Why?

Sisters, come a little closer, bend down, lend me your ear. I want to share my heart with you, while you open yours. Let's heal each other's wounds. Let’s rediscover our why.

Losing my breasts

In 2013 I was wounded, frustrated, saddened, and overwhelmed. I had lost my breast friend, my left one and later my acquaintance, the right. We’re talking about breasts here. My left breast was my best friend while my right breast was a mere acquaintance. However, losing both of them was sheer devastation.

After losing them, I wanted to make a difference. I wanted people to look beyond the pink ribbons, the races, the t-shirts. I wanted people to see me, my pain, my scars, my journey, my shortcomings, and my trip-ups.

Baring my scars

So I dared to do something that had not been done before. I stood in front of a camera, and I took off my clothes faster than a woman having a hot flash.

I stood there, and I lost myself in the moment while reflecting on my breast cancer journey. I cried a million tears inside the core of my soul. Never allowing one tear to betray me.

I wrapped up the photoshoot, did an interview, and decided that I would make history. And that I did, I became the first and only person in history to bare their double mastectomy scars on the cover of a magazine. I was so happy that I was brave enough to push past the pink and allow people to see the person, the pain, and the purpose.

While many were proud, others chastised me, ridiculed me, and body-shamed me. They accused me of being an attention seeker, while others accused me of doing breastless porn.

My heart was shredded into a zillion little pieces. I didn't count the cost of being a trailblazer; I should have because my desire to make a difference almost left me emotionally bankrupt.

MBC journey and advocacy

In 2013 people weren't ready to see bold, glaring, breast surgery scars, but now in 2021, it has almost become the norm. I find myself continually re-sharing the beginning of my journey so that I can remember my why.

Why do I care? Why am I an advocate? Why does the pain feel so severe now - more than it did when I was first diagnosed? Why is it that the scars which once gave me freedom now feel like bondage? What is your why?

Maybe our why is never etched in stone, maybe it’s forever evolving. If that’s the case, that’s fine, just don’t ever lose your why.