[Maybe you saw the above SCAR Project image when it went viral on FB in October of 2012. The post accompanying the picture asked: “How Many Likes? For this courageous breast cancer survivor?” Maybe you even liked it? Maybe you didn’t know it was one of David Jay’s SCAR Project Portraits? (The post didn’t mention him, The SCAR Project, or the woman’s name.) Maybe you wondered if the girl in that picture knew she got millions of Likes? (She did know, btw.) But maybe mostly, you wondered about the young woman in the photo—the 1000 words behind her picture. Today’s special guest post is by the courageous breast cancer survivor in that picture, which has been Liked and Shared and Commented on, around the world and back. If you happen to be catch one of the upcoming SCAR Project Exhibitions in Toronto or Los Angeles, maybe you’ll catch the girl in the picture, standing next to hers.]
Guest Post by SCAR girl Candice M.
Dog food, dog food… which should I get? Too many choices… Ring tone called Island Breeze sounds off in my pocket. I can’t even hear it, but because it’s called Island Breeze, I should have been transported to an Island. This is just my opinion; though my opinions never seems to take hold in ways I want them to. Technology. Hearing people always ask me if I set my phone on vibrate. I’m surprised they don’t know the answer to that so I say, “Yes of course then I put it right… down… “. At least I make them laugh. I see it’s a local number so I know it’s not a telemarketing call. Shoot, I hope it’s not the doctor. It’s too soon, he’s supposed to call, like… never. I fiddle with my hearing aid, am I gonna hear him? Oh I hear him alright. Well not the first time but I didn’t have to. He wasn’t going to call if there was nothing wrong. Silly me I thought he was going to make an appointment and meet me in the office like on T.V. Instead, he tells me over the phone, point-blank. Was that a 9 millimeter? Nope, AK-47. And there’s no dramatic fade in or fade out or music, not the whole town running in to see what was the matter, nothing just a big fat row of dog food at the pet store. Oh, Kirstie Alley if we could just go to a place where Nobody Knows My Name…
I scream. I can’t even remember what day that was. It was my daughter’s birthday, I think, or the day before. Oh fun. I also got pulled over, screaming all the way home, illegally calling my mother at the same time. Big black cop doesn’t know what to do with a screaming white girl in the middle of the ghetto but he does manage to let me know I ran a stop sign. I’m sure he loved my response, “I have CANCER what am I going to do??!?” Dumb look on his face…
“well… m’am you still can’t run a stop sign.”
He fiddles, he’s nervous, he doesn’t know what to do. Awkwardly, he slowly backs away from my crazy screaming and crying, and decided a ticket wasn’t what I needed at that time. Good for him, two people survived that day, not just one. I got what I call two chemo tickets in the following two months anyways. My head wasn’t on the road. How could I? My head was… am I going to be alive, will my child have a mother? Its amazing that I survived not just cancer but also my own driving. Yes, unfortunately for you, I still have my license. Yes it’s safe to get in the car with me, just not on days I’m diagnosed with cancer or in a chemo fog, ha!
I have angels watching over the car so don’t worry, come join me for a ride because this is one helluva rollercoaster ride. Stage III. Really?! Ok, I acted surprised, I tried not to be surprised, but I really was surprised anyways. Damned thing was supposed to be a CYST, not cancer!
The part of me that wasn’t suprised that it was so late-staged was because I had been trying to find out what was wrong with Ms. Leftyboobie since I was a kid.
Yes, I said that right, a kid… I told a doctor when I was 17 my breast didn’t feel right. Age 21, I told a different doctor that I was “leaking” fluids. Age 26, I went for a fibrocystic breast study, and no one saw a problem with Ms. Leftyboobie, really?! Then Ms. Lefty B decided to let herself loose at age 29, which led to a 6cm cancer retrieval at age 30 because I guess I was “old enough”. I don’t think I finished blowing out the candles.
Young ladies, you can and you are old enough for breast cancer, no matter what anyone tells you. I found a doctor who saved my life. He said, “I know you aren’t due for a check-up but I’m gonna check ya anyways.” I roll my eyes, oh puhleeeeze. He gets to second base, faster than anyone I have ever met… well, mostly everyone. *wink* I let him find it, I think, go, have at it, thinking he won’t do anything anways, I don’t say a word… instead, he freaks out and says, “You gotta get that checked!” I just glance at him, and with an air of boredom, I drawl almost a whine and ask for the millionth time, “Please, I want a biopsyyyyy.” He says, “Ok.” I say, “Did you just say ok?!” Doth mine hearing aid and lip reading fail me?” (I didn’t actually say that last part). He hands me the slip, I run off to a whirlwind of appointments. It’s just in the nick of time…
Because, here I am five years later celebrating my life and watching my daughter blossom into this gorgeous young lady (and no I’m not one of those parents that just says my kid is the cutest because my kid actually IS the cutest. I have evidence to back that up AND testimonials*.) I have to say going through all that and losing my breasts was devastating. But it taught me how to love myself better, to see that I’m still beautiful. I can prove it via The Scar Project. The photo you see is the very first time I showed ANYONE my scars. I had a little birdie, my breastie bestie, Jolene, who whispered to me that I could do it, and she stood by my side.
I miss her, and losing her still hurts me something good, but I would never trade meeting, loving, and knowing my Pink sisters, for anything.
I prefer to think that Jolene was reborn into this really amazing place with tons of loving people, cheese and crackers galore. I’ve met some really incredible people on this journey. It made my little deaf-brokenboobie life fuller, and worth surviving for. It opened up my eyes to a whole world that many people don’t understand or choose to see. I actually had people say to me, “I wish I had cancer then everyone would pay attention to me” and equally as shocking comments/statments. Also, I didn’t really get attention, instead, I was told by people, to get over it. Regardless, I would never want to feel so sick or so scared again, for any kind of attention.
Breast cancer isn’t a pink ribbon. It’s losing yourself, becoming so sick that your family gets shattered to pieces with you, rediscovering yourself, finding your words, discovering that hair does grow back even if curly and unruly, it does grow back. I ask myself every day could I do that again? I watch my friends doing it. I don’t know. It’s really that hard, so while you are waving a pink ribbon, instead go and really get involved. I had little to no support. Real pink ribbon support should mean help with cleaning, making meals, taking the dogs out, or helping me get out of bed on the days I was too weak to pull myself up, not just a piece of fabric or a specific color or logo. Donating money is nice, make sure you know where it’s going and what they are doing with it. But know what’s really fantastic? Food for my kid, and clean clothes too. Even more wonderful?? Someone to sit next to me for a little while so I’m not so scared.
I look over at my daughter who is sitting and reading quietly, yeah I definitely could do it again. She’s my reason for everything. I shove soy and vegatables at her. Thankfully, she welcomes the healthy food jumble that I foist upon her. She’s a beautiful soul, and a fighter too, but this is one fight I do not want her to face, and through The Scar Project, I am hoping to make that difference for her, not just to be my own voice, but to be hers too. I’m not who I was before, but I am still me (just waaaay better and sexier), and this is my new normal. I am not breast cancer and breast cancer doesn’t define me. Oh and one more thing, reconstruction is a choice. This whole “I love boobies” campaign isn’t the right path. Can’t we all say, “I love women”? That’s what we are trying to save here, right? I will end this with one of my favorite quotes from one of my scar project sisters, Keiko:
“I used to be sad about the scars that run across my chest; now I feel they are a roadmap on my journey of survival.”
*For the record, Candice is in no way exaggerating the ridiculous cuteness of her daughter. I met Sky at a SCAR LA fundraiser and fell immediately head over heels over this enchanting child. Holy crap, we all did. It couldn’t. be helped. She’s that stinking cute.
THE SCAR PROJECT ANNOUNCES TORONTO PREMIERE OF THE INTERNATIONAL EXHIBITION—MARCH 28-APRIL 6, 2014
March 3, 2014—The SCAR Project, the groundbreaking photographic exhibition created by fashion photographer David Jay is set to premiere March 28 at Edward Day Gallery, 952 Queen St West, Toronto Ontario.
The SCAR Project is a series of large-scale portraits of young breast cancer survivors. On the surface an awareness raising campaign for young women, The SCAR Project’s deeper message is one of humanity. Ultimately, The SCAR Project is not about breast cancer, but the human condition itself; the images transcend the disease, illuminating the scars that unite us all.
Sponsored by Rethink Breast Cancer, the world-renowned exhibition will open this year’s Breast Fest on March 28, 2014. This marks the first time the exhibition will be shown to Canadian audiences. The gallery will be open for public viewing March 28-April 6 (closed Monday). Gallery hours are Tuesday-Saturday, 10:00 am – 6:00 pm, Sunday by appointment. Admission is free.
A screening of the EMMY Award winning documentary about The SCAR Project: Baring It All will be shown at the Bloor Hotdocs Cinema at 3:30pm on Sunday, March 30. Tickets are $10. A Q&A session with David Jay will follow the screening. www.breastfest.ca.
For more information please contact :
Jennifer Rashwan, Touchwood PR 416.593.0777 x 205, email@example.com
Alma Parvizian, Touchwood PR 416.593.0777 x 202, firstname.lastname@example.org
For more information on Rethink Breast Cancer visit www.rethinkbreastcancer.com
[Today’s guest post is written by Debi Memmolo, breast cancer survivor and friend of David Jay, in response to the most recent removal of SCAR images from Facebook.]
Just after my 38th birthday, I had the life-changing pleasure of attending an exhibit of The SCAR Project, a series of large-scale portraits of young women confronting breast cancer, shot by fashion photographer David Jay. I saw myself in each of these women. I saw, in real life, the ravages of this disease. I saw beauty. I walked away with an invaluable gift: I do not need breasts to be beautiful.
A few months later, I too had my breasts removed to fight the cancer that was growing inside me. Yes, I had them “reconstructed,” but what remains on my chest are two, uneven mounds covered in taut skin and some scars. As it turns out, this now gives me the legal right to walk down the streets of New York City bare chested. (Nudity, it turns out, is defined as exposure of a woman’s nipple.) Well, aren’t I lucky?
This week Facebook removed the SCAR Project’s photographs, posted to honor one of the SCAR girls in light of her recent passing, February 23. Hundreds of followers of The SCAR Project wrote beautiful messages upon seeing these photographs (while they were still up) and hearing the news of her death. And then, without warning (or apparently a deep thought), Facebook took them all down and locked David Jay out of his own page. Why? Because nipples are improper nudity on Facebook and a hint of one of Vanessa’s nipples was in one of the images.
With some protest, some (not all) of the images were replaced. David was still denied access. I may have left this alone, but then I learned this was not the first time Facebook acted this way. In fact, it has happened several times. In mid-2013, there was a media frenzy regarding Facebook’s policies and its impact on The SCAR Project and young women with breast cancer. Facebook reversed itself then too. Nothing really changed though.
It is, perhaps, not fair to hold Facebook accountable for this action. I do not think that its policies are aimed at maligning the goodwill served by such things as The SCAR Project. This is clearly a response to something larger in our society – the female nipple and its tie to sexuality.
Innumerable people have asked me why I have not decided to have nipple reconstruction. (The “reconstruction” is performed either by twisting and stitching skin or getting a tattoo of a nipple). I am truly dumbfounded by this question. My nipples served their purpose: I had the immense fortune of nursing two children with them. Now, this disease has taken my fertility and the utility of a nipple.
And I do not need nipples anymore. While nursing, my real nipples were exposed in some of the finest restaurants, from coast to coast. They also were out on airplanes, on the side of the road and, in moving vehicles. No one seemed aroused or stimulated by the sight of a woman using her breast for its intended purpose, feeding her young.
The right to breast feed in public has seen its day in the media, but those battles, too, did not really get to the point. Why are we so fixated on the female nipple? And why is it so different from that of the male?
We are living in modern times, with modern sensibilities. This is not the Victorian Era. Why are we still struggling to acknowledge that exposure of a female nipple can, perhaps, be no less pornographic than the exposure of a man’s? Why are we still objectifying body parts?
A prosthetic nipple will make me no more or less a woman than I already am. Despite my SCARs [Surviving Cancer.] [Absolute Reality.] I am, after all, still a woman.
[Debi Memmolo lives in NYC and spends her days raising her two young children. Prior to battling cancer and being a full-time mom, Debi was an elementary school teacher, technology marketer and certified public accountant. She thinks a lot about writing but rarely writes.]