‘Not sexy enough': Pia Miranda on the negative feedback young actors face
Each week, Benjamin Law asks public figures to discuss the subjects we're told to keep private by getting them to roll a die. The numbers they land on are the topics they're given. This week he speaks to Pia Miranda. The actor, 52, is best known for her starring role in Looking for Alibrandi, which turns 25 this year. She has also competed on Dancing with the Stars and The Masked Singer, and won her season of Australian Survivor in 2019.
RELIGION
You have both Italian and Irish heritage. Is it safe to assume you're a Catholic? Yes, and I love all the traditions of Catholicism. My husband's a complete atheist – does not understand – but I get really excited about communion and confirmation – the sacraments.
Obviously, being a Catholic has been tricky in the past few years. I still have problems with the Church's views on homosexuality and women not being ordained, but if everyone with progressive views left the Church, it would just be stuck in this mindset. I'm hoping people can change it from the inside out.
Do you still go to Mass? Oh, I'm a fair-weather Catholic, mate [ laughs ]. I don't go to church on Sunday, but I still go to the Vatican and love it. The last time I was in Rome, I went to confession and the priest was like, 'What have you done?' And I went, 'Oh, everything but murder.' And he was like – seriously – 'OK, 10 Hail Marys and your soul will be clean.' [ Laughs ] I'm like, 'Mate, this is why we're Catholic!'
What's your personal vision of heaven? People! I love people! If I got to heaven and all the people I'd ever loved were there – and there was heaps of food – I'd be so happy.
And of hell? Full of people who gave me the shits.
SEX
What were conversations about sex like, growing up in your Catholic family? I don't believe I had many conversations with my family about sex, but I had an older sister and I learnt everything I know through her. I went to an all-girls school and wasn't really interested in boys for a very long time, and thought, 'Am I a lesbian?' Actually, the jury's still out on that.
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Sky News AU
a day ago
- Sky News AU
Fashion model learning to be a man after being pushed to transition at age 15: ‘I was really crazy on the hormones'
In Catholic churches across Manhattan and Brooklyn, Salomé captivated the congregation, uplifting the faithful with her soulful singing and skilled organ playing. The New York Archdiocese Organist Training Program enrollee's musical gifts had her booking gigs across the city. But for years, Salomé's bashful smile and angelic voice concealed a secret — one not even known in the shadows of the confessional. She was a he; Salomé was born Miles. His story is one that's becoming all too familiar: A child with unconventional interests, swayed by strange ideologies on the Internet, is hustled by doctors into a life of medical dependency — only to find himself questioning everything years later. 'They very quickly put me on hormones without really any discernment. Looking back, if I were a doctor, I would think this is a much larger decision than the kid thinks that it is,' he tells The Post. Miles Yardley, as his female persona Salomé, arrived in the Big Apple in 2022 from his native Pennsylvania. He (then she) quickly became the toast of New York's downtown fashion scene. Yardley signed a modeling contract, was featured in a Marc Jacobs perfume ad shot by famed photographer Juergen Teller, exhibited for Enfants Riches Déprimés, and strutted Fashion Week runways for designers Batsheva and Elena Velez — all while singing in parishes and mentoring Catholic schoolchildren in music. Soon Yardley was a regular bohemian socialite, a fixture on podcasts, even flown to Romania to meet the Tate brothers, with virtually everyone unaware of Salomé's secret. But a deepening Catholic faith and a medical scare led Yardley to question how he'd been living his life. Just as quickly as he'd burst onto the scene, early this year Yardley gave it all up and ditched Manhattan's trendy underbelly for a fresh start in sunny California. 'I had to move to LA to detransition because I was like, I don't want to have this conversation with people. I don't want to tell the people hiring me or the parents of the students that I teach that I'm actually a man. I just couldn't deal with that,' Yardley, now 27, tells The Post from his new home in Los Angeles. Yardley signed a modeling contract soon after moving to New York in 2022. Picture: @DollPariah/X In April 2024, Yardley was diagnosed with pituitary adenoma — a type of brain tumor. He also has hypothyroidism. Both conditions have suspected links to hormone therapy. Picture: @DollPariah/X At 15, Yardley found himself a patient in the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia's gender clinic. He'd been late to start puberty and had interests in singing and dancing. Classmates began to ask if he was gay or a girl. He'd never heard of transgenderism. 'I had not questioned my own identity before other people started asking me questions and putting that on me,' he says. After only his second appointment, a Children's Hospital of Philadelphia doctor put Yardley on androgen blockers and later estrogen therapy, calling him 'the perfect example' of a transgender child. 'I thought that there would be less social friction for me if I looked like a female because so many people were assuming me to be that way. And I was not super comfortable with people assuming I was gay,' Yardley says. For many years, everything seemed fine. He graduated from high school, taught music at a West Philadelphia Catholic school, and enrolled in Temple University to study music. In fact, he felt that being transgender gave him an edge. As a singer, his voice remained a soprano. He then met an in-crowder from New York who persuaded him to move to the city and pursue modeling — 'but only if you lose 20 pounds.' 'I think I benefited from the [trans] identity in terms of being a model, being a socialite, a party attendee in New York City, and it was a cool, cosmopolitan, artistic thing to be doing with your body,' Yardley says. 'I had entered a different world, where everyone thought I was really cool.' In April 2024, Yardley was diagnosed with pituitary adenoma — a type of brain tumor — and has hypothyroidism. Both conditions have suspected links to hormone therapy. At the same time, Yardley was becoming closer to people at his church, which he found a welcome reprieve from the cattiness of couture life. 'I realized that I'm hurting myself. I'm poisoning myself. I'm sterilizing myself. The normal things that bring meaning to normal people's lives I'm shut off from because I can't have children in this state. I can't do the normal things that bring normal people meaning,' Yardley says of the moment he began to question the experts and trans ideology. 'When you're 15, you think, 'Well, I'm a weird person. I don't need to worry about that.' The long-term consequences were unimaginable to me.' Since quitting estrogen in January, he's come to recognize other negative side effects. 'I was really crazy on the hormones,' he said. 'I was mentally unstable and cognitively impaired. And generally fatigued, tired, not strong at all in ways that I'm only now coming to really understand.' Yet the path has been a solitary one. The medical establishment abandoned Yardley on this new journey to live authentically. While doctors were all too eager to put him on life-changing medications, there's no protocol for what to do if a patient stops treatment. When that happens, doctors seem to simply lose interest. 'I've asked multiple doctors for advice, and they don't know what to do,' Yardley says on stopping hormone treatment, a process that 'makes you feel [physically] awful. It's been difficult.' 'They just say, 'You should ask someone else.' At a certain point, how many other people can I ask before I just figure it out on my own?' Even before President Trump's second term — in which the backlash against childhood gender transitioning has been swift and damning — the United Kingdom, Denmark, Sweden, Norway, Finland, and the Australian state of Queensland had moved to ban or restrict puberty blockers and cross-sex hormones for minors.x In a landmark June ruling, the US Supreme Court upheld a state ban on so-called gender-affirming care for minors. This month, the Department of Justice launched an investigation into more than 20 doctors and gender clinics for minors. The nation's largest youth-gender clinic, the Center for Transyouth Health and Development at Children's Hospital Los Angeles, closed up shop Tuesday, citing the Trump administration. The White House also just announced it will cut federal funding for hospitals that provide minors with gender-transition procedures. Yardley has joined the fight, although he's never thought much of himself as an activist. He's suing the Children's Hospital of Philadelphia for medical malpractice. Yardley's hair is now cut short and dyed a brassy blond. He says both old friends and strangers are sometimes confused about how to address him — a problem he never had when he lived as Salomé. 'I've tried to enter the men's restroom a few times, where someone was like, 'Hey! The women's room's over there!' ' he says. 'It was super awkward. Nobody ever redirected me as a woman.' He doesn't know yet if his medicalized youth has rendered him permanently sterile. But it's not all gloom. At his new home, Yardley has started a band, Pariah the Doll (he's calling the debut album 'Castrato'), and launched a clothing line, Eunuch for the Kingdom. He'd like to meet a nice Catholic girl and settle down — but he's also preparing for a life of celibacy, should it come to that. 'Having spent 10 years in the female role, I don't really know how to be a man. That's a scary jump for me,' Yardley tells The Post. Still, he holds no ill-will toward those who set him off on this course — and that includes his own mother. 'I wouldn't even say that she was supportive of it. It was just, like most parents, she trusted doctors because if you are a boomer, like she is, you have no reason to distrust doctors. Their legitimacy is pretty firm in your mind as someone of that generation. So I don't blame her.' As for those doctors, Yardley is surprisingly merciful. 'I don't believe, as a Christian, that people are setting out to do evil for evil's sake. I don't think anyone has that in their heart,' he said. 'But I think it has a lot to do with an overreach of professionals and a lot to do with money. Hospitals make a lot of money from these procedures. They benefit from having lifelong patients, which is what transgender people are. You need the hormones to maintain the identity.' If he could go back, would he change any of it? 'There's no way to live your life without making mistakes or going down the wrong path,' Yardley says. 'My life would be totally different if I made different decisions at 15 years old, so I can't really conceive of a different path. I don't live in a regret state. In many ways, I'm extraordinary lucky.' He does, however, wish that doctors would learn to be more open-minded. 'If you're a gender-nonconforming kid, you should be allowed to be yourself. I think that was the biggest problem. I didn't feel like I could be confident in who I was. And if that person happens to like singing and dancing and cooking and Barbie dolls, who really cares? You can be a boy who likes that,' Yardley says. 'At the time, nobody in my life told me that was possible.' Originally published as Fashion model learning to be a man after being pushed to transition at age 15: 'I was really crazy on the hormones'
West Australian
a day ago
- West Australian
Michael Usher overthinks everything, except his toe-tapping decision to go on Dancing with the Stars
If Michael Usher had given himself a chance to really think about joining the cast of Dancing with the Stars, he probably would've said no. 'It was such a rapid left or right turn out of my lane, and I kind of figured, 'what did I have to lose?',' he told The Nightly. 'Some people might look at it and think, 'What's he doing, that's not him at all'. If I asked all my serious mates in the newsroom, they would've thought I was mad, but I wasn't doing it for them.' Usher has been a TV journalist for 35 years and you've seen him reporting from Iraq, from the Olympics and from behind the news desk. You had never before seen him in a sequined waistcoat while moving his hips under a mirrored ball. When the call came, luckily, it wasn't for SAS Australia. That would've been an outright no. 'I would've had a heart attack in the first run up the hill, I think it would've killed me,' Usher speculated. But Dancing with the Stars was different. 'I asked the kids and they said yes, partly because I think they thought it would be new material for them to laugh at me a lot. They've got wicked senses of humour, those kids. 'At my age, when you get a chance to do something different and learn something new, why not? Even if it's very publicly. It's a great way to get on top of nerves and fears. I've done lots of serious things for a long time, and I know the temptation of just having a bit of fun, and learning something new was too good to pass up.' Usher may not have overthought the decision, but he did every step of the process. 'Even since doing (the show), I've danced every dance in my dreams, I've woken up thinking about it, I've danced the steps 10 million times over, (thought) about what I would've done differently, and how I might've looked differently,' Usher confessed. His dance partner, Natalie Lowe, had to pull him from his natural inclination to overthink it. 'She said, 'I really need you to stop using your brain, just feel it, I need you to stop thinking and being a journalist and asking questions, otherwise, we're not going to get these steps learned',' Usher recalled. 'It was good advice. Just shutting up and not asking questions is really hard.' Lowe wasn't the only one who had set Usher straight about his role in the show. His fascination with how Dancing with the Stars was put together – the editing, the music, the crews – prompted the producers to remind him that it was their show, and that he should just chill. For perhaps the first time, he was the subject. Usher is used to telling the story, not being the one answering the questions, something he's had to do a lot of due to the publicity demands of the competition series and now that he's up for a Logie in a new category, the Ray Martin Award for Most Popular News or Public Affairs Presenter. It's not a 'super comfortable' space for Usher, but he doesn't hate it. 'We all like to see people do something different and learn something new about the people we think we know,' he explained. 'I don't like that celebrity stuff, but I think people do like to see other sides of people, and that's not a bad thing. That's human life, that's just curiosity. 'I'd be pretty cynical if, after all these years of asking a lot of people to come and sit down with me and share their life story, if the opportunity then came my way and I said 'no way am I going to expose myself'.' Which is not to say he didn't consider the implications of how audience perception of him as a serious news man might change. 'You don't have to be a two-dimensional person,' he said. 'We live in a different era now and you can be a few different things. I've got a life, I've got a personality of my own, but I don't show it very much. I didn't mind showing that. I probably showed a little bit too much! 'The anxious side of it, maybe the daggy side of it, less sitched-up, buttoned-up, neat hair and curated. This was a bit more loose and freeform. But as the kids said, 'Just go and show everyone else what we see at home, people will either die laughing or just die for you'.' He didn't just learn a few extra steps on the floor, being the subject gave him a more mindful appreciation of the people he's usually asking questions of. And there are things he didn't give away – and is adamant should never give away as a journalist. He said that anyone who has ever balled up him for having an opinion about something political, they've been wrong. 'People want your personal opinion drawn out of you all the time. Fine, go and be a commentator or be an opinion maker. But if you want to have those views, there's no room for it in the 6pm news bulletin or Spotlight.' The public might know his thoughts on mastering a pasodoble, but they don't know how he votes. 'If they do, they're wrong,' he said. Some things are sacred but others – like how he and his kids have a deeper relationship now because of his jaunt on the dance floor, his daughter cried at every taping she went to, or that he's taking lessons with his partner – he's OK to share. What he took from the wild six months of pulling double duty as a news man and a dance man is the joy in giving it go. 'I love seeing my kids do that. I don't expect them to excel, but just give it a go. So, I took the same advice that I've given to my children.' The Logie Awards are on Channel 7 on August 3 at 7.30pm
Perth Now
a day ago
- Perth Now
Michael Usher overthinks everything except when he said yes
If Michael Usher had given himself a chance to really think about joining the cast of Dancing with the Stars, he probably would've said no. 'It was such a rapid left or right turn out of my lane, and I kind of figured, 'what did I have to lose?',' he told The Nightly. 'Some people might look at it and think, 'What's he doing, that's not him at all'. If I asked all my serious mates in the newsroom, they would've thought I was mad, but I wasn't doing it for them.' Usher has been a TV journalist for 35 years and you've seen him reporting from Iraq, from the Olympics and from behind the news desk. You had never before seen him in a sequined waistcoat while moving his hips under a mirrored ball. When the call came, luckily, it wasn't for SAS Australia. That would've been an outright no. 'I would've had a heart attack in the first run up the hill, I think it would've killed me,' Usher speculated. But Dancing with the Stars was different. 'I asked the kids and they said yes, partly because I think they thought it would be new material for them to laugh at me a lot. They've got wicked senses of humour, those kids. 'At my age, when you get a chance to do something different and learn something new, why not? Even if it's very publicly. It's a great way to get on top of nerves and fears. I've done lots of serious things for a long time, and I know the temptation of just having a bit of fun, and learning something new was too good to pass up.' The Dancing With The Stars 2025 cast. Nicholas Wilson Credit: Nicholas Wilson / Nicholas Wilson Usher may not have overthought the decision, but he did every step of the process. 'Even since doing (the show), I've danced every dance in my dreams, I've woken up thinking about it, I've danced the steps 10 million times over, (thought) about what I would've done differently, and how I might've looked differently,' Usher confessed. His dance partner, Natalie Lowe, had to pull him from his natural inclination to overthink it. 'She said, 'I really need you to stop using your brain, just feel it, I need you to stop thinking and being a journalist and asking questions, otherwise, we're not going to get these steps learned',' Usher recalled. 'It was good advice. Just shutting up and not asking questions is really hard.' Lowe wasn't the only one who had set Usher straight about his role in the show. His fascination with how Dancing with the Stars was put together – the editing, the music, the crews – prompted the producers to remind him that it was their show, and that he should just chill. For perhaps the first time, he was the subject. Usher is used to telling the story, not being the one answering the questions, something he's had to do a lot of due to the publicity demands of the competition series and now that he's up for a Logie in a new category, the Ray Martin Award for Most Popular News or Public Affairs Presenter. It's not a 'super comfortable' space for Usher, but he doesn't hate it. 'We all like to see people do something different and learn something new about the people we think we know,' he explained. 'I don't like that celebrity stuff, but I think people do like to see other sides of people, and that's not a bad thing. That's human life, that's just curiosity. 'I'd be pretty cynical if, after all these years of asking a lot of people to come and sit down with me and share their life story, if the opportunity then came my way and I said 'no way am I going to expose myself'.' Michael Usher with dance partner Natalie Lowe. Credit: Seven Which is not to say he didn't consider the implications of how audience perception of him as a serious news man might change. 'You don't have to be a two-dimensional person,' he said. 'We live in a different era now and you can be a few different things. I've got a life, I've got a personality of my own, but I don't show it very much. I didn't mind showing that. I probably showed a little bit too much! 'The anxious side of it, maybe the daggy side of it, less sitched-up, buttoned-up, neat hair and curated. This was a bit more loose and freeform. But as the kids said, 'Just go and show everyone else what we see at home, people will either die laughing or just die for you'.' He didn't just learn a few extra steps on the floor, being the subject gave him a more mindful appreciation of the people he's usually asking questions of. And there are things he didn't give away – and is adamant should never give away as a journalist. He said that anyone who has ever balled up him for having an opinion about something political, they've been wrong. If you'd like to view this content, please adjust your . To find out more about how we use cookies, please see our Cookie Guide. 'People want your personal opinion drawn out of you all the time. Fine, go and be a commentator or be an opinion maker. But if you want to have those views, there's no room for it in the 6pm news bulletin or Spotlight.' The public might know his thoughts on mastering a pasodoble, but they don't know how he votes. 'If they do, they're wrong,' he said. Some things are sacred but others – like how he and his kids have a deeper relationship now because of his jaunt on the dance floor, his daughter cried at every taping she went to, or that he's taking lessons with his partner – he's OK to share. What he took from the wild six months of pulling double duty as a news man and a dance man is the joy in giving it go. 'I love seeing my kids do that. I don't expect them to excel, but just give it a go. So, I took the same advice that I've given to my children.' The Logie Awards are on Channel 7 on August 3 at 7.30pm
