Nullo Q&A

One year post-op!

Welcome to this candid Q&A about my experience as a nullo! This document represents my journey one year after undergoing nullification surgery on August 9, 2024. I've created this resource to share insights, challenges, and personal reflections that might help others considering or curious about this path.

Throughout this Q&A, I'll be addressing common questions about what it means to be a nullo, the decision-making process, finding medical care, fundraising for surgery, and life after recovery. My goal is to provide the kind of comprehensive information I wished had been available when I started my journey.

While my experience is personal and unique to me, I hope sharing it openly contributes to greater understanding and visibility for the nullo community. Whether you're exploring options for your own gender journey, supporting someone who is, or simply here to learn, thank you for taking the time to read my story.

Q: Who is a nullo?

A: A nullo is someone who undergoes genital nullification surgery to remove their external genitalia and redirect the urethra to a position similar to that found in female anatomy. For an AMAB (assigned male at birth) person like myself, this involves penectomy (removal of the penis), orchiectomy (removal of the testicles), scrotectomy (removal of the scrotal sac), and a urethral reroute. For AFAB (assigned female at birth) individuals, nullification procedures may include vaginectomy (removal of the vaginal canal), vulvectomy (partial or full removal of external genitalia), and sometimes clitorectomy for a completely smooth result.

I opted for nerve preservation during my nullification surgery, which has significantly enhanced my post-operative experience. With this approach, my surgeon carefully preserved and relocated the sensate tissue from my glans, "burying" it under the skin in the lower mons area just above my urethra. This created something similar to a "hidden clitoris" that allows me to maintain erogenous sensation while achieving the smooth external appearance I desired.

Not everyone chooses nerve preservation, however. Some nullos deliberately opt to have the penile nerve bundle completely removed. This deeply personal decision depends on individual goals and preferences. Without nerve preservation, a person will likely experience a loss of erogenous sensation in that area, which some individuals actually prefer as part of their gender affirmation journey.

The benefits of nerve preservation include continued ability to experience sexual pleasure and orgasm through the buried nerve endings. As I'll explain in my post-surgery experience, I have seven major erogenous zones that allow me to experience pleasure, many relying on these carefully preserved nerve pathways.

For those considering nullification, this is an important option to discuss with your surgeon. The Crane Center, where I had my procedure done, offers a patient-centered approach that each person to align the outcome with their unique needs. I became a nullo on August 9, 2024, which included constructing a clitoris with the remains of my glans buried beneath the skin. Now, one year post-op, I'm living comfortably with my new configuration and have adjusted well to this aspect of my life!

Q: Why did you become a nullo?

A: I've struggled with gender dysphoria related to my genitalia my entire life, dating back to early childhood. My earliest memories include a profound sense of disconnection from my anatomy that I couldn't articulate but felt intensely. In kindergarten, I drew stick figures of myself with exaggerated genitals because they felt so prominently uncomfortable to me—which actually got my parents in trouble with the school administrators who didn't understand what was happening. This early incident was just the first manifestation of what would become a lifelong journey toward understanding my gender identity.

After coming out as gay at 17 and beginning to explore my sexuality, I discovered that I was always a bottom in sexual encounters. This wasn't simply a preference but felt like an essential expression of my authentic self. By age 37, I could count on just two hands the number of times I'd topped someone, and each of those experiences reinforced my understanding that something fundamental wasn't aligned with my body configuration.

Basic bodily functions like urination and ejaculation were particularly difficult for me before surgery; I simply didn't enjoy how either felt and often experienced significant distress during these routine activities. The physical sensations combined with the psychological awareness of my anatomy created a persistent state of discomfort that affected me throughout each day.

Above all, I hated the daily experience of living with male genitalia—the constant presence, the physical sensations, the way clothing fit, and the psychological burden of carrying parts that felt foreign to my self-conception. Now, one year post-op, I can confidently say that becoming a nullo was absolutely the right decision for me. The relief I experience every day is immeasurable, like finally putting down a heavy weight I'd been carrying my entire life without realizing how much it was affecting me until it was gone.

Q: What is the first step to getting bottom surgery?

A: I have been on testosterone hormone replacement therapy (HRT) since February 2021, which marked the initial step in my clinical treatment for gender dysphoria through my primary care provider at Howard Brown Health in Chicago. This specialized LGBTQ+ health center was instrumental in guiding my medical transition with comprehensive care tailored to my specific needs. In the United States healthcare system, obtaining insurance coverage for any type of bottom surgery typically involves meeting specific prerequisites, including formal letters of support from two different qualified mental health professionals. Many insurance plans require a minimum of 12 consecutive months on hormone therapy, though it's important to note that not all insurance companies require HRT if you plan to continue presenting as your assigned gender at birth after surgery. These requirements are designed to ensure patients are psychologically prepared for permanent surgical interventions before making irreversible decisions about their bodies.

Prior to initiating the surgical consultation process at the end of May 2024, I hadn't been actively engaged with any therapist for over two years. This initially concerned me, as I worried about potential delays in securing the necessary documentation. However, I was pleasantly surprised by how efficiently I was able to navigate this requirement. Through research and community recommendations, I managed to secure both of my required letters of support in less than 48 hours via telehealth appointments with two exceptionally supportive mental health providers who specialized in transgender care. These professionals understood the urgency of my situation and recognized that my years of living authentically had already demonstrated my readiness for this procedure. Thanks to their prompt assistance and my thorough preparation with relevant medical documentation, it ultimately took me less than a week to become fully prequalified for my nullification surgery—a process I had anticipated might take months.

Q: What are the most important lessons you have learned from the process so far?

1. Advocate for yourself fearlessly and refuse to take no for an answer. Remember that in a medical system that may not fully understand your needs, persistent self-advocacy becomes your most powerful tool for navigating obstacles and securing appropriate care. When faced with resistance or misunderstanding, remain steadfast in your conviction and continue pursuing alternative pathways until you find the right healthcare professionals who respect your autonomy and gender journey.

2. Connect early and often with other nullos and trans people. There's no better guide for this incredible journey than someone who has already walked this path. Every nullo knows exactly what it feels like to stand at the beginning of this road. These connections provide not just practical advice about surgeons and procedures, but also emotional validation and reassurance during moments of doubt or anxiety. The shared experiences and collective wisdom of the nullo community can illuminate aspects of the journey that medical literature simply doesn't address.

3. Learn to ask for help repeatedly, setting pride aside. No one can say yes if you tell yourself no first. When I began this process, I had no money for surgery and knew zero nullos in real life. I created a GoFundMe and shared my hopes and dreams on X. Thousands of new followers and dollars later, X literally saved my life. Though fundraising is emotionally draining, it can absolutely succeed. Vulnerability becomes strength when you allow others to participate in your transformation journey. Each time you share your story and needs, you're not just seeking assistance—you're building community and creating opportunities for allies to meaningfully support gender-affirming care.

Q: How did you choose between testosterone and estrogen HRT? How did you choose between vaginoplasty and nulloplasty?

I don't know if anyone has told you this before, but gender is a choose-your-own-adventure novel, not two sets of fixed choices. The beauty of gender identity and body expression is that it exists on a spectrum with countless possible configurations, allowing each individual to craft their unique path. You can be on testosterone or estrogen and have a vagina, a penis, or no genitals at all—these elements can be mixed and matched according to what feels most authentic to your personal experience.

I chose testosterone HRT because I enjoy my overall body type; I've never felt any interest in having breasts, for example. Being assigned male at birth (AMAB), it made sense to work with the hormone my body was already naturally producing in low amounts. This decision aligned perfectly with my desire to maintain certain masculine physical characteristics while addressing my genital dysphoria separately.

Choosing between vaginoplasty and nulloplasty was a more difficult decision that required extensive research and deep personal reflection. I spent countless hours researching both procedures, consulting with medical professionals, and connecting with others who had undergone these surgeries. The significant differences in pre-surgical preparation and post-surgical care ultimately tipped the scales for me after months of careful deliberation.

Vaginoplasty requires laser hair removal on the penis and scrotum before surgery, which is a lengthy, painful, and expensive process spanning several months. Afterward, the aftercare is intensive with a relatively higher risk of complications including strictures, granulation tissue, and potential infections. You must flush and dilate your new vagina three times daily for 90 days, followed by ongoing dilation for the rest of your life to maintain depth and function—a significant lifetime commitment that requires consistent dedication.

Ultimately, vaginoplasty didn't align as closely with my lived experience of gender or my personal needs and preferences. After thorough consideration of all factors, nulloplasty emerged as the clear choice for my situation. Nullo surgery requires no pre-surgical hair removal, and the aftercare is more straightforward with lower complication risks than vaginoplasty. The simplicity of the healing process and the clean aesthetic outcome perfectly matched what I had envisioned for my body throughout my life.

Q: How did you find your surgeon?

Finding a surgeon was challenging, to say the least. Now that I'm one year post-op (as of August 9, 2025), I can share my experience with the benefit of hindsight. Anecdotally, the U.S. health system was indeed the "easiest" place to become a nullo, though "easiest" is definitely a relative term given the numerous obstacles I encountered throughout my journey. I was living in Southeast Wisconsin when I started my journey, and nulloplasty wasn't available there at all—not a single surgeon in the state offered the procedure. Even in Chicago, the closest major metropolitan area with more comprehensive healthcare options, wait times for gender-affirming care were absolutely absurd, stretching well beyond what my timeline could accommodate.

I had employer-sponsored healthcare through my husband's employer, which provided me with a solid foundation to begin this process. Before embarking on the often overwhelming task of searching for qualified surgeons, I made what turned out to be one of my smartest decisions: I called my insurance company directly with a very specific and crucial question: "Does my health insurance cover gender reassignment surgeries according to the World Professional Association for Transgender Health (WPATH) Standards of Care?" This preliminary research proved invaluable in understanding my coverage parameters before investing time in consultations.

This WPATH coverage meant the procedure would be covered if I met all the established standards: a minimum of 12 consecutive months on hormone replacement therapy (with a supporting letter documenting this from my hormone provider) plus comprehensive letters from two different qualified mental health therapy providers attesting to my readiness for surgery. It's important to note that while my insurance required 12 months of HRT, many insurance carriers do not require HRT before surgery if you continue to present as your gender assigned at birth. After a lengthy conversation with my insurance representative, I received confirmation that they did indeed cover these procedures, which gave me the green light to proceed with finding a surgeon who could perform my surgery.

Throughout this process, I faced an uphill battle against complete medical ignorance—almost no one I contacted understood what "nullo," "nulloplasty," or "nullification" meant in a clinical context. The blank stares and confused responses became frustratingly predictable. Most healthcare providers, including experienced doctors who should have been better informed, held outdated binary views of gender-affirming surgery, recognizing only vaginoplasty or phalloplasty as legitimate options for transgender individuals. The concept of nullification as a valid gender-affirming procedure seemed entirely foreign to many medical professionals, creating additional barriers in an already complex healthcare landscape.

In Chicago, my primary care doctor referred me to a specialized gender clinic at a major university hospital that supposedly offered comprehensive transgender healthcare services. Just trying to reach this acclaimed facility was an absolute nightmare—I waited patiently on hold for an entire hour during my first attempt, only for the call to drop automatically when their system timed out. This frustrating experience repeated itself when I tried again the following day—another full hour wasted followed by another automated disconnection. Twice!

On my third determined attempt to contact this gender clinic, I finally reached an actual human being after approximately 30 minutes of mind-numbing hold music. When I finally got through, the receptionist delivered disappointing news: she informed me (in early June 2024) that the earliest available consultation appointment wasn't until late January 2025—more than seven months away. Even worse, she couldn't even confirm whether their surgeon offered the specific procedure I needed, making the prospect of waiting half a year for an appointment that might lead nowhere particularly unappealing.

My timing constraints were quite specific and inflexible due to my academic commitments. I'd been out of the traditional workforce since March 2020 when the pandemic began, focusing instead on advancing my education. By August 2022, I'd successfully completed my Finance MBA and was about two-thirds of the way through earning an M.S. in Data Analytics, representing years of dedicated study and considerable financial investment.

I knew with absolute certainty that post-graduation, I needed to be actively working and earning an income, not recovering from major surgery with unpredictable healing timelines. My graduate program proved completely unhelpful and unsympathetic when I approached them about the possibility of medical leave to accommodate my surgical needs, offering no flexibility whatsoever despite my academic standing and the medical necessity of my procedure.

In summer 2024, I was enrolled in two consecutive sets of intensive 7-week graduate analytics courses that demanded significant time and mental energy. Until late June, I was simultaneously juggling two challenging graduate-level courses while trying to arrange a nulloplasty—a medical procedure that few healthcare providers even recognized. The cognitive and emotional burden of managing these parallel tracks was immense, requiring me to constantly switch between complex academic material and equally complex medical research and scheduling.

I'll be forever grateful to @versasspunk for providing me with invaluable advice and emotional support during this overwhelming period. They convinced me to prioritize my health and well-being by dropping my remaining summer classes instead of attempting to finish them early through an accelerated timeline—a decision that would have been incredibly harmful to my mental health and probably impossible to achieve. Looking back, attempting to complete those courses while preparing for surgery would have been nothing short of a suicide mission given the intensive preparation requirements.

The strategic decision to drop my second set of summer courses opened up a critical window of opportunity, giving me all of July and early August 2024 to focus exclusively on surgery and the initial recovery period. When evaluating my academic calendar, my realistic options were limited to August, December (during winter break), or postponing until the following summer. Having already secured prequalification with good insurance coverage, I wasn't willing to delay this life-changing procedure any longer than absolutely necessary, especially given the uncertainty of future insurance coverage.

Approximately three years before my surgery, a perceptive friend who understood my struggles sent me the Crane Center's (CC) website link—which remains to this day the best resource I've ever bookmarked in my browser: https://cranects.com. This resource was the only place I found that talked about nullo surgery at all. While it wasn't truly comprehensive, having a little information was better than nothing. It provided at least some basic details about nullification that I couldn't find elsewhere, addressing a few questions about the procedure when most medical resources didn't even acknowledge it existed.

After my thoroughly frustrating and discouraging experience with Chicago healthcare providers, I decided to contact the Crane Center directly. The difference in responsiveness was immediate and striking—I reached a friendly, knowledgeable, and genuinely helpful staff member in less than a minute without navigating a labyrinth of automated menus or enduring endless hold times. They listened attentively to my needs and efficiently scheduled a comprehensive telehealth consultation for just days later, demonstrating an understanding of the urgency and importance of gender-affirming care.

The day after my productive consultation—occurring just the week after celebrating my 37th birthday—I received confirmation of my surgery date scheduled for August 9, 2024, at St. Francis Memorial Hospital in San Francisco. The Crane Center team worked diligently to accommodate my complex academic schedule constraints, providing me with the perfect date that allowed sufficient time for both pre-operative preparation and post-operative recovery before returning to my educational commitments. Their efficiency and understanding of my situation stood in stark contrast to my previous experiences with healthcare providers.

Now, one year later, I can confidently and wholeheartedly say that choosing the Crane Center was absolutely the right decision for my nullification journey. They provided truly exceptional, patient-centered care throughout the entire process, from initial consultation through surgery and post-operative follow-up. Their world-class surgeons demonstrated unparalleled expertise in performing this specialized procedure, while their skilled insurance team successfully navigated the complex bureaucracy to convince my U.S. insurance company to cover "out-of-network" transgender surgical care through in-network exceptions—a feat that many had told me would be impossible. Beyond their work with American insurance providers, I've learned they also successfully coordinate with Canadian provincial insurance systems, making their services accessible to a broader range of patients seeking gender-affirming care.

Q: How does it feel being a nullo one year after surgery?

A: Looking back on this journey a year later, I can say the anticipation was worth it. That first moment waking up after surgery on August 9, 2024 was exactly as transformative as I'd hoped—it truly felt like my man parts had never existed.

Successfully completing this procedure within my tight nine-week graduate school window was like coordinating a passenger exchange at the International Space Station. Now, a year later, I'm grateful I pushed through those complex logistics.

The anxiety I felt before surgery was completely valid. Spending the entire month of August 2024 in San Francisco for pre-op, surgery, and three weeks of post-op care was one of the most challenging experiences of my life, but also the most rewarding.

Recovery was difficult, especially during those first few weeks in a hotel without a kitchen, requiring 24/7 care. But now that I'm fully healed, I can confidently say that every moment of discomfort was worth it.

I remain eternally grateful to everyone who contributed to my GoFundMe last year. Your support covered my flights to San Francisco ($500), my 28-night hotel stay ($3,600), and my out-of-pocket medical costs ($6,850). I simply couldn't have done this without community support.

So yes, yeeting my nuts into the void was the best decision I've ever made. One year post-op, I'm living comfortably in my authentic body, free from the gender dysphoria that plagued me for 37 years. The journey was challenging, but the destination has been everything I hoped for and more.

Q: Have you experienced any complications or needed revisions since your surgery?

A: Yes, I've encountered a minor complication. About six months post-op, I noticed a small epithelial cyst developing on the left side of my glans. After consulting with my surgical team, we determined that a revision procedure would be necessary to address this issue.

This kind of complication isn't uncommon with genital surgeries. Epithelial cysts can form when skin cells become trapped beneath the surface during the healing process. While not dangerous, they can be uncomfortable and potentially grow larger over time.

I've scheduled my revision surgery for January 26th, 2026. The procedure should be relatively straightforward compared to my initial surgery, but it's still another step in this journey that I hadn't anticipated. In the meantime, I have a rude cyst on my clit. After the procedure my surgeon expects a full recovery with minimal downtime.

If there's one thing I've learned through this process, it's that patience is essential. Healing isn't always linear, and sometimes our bodies respond in unexpected ways. I'm grateful to have access to continued care and a medical team that's responsive to my needs. I’m not excited about the need to continue fundraising for this second procedure, but the direct financial expenses are much lower with only needing to spend a week in San Francisco, instead of a month.

Q: How does it feel to be fetishized? How has this affected your sex life?

A: My primary goal from surgery is to feel comfortable in my own skin, even when doing nothing. After 37 years, gender dysphoria became exhausting. Being fetishized isn't new to me—my heavily tattooed body and my role as an exhibitionist FF bottom in Chicago and on X prepared me for that attention.

I have Edward Munch's "The Scream" tattooed on my left arm and Vincent Van Gogh's "Starry Night" on my right arm. The only untouched areas are my unfinished headpiece, face, ass, the back of my legs, and the bottoms of my feet.

My tattoos have won trophies at Milwaukee and Chicago conventions for over 12 years. This experience gave me plenty of practice making irreversible body modifications that others find fascinating and even fetishize.

Sex is already enjoyable for me—a decade in chastity cages taught me to orgasm using my hole and nipples without penile stimulation. Now that I've fully recovered from surgery, I can confirm that embracing my sexuality as a nullo has been incredibly fulfilling! 😈 If you would like to see the proof of this, please follow me on X/Bsky @borgpup and subscribe to my JFF. 😎🎬

Q: What does it feel like seeing and handling your husband's dick now that you don't have one of your own? Is the contrast a turn on? Do you ever envy the pleasure he gets from his?

A: Dicks are fun to play with on other people, but I sincerely don't miss having one permanently attached to my body. There's nothing to envy because I'm not missing out on anything. I'm actually more of a top as a nullo than I ever was before surgery. Strap-ons are amazing. When the base presses against my buried glans and the area where my dick used to be, my brain perceives the dildo as MY dick—without any of the anxiety or dysphoric baggage.

Q: So how do you cum now?

A: I've received this question frequently, but haven't fully explained the answer until now!

As a post-op nullo with nerve preservation, I experience pleasure through eight major erogenous zones/methods:

1. Upper Crotch - base nerve where the root of my penis used to be

2. Lower Crotch - the bundled buried remains of my glans

3. Outer Hole - width play

4. Prostate, which sits very close to my buried glans (see item 2)

5. 2nd sphincter

6. Nipples (counting as one zone)

7. Pissgasms - after a period of play, the release of taking a long piss feels orgasmic

8. Topping with a strap-on - my brain perceives the strap-on as my own, in a way that's more satisfying than my original equipment ever was. You can choose any size based on your mood. Welcome to your thriving top era. 😈

One of the most fascinating aspects of becoming a nullo is experiencing the nerves wake up after surgery. Initially, it feels like being electrocuted in the most sensitive part of your body. This sensation marks the beginning of healing and reinnervation as the relocated nerves adapt to their new positions.

Perhaps the most surprising part of my post-surgery experience is how I truly don't miss my penis at all. A year later, I feel absolutely no anxiety or sense of loss. It's remarkable how natural my current configuration feels—as if my body has always been this way. While in San Francisco for surgery, my best purchase from Mr. S Leather was a battery-powered air pump, wide nipple cylinders, and a rosebud pump. Removing my penis has opened up countless other ways to experience pleasure. There's really nothing to miss when your authentic self finally feels so right.

Q: Did your partner always know you wanted be nullo? If not, how did/do they feel about it? I worry that I won't find a partner.

A: I first came out as non-binary trans in 2019. My first husband wasn't supportive, which was one of many reasons I ended the relationship and moved out in 2020. @bayougrizzly and I met around that time. I knew my body would change, but I didn't have specific surgery plans. From the very beginning, he fully supported my transition process.

You'd be amazed at the wide spectrum of people who are genuinely attracted to nullos, eunuchs & men with vaginas and vulvas. Even if some people reject you, they don't deserve the honor of being intimate with you or being part of your life anyway. Good riddance.

On gay dating apps like Scruff and Grindr, it's actually nice when ignorant people filter themselves out. I'm upfront about being a nullo in my profiles, which means the people who message me are already interested in my body as it is. I have zero issues getting laid - if anything, my inbox is busier now than before surgery! As a polyamorous person, I've also found that my authentic self has attracted more meaningful connections. I currently have more relationships and dating partners than I did a year ago, with people who appreciate me for who I truly am.

Q: Congratz on your nullification! How do you feel post surgery? Was it everything you imagined?

It was the hardest thing I've ever done - harder than getting sober even. With that said, in retrospect, I would do it over again in a heartbeat. I crowdfunded my surgery from $0 and it mildly restored some lost faith in the goodness of ordinary people.

The biggest challenge post-op wasn't the surgery itself, but coming back to Wisconsin and having to navigate an entirely new set of healthcare issues in a community where many of the resources I need simply don't exist. In Wisconsin, I'm the only nullo I know of—"Nullville, WI - Population: 1." This means that every provider I encounter requires extensive education from me about my body and needs.

It's been incredibly frustrating at times. Some providers have been receptive and eager to learn, while others have been dismissive or uncomfortable. For example, finding specialists to address my post-op cyst has been particularly challenging, as most local providers have never treated a patient with my anatomy before. For my upcoming revision surgery in 2026, I'll need to fly back to San Francisco since there's not a single surgeon within a 500-mile radius who has the expertise to work on a nullo patient.

The lack of local resources means I've had to create them myself. That's why I built bottomsurgery.info and started online community groups—the support I needed didn't exist, so I made it. While this has been rewarding, it's also exhausting to constantly be both patient and educator.

Despite these challenges, I wouldn't trade this for anything. Every morning when I wake up and see my body as it should be, I feel a profound sense of rightness that makes all the difficulties worthwhile. Living authentically in the body that truly represents me brings a joy that outshines every obstacle I've faced. The freedom I feel now is indescribable—it's like finally being able to breathe after holding my breath for 37 years. No amount of medical bureaucracy or small-town isolation can diminish the triumph of finally living in my truth!

Q: What's the worst thing about your nullo transition?

Great question: (1) Healing physically and mentally from bottom surgery took far longer than expected, and even now, nearly a year post-surgery, I still experience ongoing changes. The process isn't linear, which can be extremely challenging even with ideal support.

(2) The financial impact of medical bills continues to be significant.

(3) My data analytics graduate program forced me to choose between my health and education. Taking necessary recovery time after surgery ultimately compromised my ability to complete my degree program.

(4) Healthcare in Wisconsin remains a Kafkaesque nightmare for non-binary trans individuals. The vast majority of providers are helpful and genuinely want to be supportive, but I've had to be very specific and persistent in communicating my needs. In February 2025, I learned suddenly that I would have to switch to a provider in Wisconsin. This was extremely stressful, but I have some care and it's better than none.

For my upcoming revision surgery in 2026, I'll need to return to San Francisco since there's not a single surgeon within 500 miles who has expertise with nullo patients. Every healthcare provider I encounter in Wisconsin requires extensive education about my body and needs, with some being receptive while others remain uncomfortable or dismissive.

(5) Living as "Nullville, WI - Population: 1" continues to present unique challenges. Having to constantly serve as both patient and educator is rewarding but exhausting, especially when dealing with specialized needs like my post-op cyst, where finding knowledgeable providers locally has been particularly difficult.

Closing Thoughts

In the end, this journey has been about authenticity, self-discovery, and finding joy in living as my true self. While the path hasn't always been smooth, each challenge has only reinforced my certainty that becoming a nullo was the right choice for me. The physical transformation was just one part of a much deeper personal evolution.

I'm incredibly grateful for the community that has formed around sharing these experiences. What started as my personal journey has connected me with people from all walks of life who are seeking their own versions of authenticity. Whether you're considering a similar path or simply curious about different expressions of gender and identity, I hope my story offers some insight and perhaps a bit of courage.

Remember that your body is yours alone, and you deserve to feel at home in it. Whatever that means for you—whether it involves surgery, hormones, or simply embracing who you are without physical changes—your journey is valid. As I continue to navigate life as a nullo, I remain committed to sharing my experiences honestly and supporting others who might be considering similar paths. We're all just trying to find our way to wholeness, whatever form that may take.

~ Axl