Rowan's Transition Fund
Donation protected
Even as a little kid I felt somehow not-quite-right in my body; for years before I had the language and self-knowledge to articulate it, I was experiencing the disconnect between the external perception of my gender and my internal experience of it that we call gender dysphoria. For those unfamiliar with that particular hell, it feels at times like you're going insane, like the world and everyone around you sees you as something you know intimately that you are not. That happens, nearly every minute of every day of your life, until you are confronted with the realization that you have been living a lie that your family, friends, and entire society has reinforced at every level. Trans people call that confrontation "hatching" and those of us yet to realize their transness are "eggs." In reality, hatching is a process that happens over the course of your life, punctuated by moments of rapid realization that you have been wrong or disingenuous in your presentation of yourself.
I knew some trans people but the question of my own transness was not one that I was prepared to consider until I found myself in quarantine. From June 2020 to the present I have been in a continuous process of self-discovery, unlearning destructive behaviors and toxic traits. Part of this self-discovery is my medical transition, which began in March 2021 and now brings me to this website. The most significant and lasting experience of my dysphoria arises from my genitalia. Genital dysphoria is not a requisite part of the transgender experience but it sure as hell is part of mine, and it forces me to live in constant terror of being incontrovertibly clocked, or identified as a trans person by a cis, and often hostile, audience. Fortunately, there are ways that my situation can be substantially improved, for example with bottom surgery. Most insurances consider gender affirming procedures "cosmetic," because cis people are in charge of everything, but I assure you that my interest in vaginoplasty is not an anesthetic concern. To date I have never looked at my body and felt like it was me. My sexual experiences have either been painfully dysphoric and at times traumatic or a delicate compromise for the sake of physical intimacy. Bottom surgery would let me have a body that I feel at home in.
I knew some trans people but the question of my own transness was not one that I was prepared to consider until I found myself in quarantine. From June 2020 to the present I have been in a continuous process of self-discovery, unlearning destructive behaviors and toxic traits. Part of this self-discovery is my medical transition, which began in March 2021 and now brings me to this website. The most significant and lasting experience of my dysphoria arises from my genitalia. Genital dysphoria is not a requisite part of the transgender experience but it sure as hell is part of mine, and it forces me to live in constant terror of being incontrovertibly clocked, or identified as a trans person by a cis, and often hostile, audience. Fortunately, there are ways that my situation can be substantially improved, for example with bottom surgery. Most insurances consider gender affirming procedures "cosmetic," because cis people are in charge of everything, but I assure you that my interest in vaginoplasty is not an anesthetic concern. To date I have never looked at my body and felt like it was me. My sexual experiences have either been painfully dysphoric and at times traumatic or a delicate compromise for the sake of physical intimacy. Bottom surgery would let me have a body that I feel at home in.
Organizer
Rowan Unger
Organizer
Pittsburgh, PA