Aran's Journey Home
Donation protected
Hello and welcome!
I want to begin by saying thank you for taking the time to visit my page and hear my story. I began this campaign to raise funds for what will (hopefully) be the final surgery in my medical transition; or, as I would prefer to call it, my journey home.
I realize some folks may just want a brief explanation of what I’m asking for and why. I have provided details on that first. For those who are interested, I have shared more of my story below.
I’m requesting assistance to help raise $2,500 for my surgery on June 21, 2018. Since January 2016, I have spent over $25,000 to cover insurance, medical bills, travel and accommodations for surgery with my team in San Francisco. About $15,000 of this has been for a secondary insurance plan because my employers’ plan has a specific exclusion for trans-related care. Washington State does require employers to provide these services, however my employer is self-insured, which (through a legal loop-hole) means they are allowed to discriminate against trans people. I am grateful for my job, and I acknowledge that my position of privilege as a white-passing, male-passing individual has provided greater access to employment that has allowed me to meet these financial needs. I have also had to admit to myself that I can no longer sustain this financial weight on my own.
It is hard for me to admit that I can’t support myself in this final push. And it is harder to ask for help from my community. Thank you for hearing my request.
The breakdown for this fundraising goal of $2,500 is as follows:
$1,200 – this will cover about 50% of the cost of accommodations in San Francisco
$500 – travel expenses (rental car, gas, hotels down and back etc.)
$200 – medical supplies and prescriptions
$600 – financial assistance for my caregiver and partner of 10 years, Rafael/a
The last item is particularly important to me. Rafael/a has been an unbelievable support throughout these last few years. I really could not have made it through this without him. He not only cares for me during my recovery but is an invaluable healthcare provider for the QTPOC community here in Seattle. I pay for all of our food and other expenses, but he is unable to work while we are away. The $600 above does not come close to the true value of his care, but he deserves to be compensated for the incredible support he continues to give.
If anyone wishes to support us but are unable to do so financially, there are many other ways! Please send your energy, prayers and love to Rafael/a and myself on June 21st or any time in the following weeks. Texts or phone calls are always welcome, especially for Rafael/a on the day of surgery. Send us your favorite song at the moment. A picture of the sunset where you are. Cute animal videos. Love and support in any form means so much to us and will go a long way in my recovery.
For those who are interested, I’m honored to share my story with you now.
I am a trans person. I identify as a transman. I was assigned “female” at birth and began my physical/medical transition to “male” about 10 years ago, although my journey began many years before that. People often ask trans folks, “When did you know?”. It’s a difficult question. Try to imagine this: every day you are mistaken for a different gender; every day you are falsely told who you are and what you should be; in every moment you have to pretend to be something you are not; and in every moment you are aware that your body and the perception of your being does not match your spirit. Many of us struggle to understand who we are and how to become who we are in a world that misunderstands, hates, and fears us. Every trans persons’ journey is different. Our goals and desires for ourselves, our bodies, and our lives are all different. How, when and if we transition is unique to all of us. This is my particular journey.
Looking back to some of my childhood memories, I knew who I was as early as 5. I remember making wishes on birthday candles and eyelashes (or anything else that I could wish on) that my body would somehow change and that I would be a “boy”. I remember hoping and wishing that the next time I looked down at my body, I would see what I always knew should be there. It never was. I dealt with depression through adolescence, through my teenage years and into my early 20s as I was unable to express what I felt, and then fearful of my truth. I tried to fit what “female” was: how I should look, dress, behave. It was a complete denial of my spirit. I was confused, suicidal, and completely lost. And eventually I realized that I either needed to honor myself and live my life or die.
It was a terrifying. I risked losing family and friends and so much that I cherished. I have been incredibly fortunate to have supportive family, friends, and partners. People who loved me unconditionally even though they may not have always understood. But transphobia is pervasive in our society. I have lost friends. I have been harassed and assaulted by strangers, classmates, teachers, co-workers. I have had to, and continue to, navigate ignorant and transphobic Western medical systems; enduring invasive questions and catering to cis-doctors who have the power to control and deny trans people our own bodies and lives. I’ve had to receive a DSM-5 diagnosis of “gender dysphoria” to access medically necessary services. I have had to “convince” non-trans providers that I know what I need and that I am mentally and emotionally capable of making decisions for myself.
I began searching for trans community, surgeons and doctors in Toronto 15 years ago. Most of what I was able to find was through word of mouth. The surgeon who did my top surgery was not openly advertising that service at the time. Most of what I learned was from books. And to this day, I say the internet saved my life. The few resources I was able to find and the handful of transmen I met online gave me hope. I am now actively involved in many online surgery groups and make myself readily available to any transperson, online or in person, who has questions or needs support. I essentially had no one to talk to about surgery and, now that I am close to being done with this part of my journey, my intention is to give back as much as I can to make this easier for the next generation.
My transition has been beautiful, awful, exciting, heartbreaking, and magical in ways I would have never imagined. This last surgery is the final step for me on a long road to finally become who I am. It is a journey of finding myself, returning to my spirit, loving my body, and finally coming home to myself. It has been a journey of incredible strength, and I’m fortunate enough that I have been able to get this far. Trans people sometimes refer to their birth name as their “dead name”. But, for me, the baby girl that was me didn’t die when I embarked on this journey. She was born with all the strength of her ancestors behind her, and she finally became powerful enough to give birth to her own spirit.
Chi miigwetch for reading my story.
I am endlessly thankful for your love and support.
I want to begin by saying thank you for taking the time to visit my page and hear my story. I began this campaign to raise funds for what will (hopefully) be the final surgery in my medical transition; or, as I would prefer to call it, my journey home.
I realize some folks may just want a brief explanation of what I’m asking for and why. I have provided details on that first. For those who are interested, I have shared more of my story below.
I’m requesting assistance to help raise $2,500 for my surgery on June 21, 2018. Since January 2016, I have spent over $25,000 to cover insurance, medical bills, travel and accommodations for surgery with my team in San Francisco. About $15,000 of this has been for a secondary insurance plan because my employers’ plan has a specific exclusion for trans-related care. Washington State does require employers to provide these services, however my employer is self-insured, which (through a legal loop-hole) means they are allowed to discriminate against trans people. I am grateful for my job, and I acknowledge that my position of privilege as a white-passing, male-passing individual has provided greater access to employment that has allowed me to meet these financial needs. I have also had to admit to myself that I can no longer sustain this financial weight on my own.
It is hard for me to admit that I can’t support myself in this final push. And it is harder to ask for help from my community. Thank you for hearing my request.
The breakdown for this fundraising goal of $2,500 is as follows:
$1,200 – this will cover about 50% of the cost of accommodations in San Francisco
$500 – travel expenses (rental car, gas, hotels down and back etc.)
$200 – medical supplies and prescriptions
$600 – financial assistance for my caregiver and partner of 10 years, Rafael/a
The last item is particularly important to me. Rafael/a has been an unbelievable support throughout these last few years. I really could not have made it through this without him. He not only cares for me during my recovery but is an invaluable healthcare provider for the QTPOC community here in Seattle. I pay for all of our food and other expenses, but he is unable to work while we are away. The $600 above does not come close to the true value of his care, but he deserves to be compensated for the incredible support he continues to give.
If anyone wishes to support us but are unable to do so financially, there are many other ways! Please send your energy, prayers and love to Rafael/a and myself on June 21st or any time in the following weeks. Texts or phone calls are always welcome, especially for Rafael/a on the day of surgery. Send us your favorite song at the moment. A picture of the sunset where you are. Cute animal videos. Love and support in any form means so much to us and will go a long way in my recovery.
For those who are interested, I’m honored to share my story with you now.
I am a trans person. I identify as a transman. I was assigned “female” at birth and began my physical/medical transition to “male” about 10 years ago, although my journey began many years before that. People often ask trans folks, “When did you know?”. It’s a difficult question. Try to imagine this: every day you are mistaken for a different gender; every day you are falsely told who you are and what you should be; in every moment you have to pretend to be something you are not; and in every moment you are aware that your body and the perception of your being does not match your spirit. Many of us struggle to understand who we are and how to become who we are in a world that misunderstands, hates, and fears us. Every trans persons’ journey is different. Our goals and desires for ourselves, our bodies, and our lives are all different. How, when and if we transition is unique to all of us. This is my particular journey.
Looking back to some of my childhood memories, I knew who I was as early as 5. I remember making wishes on birthday candles and eyelashes (or anything else that I could wish on) that my body would somehow change and that I would be a “boy”. I remember hoping and wishing that the next time I looked down at my body, I would see what I always knew should be there. It never was. I dealt with depression through adolescence, through my teenage years and into my early 20s as I was unable to express what I felt, and then fearful of my truth. I tried to fit what “female” was: how I should look, dress, behave. It was a complete denial of my spirit. I was confused, suicidal, and completely lost. And eventually I realized that I either needed to honor myself and live my life or die.
It was a terrifying. I risked losing family and friends and so much that I cherished. I have been incredibly fortunate to have supportive family, friends, and partners. People who loved me unconditionally even though they may not have always understood. But transphobia is pervasive in our society. I have lost friends. I have been harassed and assaulted by strangers, classmates, teachers, co-workers. I have had to, and continue to, navigate ignorant and transphobic Western medical systems; enduring invasive questions and catering to cis-doctors who have the power to control and deny trans people our own bodies and lives. I’ve had to receive a DSM-5 diagnosis of “gender dysphoria” to access medically necessary services. I have had to “convince” non-trans providers that I know what I need and that I am mentally and emotionally capable of making decisions for myself.
I began searching for trans community, surgeons and doctors in Toronto 15 years ago. Most of what I was able to find was through word of mouth. The surgeon who did my top surgery was not openly advertising that service at the time. Most of what I learned was from books. And to this day, I say the internet saved my life. The few resources I was able to find and the handful of transmen I met online gave me hope. I am now actively involved in many online surgery groups and make myself readily available to any transperson, online or in person, who has questions or needs support. I essentially had no one to talk to about surgery and, now that I am close to being done with this part of my journey, my intention is to give back as much as I can to make this easier for the next generation.
My transition has been beautiful, awful, exciting, heartbreaking, and magical in ways I would have never imagined. This last surgery is the final step for me on a long road to finally become who I am. It is a journey of finding myself, returning to my spirit, loving my body, and finally coming home to myself. It has been a journey of incredible strength, and I’m fortunate enough that I have been able to get this far. Trans people sometimes refer to their birth name as their “dead name”. But, for me, the baby girl that was me didn’t die when I embarked on this journey. She was born with all the strength of her ancestors behind her, and she finally became powerful enough to give birth to her own spirit.
Chi miigwetch for reading my story.
I am endlessly thankful for your love and support.
Organizer
A O
Organizer
Seattle, WA
