her up for it, but I'd done a lot of stuff in the 20 years since I'd retired from squash, and I still had to go through the application process.
What did I learn? How many days have you got? As an organisation, we supposedly had a lot of grunt for making change. The United Nations was behind us, and all these reporting mechanisms, so we should have been telling the country how bad we are at certain things instead of trying to compare ourselves to other countries and think we're not that bad. Because we need to acknowledge we have a problem with racism. It's great to have the Treaty of Waitangi as our founding document, but we should also be embarrassed - disgusted even - not to have honoured it. Co-governance can and should work, but people only hear bad things about it - like Three Waters being made a Māori issue. There's also the issue of some people worrying about things being taken from them that weren't even theirs in the first place.
When I left the Commission I was burnt out and because my husband was working in Melbourne, I went there for there and was Neville Nobody for a year. I also had a good talk to myself, and I made a pact never to do anything that would put me under public scrutiny ever again but, if anything puts you under public scrutiny, it's this show [Celebrity Treasure Island].
When I was first asked to do it, I rolled around on the floor laughing. Then I thought why not? Partly because I'd become a bit of a hermit, and I'm also at a stage in life where I'm very happy. I don't care what people say about me. I'm not going to wake up and read the comments on social media and it might even be a bit of a laugh.
The actual reality of making it? There wasn't much laughing. The food was bloody awful, so you're hungry, tired, manipulated, wound up. Sunburnt one day, windburned the next, nearly drowned the day after that. I had some really good times, and sometimes I completely lost my rag. The challenges are easier for some people than others. I have a real fear of the sea, of swimming in open water. I nearly drowned when I was about 13 and I never got over it, but sometimes I was out there bobbing around like a little dolphin.
Another upside was meeting a group of cool people I'd never have otherwise met and of course I got on better with some of them than others. I also broke a few rules and was threatened with expulsion. Some people thought I'd be difficult while other contestants had no idea who I was. My world titles had no relevance for them but I've been around a long time, and overall it was very interesting. My first taste of freedom, I went straight for the wine. It could've been a million-dollar bottle or a five-dollar bottle, I didn't care.
I chose The Aunties as my charity because they give women who have struggled a second chance at a more meaningful, purposeful life. The Aunties restore women's mana and dignity and they offer healing, which is more than just providing clothes and blankets and a safe place for their children. Jackie Clarke, the woman who started The Aunties, is the most kick-arse woman I've ever met. It's all very well being philanthropic or doing good stuff, but Jackie taught me the real meaning of giving.
From where to get the best view to when the roads will close.