Help Rowan get top surgery and survive 2021!
Donation protected
Hi! You can probably guess what I’m going to say here: My name is Rowan, I’m trans, and I’m raising money for top surgery later this spring.
I don’t know how to write a pitch that will convince you to donate to my fundraiser over anyone else’s, and I don’t want to find out. I’m not more important than any other trans person seeking care, or anyone else trying to get by in a world that is all too happy to make that as difficult as possible. All I really want to do with this space is write a little bit about how I feel, and why this matters to me, and then leave the rest up to you.
If you’ve ever wanted something very badly and been forced to wait for it, then you probably know how it feels — like you’re underwater holding your breath, telling yourself that you can make it one more second, and then one more, even as your lungs start to burn and your head starts to pound.
I’ve wanted top surgery for as long as I can remember, even before I knew that was what it was called, even before I knew that I was trans. I’m not good at wanting things; it’s something I had to learn, like most trans people and(/or) abuse survivors. Giving myself permission to want something this important to me has taken years.
A little more than a year ago, I finally let myself start reaching out to surgeons. My tentative plan was to start pursuing surgery in earnest last spring. (I’ve written a little bit about this before.) We all know what happened next. Much of the money I had saved for that purpose, all with the help of family and friends, has gone towards keeping my husband — that's him in the photo, making me smile — and myself afloat through these last awful months of uncertainty and governmental abandonment and anxious waiting.
Last fall, once again with the support of my incredibly generous friends and chosen family, I finally got together all the paperwork that I needed to set up a consultation with a surgeon — clearing the final stumbling block put in my path by my own anxiety and complicated relationship to desire. This is the quote I received from that appointment (click through to see the full image):
It is an odd thing to have a price on my desire in the first place, let alone a price that is more money than I've ever had in my bank account in my life. Much of the time I tell myself that nothing is out of reach if I put my mind to it, and usually that’s true — I can make a long-term plan or find an alternative or just put my nose to the grindstone and earn it. But this is the rare obstacle that I can’t plan around or work around or push through. All I can do is ask for help.
Once you let yourself acknowledge that you want something, it is hard to think about anything else. I have spent my whole life longing to feel at home in my own body. Top surgery will allow me to realize that dream, and your help is the only way I’m going to get it any time in the next decade. That might not sound like a long time by ordinary standards, but it’s an eternity of waiting, and I’ve already spent enough of my life feeling like my future is on hold. I would appreciate anything you can give, anyone you can send this to, any way you can share this, more than I’ll ever be able to express.
Thank you for reading, if you’re still here, and for donating, if you can! If not, that’s more than all right — times are tough all around — but if you wouldn’t mind sharing, you might help this reach someone with a little more to spare, and that would help me just as much.
P.S. For the sake of transparency: I’m hoping to raise more than the price I was quoted for the surgery itself to cover the costs of recovery supplies and any other unforeseen expenses. If this reaches its goal (fingers crossed, please) then any extra money will go towards keeping myself and my husband fed and housed for the rest of the year. We’re both transgender and unemployed in a red state and our options are very limited — but whatever we can, we’ll pay forward in the great tradition of poor queer and trans folk everywhere, passing the same $5 back and forth to whoever needs it most. Thank you!
I don’t know how to write a pitch that will convince you to donate to my fundraiser over anyone else’s, and I don’t want to find out. I’m not more important than any other trans person seeking care, or anyone else trying to get by in a world that is all too happy to make that as difficult as possible. All I really want to do with this space is write a little bit about how I feel, and why this matters to me, and then leave the rest up to you.
If you’ve ever wanted something very badly and been forced to wait for it, then you probably know how it feels — like you’re underwater holding your breath, telling yourself that you can make it one more second, and then one more, even as your lungs start to burn and your head starts to pound.
I’ve wanted top surgery for as long as I can remember, even before I knew that was what it was called, even before I knew that I was trans. I’m not good at wanting things; it’s something I had to learn, like most trans people and(/or) abuse survivors. Giving myself permission to want something this important to me has taken years.
A little more than a year ago, I finally let myself start reaching out to surgeons. My tentative plan was to start pursuing surgery in earnest last spring. (I’ve written a little bit about this before.) We all know what happened next. Much of the money I had saved for that purpose, all with the help of family and friends, has gone towards keeping my husband — that's him in the photo, making me smile — and myself afloat through these last awful months of uncertainty and governmental abandonment and anxious waiting.
Last fall, once again with the support of my incredibly generous friends and chosen family, I finally got together all the paperwork that I needed to set up a consultation with a surgeon — clearing the final stumbling block put in my path by my own anxiety and complicated relationship to desire. This is the quote I received from that appointment (click through to see the full image):
It is an odd thing to have a price on my desire in the first place, let alone a price that is more money than I've ever had in my bank account in my life. Much of the time I tell myself that nothing is out of reach if I put my mind to it, and usually that’s true — I can make a long-term plan or find an alternative or just put my nose to the grindstone and earn it. But this is the rare obstacle that I can’t plan around or work around or push through. All I can do is ask for help.
Once you let yourself acknowledge that you want something, it is hard to think about anything else. I have spent my whole life longing to feel at home in my own body. Top surgery will allow me to realize that dream, and your help is the only way I’m going to get it any time in the next decade. That might not sound like a long time by ordinary standards, but it’s an eternity of waiting, and I’ve already spent enough of my life feeling like my future is on hold. I would appreciate anything you can give, anyone you can send this to, any way you can share this, more than I’ll ever be able to express.
Thank you for reading, if you’re still here, and for donating, if you can! If not, that’s more than all right — times are tough all around — but if you wouldn’t mind sharing, you might help this reach someone with a little more to spare, and that would help me just as much.
P.S. For the sake of transparency: I’m hoping to raise more than the price I was quoted for the surgery itself to cover the costs of recovery supplies and any other unforeseen expenses. If this reaches its goal (fingers crossed, please) then any extra money will go towards keeping myself and my husband fed and housed for the rest of the year. We’re both transgender and unemployed in a red state and our options are very limited — but whatever we can, we’ll pay forward in the great tradition of poor queer and trans folk everywhere, passing the same $5 back and forth to whoever needs it most. Thank you!
Organizer
Rowan Morrison
Organizer
Cleveland, OH