Donation protected
As I step towards the virtual ledge, ready to jump, I hold my breath as I lunge myself to the bits and bytes of the internet. I am coming out to the world, to strangers, to family, to friends, to anyone who is willing to read something longer than 120 characters.
My story began in a world that resembled the futuristic world of Dune. A place where dreams could come true. It was a magical place and I was lucky to call it home.. Until I realized I didn’t exactly know where ‘home’ was or where I ‘belonged’. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve met so many people in the first half of my life while I was in desert land. I was loved, appreciated and treasured by many. But as I grew older, hit puberty, experienced new things, I also went through scrutiny from people who didn’t know me. The Wesley who knew little of how cruel the world can sometimes be.
In 2011, my senior year in high school, I remember being called in to the principal’s office. I was told that I was suspended for the rest of the school year, unable to attend classes and graduation rehearsal. I was accused of promoting a queer lifestyle. I never had the chance to stand my ground, nor had the vocabulary to question why being me was so wrong. I felt the world crash around me. Isolated, alone, an outsider. There were no words to describe what I was feeling and I felt like I was to blame.
Fast forward a couple more years, I left the place I called home. I pushed through all the pain to find myself. During my time in art school, I slowly collected the fragments of my previous life, in return, discovering more about my gender identity in the process. I recognized that desert land was very much a part of who I am and I brought it across the world with me. I created manifestations of my identity as I re-experienced them in my new home, Canada. I welcomed all the challenges, hoping they would teach me the great things about being free. Unfortunately, life sometimes submerges you in more pain and loss. Since then, my life has been on autopilot while having my guard up and waiting… Asking myself questions like, “when will it be my turn to be in the driver’s seat?”
It took a long time, time being one of the things you can never get back. I recently just gained my PR status and now have access to healthcare (hooray!). All of a sudden, things were going 240km/hr, hitting me like a freight train in all directions. I can finally take up more space without being afraid, without hiding in plain sight and without having to hold my breath under viscous fear that I’ll never be able to be free.
After much thought, I decided to call a good friend of mine. We both spoke about our previous life in desert land and how when we were teenagers, we spoke about transitioning together. A decade later, I’m coming out as transgender to everyone reading this. Hah, I feel myself apologizing that I’ve waited this long. But I know I shouldn’t be apologetic about coming out and telling you my story. If you’ve made it this far, thank you. I appreciate you.
As I move forward, my next step is to undergo surgery that would reconstruct my chest to a male form - commonly referred to as top surgery. Ever since I could remember, I have worn a chest binder. This garment compresses my chest to give a flat appearance. However, continuously binding has become more difficult as I move around in this world. Undergoing surgery will relive the physical and mental pressure off of my chest.
I am asking for help with funding this life changing surgery. If you can only offer love, support and kind words, I’ll gladly accept. If you are able to make a donation, I’d deeply appreciate the investment in my freedom. If you are willing to share my post, I’d appreciate that immensely. I’ve been able to put some money aside over the last few years but wish to get over my fear and shame of asking others for the help I need rather than shouldering this burden alone.
It’s been a long winding and sometimes bumpy road to this version of myself. With your help, the end of this road would near and I’d be able to take a first, real, deep breath in my own skin.
With much love and gratitude,
Wesley (He/Him, They/Them)
My story began in a world that resembled the futuristic world of Dune. A place where dreams could come true. It was a magical place and I was lucky to call it home.. Until I realized I didn’t exactly know where ‘home’ was or where I ‘belonged’. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve met so many people in the first half of my life while I was in desert land. I was loved, appreciated and treasured by many. But as I grew older, hit puberty, experienced new things, I also went through scrutiny from people who didn’t know me. The Wesley who knew little of how cruel the world can sometimes be.
In 2011, my senior year in high school, I remember being called in to the principal’s office. I was told that I was suspended for the rest of the school year, unable to attend classes and graduation rehearsal. I was accused of promoting a queer lifestyle. I never had the chance to stand my ground, nor had the vocabulary to question why being me was so wrong. I felt the world crash around me. Isolated, alone, an outsider. There were no words to describe what I was feeling and I felt like I was to blame.
Fast forward a couple more years, I left the place I called home. I pushed through all the pain to find myself. During my time in art school, I slowly collected the fragments of my previous life, in return, discovering more about my gender identity in the process. I recognized that desert land was very much a part of who I am and I brought it across the world with me. I created manifestations of my identity as I re-experienced them in my new home, Canada. I welcomed all the challenges, hoping they would teach me the great things about being free. Unfortunately, life sometimes submerges you in more pain and loss. Since then, my life has been on autopilot while having my guard up and waiting… Asking myself questions like, “when will it be my turn to be in the driver’s seat?”
It took a long time, time being one of the things you can never get back. I recently just gained my PR status and now have access to healthcare (hooray!). All of a sudden, things were going 240km/hr, hitting me like a freight train in all directions. I can finally take up more space without being afraid, without hiding in plain sight and without having to hold my breath under viscous fear that I’ll never be able to be free.
After much thought, I decided to call a good friend of mine. We both spoke about our previous life in desert land and how when we were teenagers, we spoke about transitioning together. A decade later, I’m coming out as transgender to everyone reading this. Hah, I feel myself apologizing that I’ve waited this long. But I know I shouldn’t be apologetic about coming out and telling you my story. If you’ve made it this far, thank you. I appreciate you.
As I move forward, my next step is to undergo surgery that would reconstruct my chest to a male form - commonly referred to as top surgery. Ever since I could remember, I have worn a chest binder. This garment compresses my chest to give a flat appearance. However, continuously binding has become more difficult as I move around in this world. Undergoing surgery will relive the physical and mental pressure off of my chest.
I am asking for help with funding this life changing surgery. If you can only offer love, support and kind words, I’ll gladly accept. If you are able to make a donation, I’d deeply appreciate the investment in my freedom. If you are willing to share my post, I’d appreciate that immensely. I’ve been able to put some money aside over the last few years but wish to get over my fear and shame of asking others for the help I need rather than shouldering this burden alone.
It’s been a long winding and sometimes bumpy road to this version of myself. With your help, the end of this road would near and I’d be able to take a first, real, deep breath in my own skin.
With much love and gratitude,
Wesley (He/Him, They/Them)
Organizer
Wesley Peñalosa
Organizer
Toronto, ON