On rebirth.
A year after surgery. On chosen family, learning to accept help, and finally making it Home Safe.
Originally shared on Instagram · 23 April 2026
Today is the one-year anniversary of what cissexual society considers to be the ‘end’ of my transition.
It has been a year that has pushed me to my breaking point on so many occasions. It was a year where the people who I have chosen to invest my love into and open my soul to showed up for me in ways that are unfathomably selfless. I chose life over pride. Self-love over suicide.
This surgery was last on my list, not because I was fearful or worried that I would regret it, but because I refused to let my transition be defined by the configuration of my sex. My transition is radiant joy. My transition is motherhood and mentorship. My transition is resilience and grace.
And so, I ignored the pain it caused me for years. It prevented me from exploring, let alone enjoying, intimacy with others. It made me constantly fearful in public: that I would be deemed a threat, harassed, chased out of bathrooms, attacked. Meanwhile, my greatest fear was making others feel unsafe in their private spaces. If you’re trapped in a body holding a gun, you’ll do anything to not pull the trigger.
That fear is gone now. I experienced what I can only describe as rebirth, including the trauma that comes with it. I had to relearn how my body functions mechanically and hormonally. I had to learn to ask for help, and how to accept it. I’m learning what this means for my safety once again. And I am so privileged to have been able to access this when our healthcare is under attack.
But I finally made it Home Safe.
