Treatment should include self-acceptance

When I was diagnosed with stage III breast cancer in September
2003, my world fell apart. Faced with mastectomy, chemotherapy and
radiation, my existence blurred unrecognizable. Attempting to find
some control in this confusing situation, I read everything about
breast cancer that came my way.

I went from studying communications at UCLA to researching
treatments, survival rates and dietary approaches to increase my
chances of recovery. I read about the latest research and new
approaches. Most of all I read stories written by other women
living with breast cancer.

Many of these stories left me unfulfilled. They often ended on a
positive note where the woman managed to feel beautiful despite the
dramatic changes cancer treatment had left on her body: that she
was still worthy of sexual attention, and that she could radiate
beauty even though her body was scarred.

These stories are valid and authentic. But they lack a
perspective I can identify with and be inspired by ““ one
where a woman can embrace her new self with breast cancer,
appreciate her body after surgery, and see her experience as
enriching in her personal development, not as an obstacle marring
her beauty.

Once this thought process began, I realized how predominant the
idealized beauty standard in our culture is. After my diagnosis, I
was encouraged to try out a wig before I lost my hair. I was
invited to learn how to apply makeup and I got lipstick from a
makeup manufacturer.

And everything was served in a cascade of pink, pink, pink. I am
not denying that looking healthy can make you feel better; I
believe it is very important. But after my diagnosis, I need ways
to cope with my life that deal with aspects of my identity which
are not linked to my appearance. I want to learn how to cope with
mood swings from the treatment, how to manage the forgetfulness and
the difficulty concentrating caused by chemo-brain, and how to love
my tired body with the scars ““ not in spite of them. I need
stories from women who find new ways of living instead of trying to
fit into old ones.

Throughout my experience with breast cancer, my family and
friends are by my side with support, strength and tissues. One
friend came with me to chemotherapy treatments and sat by my side
as chemicals were infused into my body. As I try to make it to the
other side of my treatments, she encourages me to stay in school,
reminding me that though my body is fragile, I can still challenge
my mind.

My last quarter at UCLA is coming to an end and my final project
will be an art exhibit organized by this friend and myself. It is
an exhibit that treats the issues that we continuously face ““
concerns about self and body image, the obsession with breasts in
our culture and the process of healing.

“Transitions” is a collection of artwork by seven
socially conscious female artists. Their visual media differ, but
they all express the powerful message of claiming what women should
rightfully own ““ the right to define their bodies themselves.
Four of the seven artists have dealt, or are still dealing with,
breast cancer. They remind us that breast cancer is an epidemic in
our times, affecting not only the one in eight women contracting
the disease, but also the woman’s partner, family and
friends.

For me, organizing “Transitions” is an important
part in my journey toward self-acceptance. It is an exploration of
alternative visions of body image that I often find missing,
drowned out by the pervasive messages of consumerism and beauty
fixation. But whether it is healing from cancer, healing from body
hatred or healing from prejudice, “Transitions” offers
an opportunity for everyone to reflect on the notion of body image
and its definition in America today. Come to the exhibit and then
answer this question for yourself ““ what do you see?

Persson is a communication studies student.