She called me out about a pink ribbon. My response wasn't safe for work.
From the Sunday Self-Care Chronicles | 8/16/26
"Where is your pink ribbon?!" she yelled from across the room. Her voice sounded bubbly, almost cheery, like this was cute.
I felt the words in my chest and heard them coming out of my mouth before my brain could even think about what I actually wanted to say:
"I. Fucking. Hate. Pink." I yelled back.
The event was a women's networking evening and it was my turn to introduce myself and ask for some support or guidance on an issue that was bothering me.
I was already having a hard day, my mood slightly testy and high strung, and I was looking forward to the chance to be in community with other women entrepreneurs and small business owners to talk about the challenges we all face. I plannedto talk about feeling isolated in business, operating as the Chief Everything Officer of my hands-on practice and online expansion, and ask for some support around social media marketing (something I still struggle with to this day).
But all of that went sideways because as soon as I said my name, briefly explained my work with the breast cancer community, and referenced the fact that I was also a survivor, someone thought that what they knew about the subject was worth interrupting and speaking over me in some misguided show of solidarity.
The shock and confusion on her face confirmed what I already knew; she wasn't trying to be rude or demeaning. She was simply doing what most people do when they hear the words breast cancer. She was taking those words and wrapping them up with everything she knew about what they mean.
A pretty pink ribbon.
The heat in my cheeks along with my pounding heart also confirmed what I already knew, but I shouldn't expect others to know, that pink ribbons have nothing to do with what it's really like to live with a breast cancer experience.
I immediately felt the heat of regret and mumbled an apology, trying to salvage my time in the spotlight, but at that point the tears pricking the backs of my eyes and the tingling of embarrassment in my fingers and toes were distracting enough that I don't really remember if anyone else offered up further words of substance.
I felt bad for snapping at her (I honestly still do) and yet, she had stumbled directly into one of the biggest triggers of my diagnosis and, I don't think I was wrong to feel the way I did.
You see, for me sweet friend, when breast cancer came knocking, pink ribbons weren't the emblem of a traumatic gift that was going to show me how strong I was. I already knew that and didn't need another reason to prove it.
They weren't a symbol of gratitude I wanted to wear on a shirt, or see on my morning coffee mug, or stick to my car's rear windshield. I had lots to be grateful for and didn't need to explain it to the world.
And they weren't the invitation to rush a sorority who called themselves the worst club with the best members. I was already a part of it because as a BRCA1+ woman, I had joined this club the day I was born, as a legacy.
I walked in the early Komen walks at 13 years old, next to my mom in her pink survivor shirt and chemo-shorn hair, pushing my baby sister in a stroller, holding a sign in honor of my grandmother, who survived her pink ribbon diagnosis but years later succumbed to the teal ribbon (ovarian cancer), another loop of satin tied to our genetic legacy.
For me the pink ribbon, despite all of the good its legendary campaign has done, feels more like an Instagram filter that shows the world what they want to see, instead of who I really am.
And I know I am not alone.
Every week I welcome women into my office who are caught in some version of trying to find themselves again after a breast cancer diagnosis. Some of them are supposed to be settling into their new normal as a "survivor" while others are still living with the disease and always will be, at least until they truly find a cure.
And most of them actually tell me they feel the same way I do.
They've given away the pink ribbon mugs and t-shirts that say "save the tatas" or "stronger than cancer," feeling guiltybecause they are grateful for the thought but not for the actual gift.
They avoid most support websites or groups, because everything is Barbie pink and if they didn't dislike the color pink before, they've come to feel a visceral bristling at breast cancer stealing any joy it may hold by associating it with such major trauma.
Now don't get me wrong. Despite my own feelings around a lot of breast cancer culture, I fully support everyone's individual right to live and express themselves in their unique experience.
If you love being a part of the "pink sisterhood" or refer to your cancer friends as "breasties" good on you, I've got your back and won't shame you for that!
The problem comes when this association is no longer voluntary.
The extreme branding of breast cancer and its very singular aesthetic means that as soon as someone finds out that I have had this diagnosis, they tell themselves a story about me. A story they've been told and shown over and over in the media, a story that they are so indoctrinated into, they never bother to find out if it's true or not for me.
Almost no one has ever asked me, "what is this like for you?" "What does it mean to YOU to be a breast cancer survivor?" "What words do you like to use to describe your experience?"
Instead they fall back on the common tongue of warrior, fighter, survivor, thriver, winner, loser, and sometimes, pink sister, because that's how we are represented. Strong smiling avatars with bald heads and pink boxing gloves.
And it makes me want to punch someone, gloves off.
This is why Identity is one of the six fundamentals of active healing.
Because love it or leave it, you are the one who should be deciding how this disease and its aftermath are shared with the world, not anyone else.
Most people would find it shocking that despite my work as Your Breast Cancer Self-Care Specialist, in my daily life out and about in the world, there is nothing about me that would hint what I've been through. How my body is changed under my clothes. What I've seen on my table. The ever increasing number of people I know who have died.
And that is by choice.
Personally, aside from my work which I am very loud and proud about, I find my breast cancer diagnosis to be the least interesting thing about me.
Here are some other things that, in my opinion, are way cooler and more relevant to who I am and how I show up in this world:
I'm the daughter of a pilot and flight attendant who was TERRIFIED to fly until my early 40's and I've since flown to the other side of the world and gone paragliding in the Alps, TWICE.
I'm probably ADHD which means it takes me at least twice to successfully leave the house (if I'm lucky) and I can turn almost anything you say into quoting a movie line or humming a pop song.
If I give out money or food to someone on the street, I always look them in the eye, ask them their name, and tell them mine, because acknowledging their humanity will last them longer than the physical item I give.
And of course I could go on and on and on. And YOU may not find these things particularly interesting about me but the people who love me do and day to day, breast cancer is the last thing that comes up in conversation with my family and friends.
Anyway, my point is that it's not so much about pink ribbons or battle language, it's about YOU getting to decide who you are when it comes to breast cancer.
Do you wear it for the world to see or is it a private reminder whenever you stare at yourself in the mirror?
Do you own the language that people use for you or do you wish you were brave enough to ask for other words?
Has this experience changed you for the better or are you struggling to reconcile who you knew yourself to be with the person you are now?
This is Identity work and I truly believe that you must at least consider how breast cancer has touched your self-image in order to truly heal from its impacts.
Inside As You Are Now: A Breast Cancer Self-Care Program for Real Life, the Identity work happens through:
the Six Fundamentals Reflection Wheel
body-based practices that help you separate who you are from what happened to your body
and guided reflection that meets you exactly where you are - not where anyone else thinks you should be.
It's not about forcing you to feel strong, grateful, or warrior-like. It's about giving you the space to name yourself, in your own words, in your own time.
This is why the program is designed without the usual pink ribbons or ra-ra survivorship stance.
It's a space where you can do the inner work without others assigning or overshadowing your experience with theirs.
It's a space that is about YOU, not just your disease and its challenges.
Founding member enrollment is open now through August 31st at $495, and only a limited number of spots remain. Every founding member gets lifetime access to the program content, monthly group calls, and a 45-minute 1:1 session with me. The next Welcome Call is this Thursday, August 20th at 11:30am.
Everything you need to know to decide if it's the right fit for you is in this document. No pressure to join. Just read it to see if it fits your body and your life.
AS YOU ARE NOW PROGRAM OVERVIEW
As for me, I've come a long way since that networking event about five years ago.
I have actively worked on my relationship with the color pink, so much so that I even wore a beautiful blush pink dress to a wedding last night and felt gorgeous in it!
And, I'm sure enough in my own skin now that if someone gifts me a breast cancer key chain or calls me their pink sister, I can smile and either let it go, or if they are someone I really want to connect with, gently explain how I like to tell my story - more like a kaleidoscope of ever changing colors that contains multitudes.
And since we're reclaiming our own palettes: what's your favorite color? Hit reply and tell me. I read every one.
P.S. There is one fundamentals left in this series and it might be the most oddly complicated one. See you next Sunday.
P.P.S. Not sure if a group program is the right fit yet? Come hang out with me at the free Ask Me Anything call on August 20th at 12:30pm - same day, right after the Welcome Call. Just a casual space to ask questions, meet others, and get a feel for this work. Register here.