“I won’t be able to make it, I have too much going on at work. It will be too much to go away for a long weekend in the midst of everything I have going on.” That’s what I told myself. 

A few weeks after I was selected as a Baddie Ambassador for For the Breast of Us (an organization which supports minority women affected by Breast Cancer), I discovered I’d have the opportunity to meet other ambassadors during a retreat in Orlando, Florida. At that time, the retreat was only a few weeks away, but it seemed so far from anything I’d be able to experience given the workload I was carrying. But at some point, I decided that the workload would have to wait.

May 13, I headed to sunny Florida, never imagining that the woman who boarded that flight would forever be changed. 

In Orlando, more than 20 women gathered at a large vacation home. These women traveled from different places, were different shades, and had different backgrounds. Still, there was one common thread between them: they had all been directly impacted by a breast cancer diagnosis. Their journeys were their own, but the manner by which they communicated their experiences was an undeniably shared language they all spoke and understood so fluently. In that space, there was no need to attempt to explain the unexplainable when a smile, hug, grimace, or cry would easily suffice. Upon arrival, we received a jersey with a number bearing the year we were diagnosed with breast cancer. Just like any good team, we now had another common thread between us: a Breast Cancer Baddie uniform.

Though we were present in the flesh, we realized there were many others who had moved on — the ancestors. We acknowledged them. We celebrated them and thanked them for their strength, for their shields, for the memories that we hold so dear. We created flowers to represent their journeys and draped the garland in our space so their energy would be with us during our time of fellowship.

After just one day with these women, it felt as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. I was stripped of the armor I seemed to wear daily. The armor of the strong mother and daughter, the wife who was rediscovering her sexuality, the strong black woman at work, even the model breast cancer thriver. Amongst that group of amazing women, I got to shed these layers, bare my soul, and eventually bare parts of my body that others often take to represent the extent of our journeys.

During the most magical photoshoot, Marissa and Jasmine (FTBOU Founders), set out to show the world how women of color thrive through breast cancer. In front of the camera, we were empowered to represent the image of breast cancer many don’t get to see. 

We supported each other. We hyped each other up. We sang. We laughed. We cried. 

Small groups of melanin-fleshed Baddies gave everything they had in that studio, with no doubt that the photo would soon grace the cover of a prestigious magazine, showing the world we, too, thrive in the face of adversity. 

Our time together was indeed too short. No sooner had I shed my layers, it seemed it was time to step out of our bubble and re-enter the world. As I packed my bags to fly back home to my family, I thought about all the memories we’d made that weekend — all of the sisters I’d gained. I had once imagined FTBOU to be an organization where I would give back, someplace I could continue to support women diagnosed with breast cancer. I never thought about how the organization would support me. 

After hugs and kisses, we promised we’d keep in touch and meet up over the months ahead. So many times, I’ve made similar promises after making fast friends. Somehow, this time seems very different. I can’t wait to be in their presence again. I am both humbled and empowered by their stories. I am inspired by their strength. They are me and I am them. 

I am my sisters’ keeper.

Thank you to the founders of For the Breast of Us, Jasmine and Marissa. The best is yet to come!

♥️ T

I’m a movement by myself but I’m a force when we’re together…

— Neyo