Support KB's Journey to Gender-Affirming Surgery!

I’m freeing the nipple, for good!

Hi, my name is KB, my pronouns are they/she, and I'm raising funds to support medical expenses after top surgery and skin removal surgery.

This is an incredibly vulnerable post for me. I also know that this will be a lifesaving procedure and as the future of gender-affirming care becomes more and more uncertain, it feels like time is of the essence to share my story.

It took me 36 years to accept that I was non-binary. To believe I had worth no matter how or which gender I presented. To feel trans joy radiate so big around me that I thought, “Damn, maybe there is a little tiny piece of that for me.” To take this big step towards aligning my mind with my body after all this time and know it would be okay.

Ever since I was a little kid, people have been telling me important things about my body. I was constantly told which parts were good and which parts were bad. Which parts were valuable and which parts were unworthy. Which parts portrayed me as a smart, capable, virtuous woman and which parts portrayed me as a dumb, needy, and shameful woman. Which parts I should share with the world and which parts I should keep hidden.

I quickly accepted that my body didn’t belong to me and so I disconnected and discarded it. My chest was a special area of dysphoria because as it grew so did the positive attention and praise. My boobs became a literally huge part of my identity. They gave me power and value in a world that had otherwise rejected most other parts of me.

Looking back, it’s easy to see why I couldn’t accept myself as I really wanted to be. What kind of crazy person hates the thing that makes them valuable? Why would I willingly relinquish the little power I had?!

So I carried on for years stacking trauma after trauma. I weaved myself into communities that aligned with my values all the while holding so much shame and hate for myself. I hated my mind; I hated my body, and I did a lot to try and destroy both.

And then one day after multiple suicide attempts, countless health issues, and a dangerously convenient decade in the bar industry, everything changed.

I had my last drink on March 17th, 2024.

It was a baby beer and two shots of Campari.

I will never forget it.

I spent a lifetime masking and expertly functioning as an alcoholic, battling depression and an eating disorder. I am now walking steadily through recovery and proudly into my first year as a sober babe. Despite the countless horrors happening in the world, I still have some hope for the future.

To say that sobriety changed my life is a massive understatement. I still mourn so many of the things that I have lost and while I know that grief will never fully fade, I now understand what they mean when they say two things can be true at once. I take tremendous pride in what I've worked my ass off to gain: the certainty of who I want to be as I show up authentically for the first time. To walk in the world with a body that belongs to me—that feels safe and comfortable and strong.

So here I am. Terrified, excited, unwavering, and asking for donations on the internet. #YOLO as they say!

The reality is that we are not meant to do life without community and it's okay to ask for help. Despite working one million jobs and saving as much as I feasibly could, there is still a large portion of the bill that insurance doesn’t cover. Not to mention being out of commission for 4-6 weeks and losing wages while I heal. To have some financial peace of mind would be an immense help on this healing journey. I am so ready to step into this new life confetti guns-a-blazing!

So, from my whole heart…

Thank you for reading this.

Thank you for donating if that is doable.

Thank you for sharing if donating is not possible.

Thank you for being a part of my journey.

With love,

-Killer B