For my friend ♥️

Please read her story,

I've been binding my chest since I was 11 years old.

I remember being strapped into my first bra; I remember the anger. Why didn't my friends have to wear one? (Bearing in mind, most of my friends were boys at that age--another colorful flag flapping in the breeze of hindsight.) It was one more thing that made me feel restricted and small. Who would've thought I'd then grow up owning sports bras almost exclusively, inadvertently binding my chest well into adulthood?

For over 20 years, I had no vocabulary for how I felt--desperately uncomfortable in a body that didn't feel like mine. My personality and sense of self-worth had already been overtaken and bent under the reign of adults embroiled in narcissism; I didn't want to lose what little power I had left over myself by hating my body, too. I'd already done everything I could to become invisible anyway. Looking in the mirror and hearing a proverbial record scratch meant that soon, I just didn't want to be perceived at all--by the gaze of others and my own.

So it goes.

My name is Rosa.

For 35 years, I've had the audacity of being a queer, Deaf, neurodivergent human. In Texas.

As you might imagine, I didn't encounter the vocabulary for this brighter side of life until I was in college. And even then, I lived in denial a long time, .

The word "nonbinary" didn't even really sink in until sometime just before the world shut down.

But finally having the terminology and the knowledge I wasn't alone was one of the most important things I clung to at a time when nobody had anybody, during a time in which my days were largely spent completely alone.

Thanks to some incredible people (like Christina, my adopted mama bear; Dr. Dulin, the incredible kind surgeon at the American Institue for Plastic Surgery; my sister; my friends who have been cheering me on since Day 1), I finally started to realize that I, too, am allowed to be exactly who I am, without needing anyone's permission. And that I never had to do that alone.

Admittedly though, I'm terrified of posting this because it means I'm doing something I've never before: I'm asking for real, serious help.

And now, in light of certain recent political events, I get the sense I'm running out of time to pursue the options I'd once hoped would always be there.

I know it's the holidays (timing isn't one of my strong suits) so please don't feel pressured to donate. I know life has been damn hard, especially lately. But if you could share this, that would mean the world and more to me.

Love you.

-Rosa