Help Melissa get Gender Affirming Facial Surgery

Every one of my mornings begins with an inventory of compromises—modulating my voice, softening my gestures, rehearsing reactions to the hesitation in strangers’ eyes.

Gender-affirming facial surgery (FFS) is not about changing who I am. It is about ending the daily labor of translating myself, of pleading for recognition in glances that should be effortless. It is about waking up and seeing my face in the mirror without hesitation. It is the luxury of forgetting my appearance for hours at a time, of entering a room present rather than braced for impact.

This is also a matter of safety. After four assaults, after interviews where my qualifications mattered less than the flicker of confusion across the interviewer's face — "How did you get this meeting link? We were expecting Melissa." — I know the stakes in my bones. Surgery will not erase society’s biases, but it will transform the toll of navigating them from crushing to manageable.

Most of all, it is about reclaiming the hours, days, and years spent seeking basic acknowledgment, time that I instead could be devoted to creating, building, and truly living. My daily modifications are not choices. They are taxes, levied in time, extracted in energy, paid in the focus I owe to my work, my community, and myself.

For me, this surgery represents building a life. When I imagine that freedom, I see more than just my reflection at peace. I see a chance to get back on my feet so I can be there for others the same way. I know everyone has their own struggles, now more than ever, and I'm deeply grateful you've taken time to consider mine. If you're able to contribute, every dollar brings me closer to stability. If you can't give right now, sharing this fundraiser helps more than you know.

Thank you for reading.

x Mel

My timeline:

The financial reality:

After years of waiting, my insurance will cover most of my FFS—but I still need $18,767:

• $15,000 for surgical procedures

• $3,676 for 2hrs OR time (enough to change a life)

I’ve saved $2.8k over the past few years, which will accommodate some of my recovery expenses. That said, there is no way I could personally cover the rest; otherwise, I would never ask for this. I plan on returning to remote work within a week of recovery, and in-person bartending within two weeks of recovery (recommended 3-4 weeks of recovery), to minimize my financial burden on others.

My primary, full-time job recently ended due to overstaffing (though my former employers are generously supporting my career transition through severance and referrals, and I expect to be back to work soon). I have begun donating plasma as often as allowed. My part-time marketing work brings in $1,600/month—enough to survive, but not to save for this. Unfortunately, stretching myself this thin won’t close the gap in time.

In the unlikely event there's any left over after paying for surgery, every extra dollar will go to trans mutual aid funds that center people of color.

With federal attacks on trans healthcare accelerating - constitutional protections revoked, bans potentially spreading to adults, insurance coverage potentially being rolled back, even our medical records at risk - this window for safe, legal care is closing fast. This may be my best chance of receiving care within the foreseeable future.

How you can help:

❶ Donate any amount – Even $1 chips away at this mountain

❷ Share with cis allies – Many don’t realize FFS is lifesaving care

❸ Consider matching your gift to the Palestine Children’s Relief Fund , Dahnoun Mutual Aid , Black Trans Liberation , or any other fundraiser that supports families disrupted by ICE.