My name is Malcolm. I am 35 years old, a U.S. Army veteran, Black,

and non-binary. I deployed to Kuwait. I came home carrying wounds

that don't show up on the outside — PTSD from Military Sexual Trauma,

chronic spinal injuries, sleep apnea, migraines, depression, nerve

damage, and more. The VA has confirmed many of these conditions. A

formal disability claim with multiple service-connected conditions is

currently being reviewed and awaiting a decision.

I am not here asking for sympathy. I am here because I am in a

genuine crisis that no person ( veteran or not ) should ever have to

face alone. And I need help getting through the next few months until

my VA compensation is in place.

Here is my reality right now:

Since November 2025, I have had zero income. My SNAP and cash

assistance benefits were suspended, and the process to restore them

has been slow and complicated by my disabilities. My bank account is

in the negative. I have been unable to afford basic hygiene items —

toothpaste, soap, deodorant — since at least December 2025. I cannot

afford to do laundry. I cannot afford the distilled water that my

VA-issued medical equipment (a CPAP machine and nasal rinse device)

requires to function. These are not luxuries. These are medical

necessities that were prescribed to me by the VA.

My internet ( Starry Internet ) is scheduled to be shut off on

March 18, 2026, unless I can pay a $60 balance. I know $60 sounds

small. But when you have zero dollars, $60 might as well be $6,000.

And losing that internet is not just an inconvenience. It is my only

reliable way to communicate with the VA for telehealth appointments,

to work with my VSO on my disability claim, to coordinate with legal

advocates, and to access housing services. I have no car. I live in

Far Rockaway, Queens; one of the most isolated parts of New York

City, where food is expensive and services are far away. My phone

carrier only allows 2GB of data per month. Without internet, I am

effectively cut off from everything I need to survive.

I feel like I have to say this: I am not lazy. I am not asking for

handouts because it's easy. I have spent years documenting, calling,

emailing, and advocating for myself through one of the most complex

bureaucratic systems in the country. I have done this while managing

PTSD, chronic pain, executive dysfunction, and the kind of invisible

illness that people dismiss because they can't see it on my body. I

am 35. I am not missing a limb, and I know some people think that

means I should "just get a job." What those people don't see are the

days I cannot get out of bed, the migraines that steal full days,

the nerve pain that makes basic tasks nearly impossible, and the

psychological weight of fighting a system that was supposed to protect

me ( for years ) while barely surviving.

I have tried every formal channel available to me. I have contacted

city agencies, state agencies, veteran service organizations, and

legal aid offices. Many are doing their best. Many are overwhelmed.

And all of it moves slowly, far too slowly for an internet shutoff

on March 18 or a bank account that needs to stay open so my VA back

pay has somewhere to land when my claim is approved.

This is what I need your help with:

— Keeping my internet on so I can manage my care and my claim

— Bringing my bank account out of the negative so VA compensation

has somewhere to deposit

— Covering 2–3 months of basic hygiene: toothpaste, soap, laundry

— Buying distilled water for my VA medical devices

— Supplementing food costs in a neighborhood where groceries are

significantly more expensive than elsewhere in NYC

— A small buffer for any administrative costs while I navigate

the legal and benefits process

Every single dollar matters. GoFundMe processes a small transaction

fee per donation (2.9% + $0.30), which means slightly less reaches

me — but every contribution still makes a real difference.

I also want to say this clearly, for anyone who needs to hear it:

This is what it looks like to be a veteran of color in America.

Not a parade. Not a "thank you for your service." A 35-year-old

person fighting alone — against illness, bureaucracy, poverty,

and silence — in the country they served. I'm not telling you this

to be political. I'm telling you this because I believe the truth

matters, and because if sharing my story helps one person understand

what our veterans actually face, then something good will have come

from all of this pain.

I am still here. I am still fighting. I just need a little help

getting through right now.

My CashApp is $techmagus and that goes through so much faster if you feel that would be easier for you, and still want to help.

Thank you for reading this. Thank you for anything you can give.

And if you cannot donate, sharing this page costs nothing and

means everything.

With gratitude,

Malcolm

U.S. Army Veteran | Queens, New York

Update: Amazon Wishlist for Survival Essentials

A few people have asked if there’s another way to help besides donating here, so I’ve created an Amazon wishlist with the specific items I need to stay alive and somewhat stable while I wait for my benefits to be approved:

Amazon Wishlist: https://www.amazon.com/hz/wishlist/ls/33PMA55LKDZCD?ref_=wl_share

These are not luxury items. They are basics I haven’t been able to afford for months:

- Hygiene care for my skin and hair (African black soap, Meswak toothpaste, lotion, wipes, socks, underwear, towels).

- Supplies to manage disability‑related issues (waterproof mattress cover for incontinence, pillowcase and bonnet to protect my hair and skin, laundry detergent so I can finally wash my clothes and bedding).

- Simple shelf‑stable food so I can eat when I’m too sick or in too much pain to cook full meals.

- A few optional, disability‑aid items, like a small air fryer, to cook safely when I cannot stand at the stove for long due to chronic pain and PTSD.

If you are only able to buy one item, that still makes a real difference. One bar of soap, one pack of underwear, one box of food, or one bottle of lotion is another day I can stay clean, fed, and a little safer in my body while the VA and housing systems slowly process my case.

If you’d rather send something that isn’t on the list but you think would help a disabled Black veteran in this situation, I welcome that too. I am deeply grateful for any support—whether it is a share, a single item from the list, or a donation here on GoFundMe.