Hello, and thank you so much for stumbling across my GoFundMe. It means the world to me that you even took the time to click on the link and hear my story. So, without further ado, let me lay it all out.

​Backstory​

I was assigned female at birth, but when I hit puberty, I started to feel uncomfortable in my body. I was unsure what was wrong, but I knew that something in me felt different than how I saw my peers relate to their bodies. A typical trans storyline, I know. I started to explore my gender more and more as I approached my late teens, and in the summer of 2018, I came out as a trans man. In 2019, on my 19th birthday, I got top surgery, and in June of 2019, I started HRT.

Even when I was first starting testosterone and recovering from top surgery, I had an inkling that I was not a man, but, because of societal expectations and, to be honest, medical necessity, I moved forward with my decision to get a full double mastectomy. In 2019, I had barely seen mainstream binary trans people in the media, and I knew no one in my close personal circles who was trans. Because of this, I did not know that medical transition could be a shade of gray. Medical insurance would cover my procedure, but only with two letters from licensed psychologists who wrote about me as a trans man, and only with approval for a complete removal of chest tissue.

I would like to clarify here: I do not regret getting top surgery. When I got it, it saved my life. Before my surgery, I didn't see myself as a person worthy of time and respect. I saw myself as sub-human, to be honest, and while top surgery didn't solve all of my problems, I do believe it kept me alive when I needed it most. Trans healthcare is life-saving healthcare, and even though the surgery I got wasn’t right for me, that does not mean that it is not a crucial step for so many people.

Anyone who knows me now knows that I am not someone who sees myself as a binary trans person. A few years after top surgery and the start of HRT, I came out as nonbinary and began to go by Levin. In the summer of 2021, just six months after coming out as nonbinary, I moved to Santa Barbara to pursue a degree in Feminist Studies from UC Santa Barbara, my dream school. While I had started as a Political Science major, I switched not even a month into my first quarter, because I knew that my true passions lay in studying sex, gender, race, class, and other intersecting sociocultural identities.

Now, while I learned a lot about gender in the classroom, I learned so much more outside of it. My friends and chosen family have guided me through my own gender and sexuality journey, and I cannot thank them enough for how much I learned from each of them. From becoming a part of the Santa Barbara drag scene, to working at Santa Barbara's only queer bar, to being a part of the Resource Center for Sexual and Gender Diversity at UCSB and attending Trans Empowerment Hours, to becoming a board member of the Santa Barbara Transgender Advocacy Network, there have ALWAYS been people who are a part of my journey that I can turn to to discuss gender identity and expression.

I recently moved across the country from Santa Barbara, CA, to Boston, MA, to pursue a career in case management for individuals with disabilities. This move is yet another step in my gender-expansive journey. I realized that, while Santa Barbara was the perfect place to explore my gender, Boston is a better place to hone my experience. Gender is transversive, for me; when I feel stagnant, either internally or physically or both, I know it is time for a change. And this time, with and before this move geographically, I knew it was time for a physical change, too.

​My Ask

​I am scheduled to receive breast augmentation surgery at San Francisco's Gender Confirmation Center, with surgeon Dr. Alexander Facque, on September 19th, 2025. This surgery has been a long time coming. I have had increasing amounts of dysphoria over the past few years, and have been feeling ashamed for having those feelings. I have questioned whether I am actually trans, whether I can claim such a label when I am, on paper, reversing a gender affirming surgery. But I do not see it as such. I consider myself to be in a period of re-transition: I am finding a body that feels more like me than ever, and in order for my body to align with how I feel internally, I need to undergo a secondary top surgery– a revision, if you will. I see this surgery not as a way to reverse my transness, but to enhance it. I am genderfluid, genderqueer, nonbinary, trans, in all meanings of the word.

Surgery, though, is expensive, and unlike when I received my original top surgery, insurance is not covering this one, nor do I have the support of my family to fall back on. They are not even aware that I am receiving this surgery, as I have had to put increasing amounts of distance from them as I have become more true to myself. The cost for my top surgery alone is $15,000. I couldn’t be more excited, but the cost of not only surgery but travel and lodging is overwhelming to say the least. My goal, therefore, is $18,000. I am saving as much money as possible, both to replenish my savings from being unemployed for nearly nine months and then moving across the country, and to save for this life-changing (in a good way!) surgery. I will, of course, be contributing as much of my own money as possible, but anything helps. I am so, so grateful to be surrounded by so many incredible members of my chosen family, and I cannot say thank you enough.

Despite what the current political climate says, gender-affirming care is life-saving care. Trans people are not the threat to democracy that certain politicians claim us to be. We are simply people, building bodies and communities for ourselves in a world that would rather see us dead than happy. A few months ago, I was talking to a Santa Barbara drag queen who had moved to Portland and was back visiting for the weekend. I told her that I was no longer interested in things that didn’t bring me joy, that I was choosing to cultivate joy and center it in my life. This surgery does exactly that. If you have the means, I am so grateful for your donation. And if you do not have money to donate, that is okay– just the fact that you have read my story (and potentially shared it with those around you) is an honor and a privilege. Please know that my life is altered just by knowing you, even if it is tangentially.