For those of you who don’t know me, my name is Amethyst and I’m a 22 year old Afro-Latina trans woman and disabled survivor of abuse with extensive trauma who is in need of financial assistance. I’ve been supporting my own transition for the past year i.e. medical expenses, clothes, hair, etc. while also battling with financial/job instability, dysphoria, depression, overtly violent street harassment, discrimination, racism all without any financial support from my overtly religious trans-misogynistic/abusive family. Transitioning in itself is extremely costly and for me, it quickly became damaging to my mental health because of how my poverty combined with my womanhood and transness has made me much more susceptible to experiencing violence. This summer alone, I’ve been followed and sexually harassed by men onto the subway, on my way to and from seeing clients, while on my way home or going about my business, attacked after rejecting sexual advances and the list really could go on.. all of this has added to me isolating myself from the outside world as much as I can.
At the present moment, my only consistent job has cut my hours significantly and I can’t afford to continue transitioning at this point which has been negatively impacting my dysphoria and harming my overall well-being. The money that I’m asking for is to help with food, hormones, a portion of my rent which I will be missing at the end of the month and make-up which I’m completely out of and need to survive in my day to day life. Any amount given would be extremely helpful! Thanks!
omg thank you so much to everyone whose donated or reblogged to my fundraiser im honestly like shocked that i already have as much as i do!!
A poem written by Amethyst:
Becoming
My identity is the abandoned house
neighbors point
to tell frightening stories about.
I know which ones they believe.
My identity is a black joke on Father’s Day
a ghetto butterfly in the suburbs
a porn studio
is not a window
I stopped looking at
others in order to understand
myself.
I am a bearded woman
a mid life crisis
a body bag
a place to dispose all of my dead weight.
I am an unkept bedroom.
I know where everything is.
I am trying to be as fluid as word
play.
I want my character to be
rearranged and made better.
I am a poet.
I write to make love to my existence.
I am an old folks home.
There are war stories in my make up.
Sometimes I grow tired of fighting.
I am an antediluvian breath who
can hardly hold themself in.
I spend so much time thinking about
my construct
I forget to thank ancestors who
drink heartache like wine.
I am twenty,
and I am trying to understand my place in
this world so I document the person
my sadness makes me.
When I believed I did not have a right
to exist,
I stopped writing about what I
couldn’t change.
I wasn’t the person I wanted to be
so I evolved
became someone who wasn’t as
near as then.
I am unlearning all of the selves
who have been created for me.
I am trying to be my own god.
I don’t want someone else to take credit for saving me.—
Please consider donating, especially if you’re a white person with money to spare.
Followers, my angel friend amethyst is not even halfway to her goal, if you can donate to her survival please do, otherwise please reblog until she gets what she needs
Help Amethyst’s Transition
Published
girlhell 