The Ugliest Bra in the World
Research Understanding Breast Cancer Survivors
It’s officially spooky season! Or pumpkin spice season, which is spooky since I’m not a fan. Don’t hate me.
Welcome to my new subscribers, I’m thrilled you’re here. Please feel free to share this newsletter and let me know if you’ve used any of my research ideas and tips.
I’ve recently returned from Chicago from the Women’s Fiction Writers Association 10th year anniversary conference. It was an amazing, productive few days where I reconnected with my writing peeps. Here’s a picture of my book “siblings”, Hadley and Christine. Their debut novels will also be coming out in 2024 from Lake Union Publishing and we share the same aquisition editor. Yes, I am short. Also, in the background is my friend Lisa Kirchner who recently released an amazing memoir.
My book The Pelican Tide is moving closer to publication. I’ve seen the first book cover designs and I’m done with editing. Stay tuned.
October is National Breast Cancer Awareness month. Don’t worry this isn’t a sad newsletter. However, if you have breasts or love someone who does, remember your annual mammogram!.
The Story of the Ugliest Bra in the World
Back in 2005, I joined the board of Success in the City (SITC). It was a Northern Virginia networking organization that connected women entrepreneurs. The group had amazing energy, we were making things happen!
One of our causes was to support the Tigerlily Foundation, an organization that provides education and advocacy for women ages 15-45 who have breast cancer. And if you’re surprised to learn women that young can get breast cancer, I was too.
Like most consumers, my understanding of breast cancer came from sources like the Susan G. Kamen foundation, the pink ribbon, and Race for the Cure. Breast cancer awareness was “branded” in 1985 by the American Cancer Society.
Breast cancer was pink and feminine. See the above image.
SITC held an auction event where people decorated bras to be auctioned for the Tigerlily Foundation. As a board member, I was asked to decorate a bra for the event. Well…while I may be creative, I’m not crafty. The rules were to start with a 36C sized bra and then to let your imagination run.
Seriously, decorate a bra for charity?
Other people were making elaborate feathered creations with baubles, buttons, and ribbons. It was burlesque meets Halloween. The more I heard about the decorating, the sewing, and the hot glue, the more I knew I was not a contender. I’m a writer.
I decided to buy fabric markers and write on my bra. But what was I supposed to say? Thankfully, breast cancer was not something I knew much about. I wasn’t interested in clinical diagnosis. I was “decorating” a bra.
I took to the breast cancer chat boards to hear directly from women about their experiences, here are few.
Mayo Clinic Breast cancer support
It was important that I remain anonymous. Like a reporter observing an event, my presence was to be none. I was conducting research. The following week changed me.
Breast cancer is not pink and girlie. Cancer is not soft and feminine. It decimates families, and families include men.
A lot of fundraising good can come from branding a disease. Do you remember the ALS ice bucket challenge? People dumped buckets of ice water over their heads for ALS and then nominated other people to take the plunge. The result, according to ALS.org is that this viral media idea did positively accelerate ALS research and today there are new therapies.
Money+awareness+research+therapy=awesome.
I argue though that when it comes to breast cancer it’s different. Yes, oh GOD YES! we need money for cancer screening and treatment. And perhaps making breast cancer pink and girlie has helped. But it hasn’t helped those who suffer from breast cancer as they too have an idea that they should be strong, fight, and be a girl boss. They too will look back on some future race for the cure as they cross the finish line with a pink shirt, pink hat, pink water bottle, and pink ribbon, and a participation medal.
I’m now stepping off the soap box and back to the Ugly Bra story.
There I was, armed with research and what felt as notes from eavesdropping in a cancer clinic waiting room. I had lost all enthusiasm for this decorating project but I was signed up. I had to make something.
I purchased a second bra, this one black, and created a ying yang bra mashup. On the black side, I wrote all the horrible things I had learned, the truth about breast cancer. On the white side, I wrote the truth about survival. Women didn’t feel brave. They felt they had no choice. They were physically and emotionally scarred and dealing with it. They wanted to be seen as the women who they had become because of cancer and it was no longer sexy. The back of the bra is connected with a tiny metal button I found that says hope.
I stitched and then wrote my entry statement. Behold the Ugliest Bra in the world. I set out to make something fun and beautiful but learned that cancer is ugly so my bra is ugly.
I dropped off my ugly bra and was wowed by the beautiful creations people had made. This group had some serious talent. My ugly bra was even uglier surrounded by this finery. I was embarrassed to leave it, but I did.
The day of the auction, I received a call from a fellow board member asking if I was coming to the event. I was tired and didn’t want to go. My bra would be pushed to some dark corner, certainly not raising any money for this important cause. “Just come, you have a to be there.” Ugh, I went.
Sure enough, my bra was set alone off to the side. It had no sisters. It was a zit on the face of the prom queen.
The bidding began and in a room of high merriment, we raised some important money. Then the awards were presented. I applauded as people claimed their prizes for their designs. Then the prize for first place was called. I was standing in the back, hiding like my bra, talking quietly through the presentation, paying no attention. When my name was called I didn’t even hear it. The ugliest bra in the world had won first place. I was stunned and confused.
After the event, I collected my bra, no one had bid on it -ha! and then I was stopped by one of the judges. With tears in her eyes she told me I was the only one who understood and that my ugly creation was the unanimous winner.
All the judges were breast cancer survivors. I had done my research and it had mattered. I tell this story not to brag but as a tale about the power of research. The power of taking a moment to attempt to understand, to be sensitive. As I write characters today with illnesses and challenges, I always remember my ugly bra and stop, listen, and learn. Walk a mile in someone’s shoes, or in this case, slip on their mastectomy bra. As best as you can of course.
As a footnote, here’s another important bit of the story. The local media showed up for the event and a reporter was interviewing women and their beautiful bras. I stood by waiting to be interviewed, after all, I had won the night. No one wanted to talk to me. My bra was ugly and not worthy of their column inches or photos. They too had missed the story. I urge all my writing friends to research the truth in your stories it matters.
Wiping away the tears.
Wow. Thought-provoking and powerful essay. Thank you, Sharon.