Bodies

When I was little, any time I got an insect bite or stubbed my toe, I had to ask my mom, “Am I going to die? If I was going to die from this, I’d already be dead — right?” I also had a 30-minute prayer that I needed to say at each meal or else everyone would be poisoned and die. And corners. I had to check all of them before I went to bed.

BCBs are loud and proud and refuse to go down easy. And quietly. We have things to say. We have things to teach. We still have life to live. And damn it, we are and we will. With one breast. With no breasts. With reconstruction surgery.

I, like far too many women in this country and the world, have had a wide variety of experiences involving sexual harassment.

Prior to his operation, B took photographs of his unmutilated body. It was way before the era of the selfie, but he wanted to document himself while he was still “whole.” Post-surgery, the affected side of his chest would bear a long scar. The nipple was gone. He was not interested in taking steps to reconstruct it.

Prior to his operation, B took photographs of his unmutilated body. It was way before the era of the selfie, but he wanted to document himself while he was still “whole.” Post-surgery, the affected side of his chest would bear a long scar. The nipple was gone. He was not interested in taking steps to reconstruct it.

Let this be known as the Great Mammogram Gotcha Moment of 2015. Not for the antis, mind you. For us feminists. All we need to explain this little hiccup in the Planned Parenthood defense is a little basic knowledge of medicine.

That’s the thing about being a breast cancer survivor — it’s always there: it never goes away. The scars, the fear that lurks in the back of your mind like a boogeyman. You’re going along nicely, living your merry life, and you’re fine, until you’re not.

That’s the thing about being a breast cancer survivor — it’s always there: it never goes away. The scars, the fear that lurks in the back of your mind like a boogeyman. You’re going along nicely, living your merry life, and you’re fine, until you’re not.