Patriot,

I had to wear bandages on my chest every day for years.

The skin grafts from my surgery failed two years after the procedure. I was 17.

The doctors who performed that surgery have not once reached out to help me manage the complications.

They called it care.

I was 15 years old when a surgeon at a Kaiser facility removed my breasts.

I was a child.

I didn’t understand what breastfeeding was. I didn’t understand what it meant to lose that part of my future. I was 15. No one at that facility stopped to ask if I might change my mind.

I did change my mind.

But by then, it was too late...

Let me tell you how I got to that surgical table.

I was 12 years old when I wrote a letter and left it on the dining room table for my parents to find.

I told them I thought I was supposed to be their son.

I was confused. I was struggling. I had started puberty early and I was terrified of growing into a woman. I didn’t feel like I belonged with other girls. I had older brothers. I didn’t fit. I didn’t know why.

I just knew something hurt.

My parents were shocked. They wanted to wait. They wanted me to explore without intervention.

So they did what good parents do.

They brought me to a doctor.

That was the moment everything went wrong.

The gender specialist looked at my parents and asked them one question:

“Would you rather have a dead daughter or a living transgender son?”

I wasn’t suicidal. I was a happy child who struggled because she was different.

But my parents didn’t know that. They were told that if I wasn’t affirmed and put on a medical path immediately, I would be at risk of suicide.

The gender clinic lied.

My parents were forced to make a decision under duress. And because they loved me — because they were terrified of losing me — and they thought they could trust the medical “experts.”

At 13, I had my first testosterone injection.

I will likely have medical complications for the rest of my life... my fertility is unknown. 

At 15, a surgeon at a Kaiser facility removed my breasts.

A few months later, I started to question everything.

A year after that, I knew the truth.

I was a girl. I had always been a girl. I was a girl who hated puberty and had no one to tell her that was okay.

At 16 — after the surgery — I became suicidal.

The very nightmare the doctors told my parents they were preventing?

They almost caused it themselves.

For a long time, I thought no one was going to do anything about this.

I thought these cases got buried. Settled in secret. Sealed from the public.

I thought the doctors walked.

I was wrong.

The Center for American Liberty took my case. They didn’t tell me it was too hard. They didn’t tell me juries wouldn’t understand. They told me we were going to fight.

And they have been fighting ever since.

In September 2025, a California appeals court ruled that Kaiser could not force my case into a secret arbitration room. Kaiser had tried everything to keep me out of open court.

The court said no.

Then, on January 30, 2026 — something historic happened.

The first detransitioner medical malpractice lawsuit in American history reached a jury.

Six ordinary people heard the facts.

They held the doctors accountable.

That verdict changed everything. It proved that when juries see what was actually done to these kids, they apply common sense and the law.

My trial is next.

April 5, 2027. Kaiser Foundation Hospitals. A California courtroom.

For the first time, the doctors who signed off on what was done to me will sit in front of a jury.

Every dollar gets us one step closer to that courtroom.

I am not the only one.

There are hundreds of us. Young men and women who were told the same things I was told. Who trusted the same system I trusted. Who are living with the same consequences.

Most of them have never seen the inside of a courtroom.

Because the hospitals have a playbook: delay, arbitrate, settle, seal.

No jury. No verdict. No accountability.

Kaiser quietly stopped performing gender surgeries on patients under 19 in August 2025. They didn’t announce a change of heart. They cited “significant risks being created for health systems.”

Meaning: lawsuits.

Meaning: people like you, who decided this fight was worth funding.

That playbook only works if we run out of resources before they do.

We will not run out. Not with you in this fight.

I don't know you personally.

But I know that if you’ve read this far, you understand what was taken from me.

And I know that what you do next matters more than I can say.

You can be the reason I walk into that courtroom with the best legal team in the country.

You can be the reason the doctor who signed off on what was done to me finally faces a jury.

You can be the reason the next girl — the one who is confused right now, the one who is scared, the one who is being told there is only one way forward — has someone standing in the way.

I used to think no one was going to fight for me.

I was wrong about that.

You are proving me wrong right now.

Thank you for being the reason this fight keeps going.

Chloe Cole

On behalf of the Center for American Liberty

P.S. April 5, 2027. That’s my trial date. I’ve been waiting for this for years — and so have a lot of other people who were hurt the way I was hurt. Kaiser has done everything in its power to keep me out of that courtroom. The courts said no. Now I need to walk in on April 5 with the strongest legal team possible. If you can chip in $100 right now, it goes straight to funding the fight. I need to get to that courtroom — and I need you with me.

The Center for American Liberty is a 501(c)(3) nonprofit charitable organization fighting against growing anti-free speech and anti-civil liberties trends. Your gift is tax-deductible.

Center for American Liberty
PO Box 200942
Pittsburgh, PA 15251-0942