Originally published in Wildfire Magazine, The Social Issue December 2019/ January 2020

It gets old — being the odd girl out.

Signing in at oncology clinics while the older patients question if I’m in the right place. Going to support groups as the “breast cancer baby” because everyone else is two or three times my age. Being constantly told that I am “too young” to have breast cancer and yet, here I am – the odd girl out. It was on a whim, nearly two weeks before the Young Survival Coalition (YSC) Summit in Orlando, FL, that I asked my mom to take the two-hour drive with me from Jacksonville.

We arrived at the Renaissance Hotel and stepped immediately into the hustle and bustle of one of the largest breast cancer conferences for young women. We were new to the scene, but we didn’t miss a beat as we rushed around the hallway attempting to win the icebreaker game. Find someone diagnosed when they were pregnant. Find someone who is a Young Survivor Coalition Face-to-Face Coordinator. Find someone diagnosed the same year as you. Eriel was statuesque and walked right up to us and introduced herself as a metavivor. Lisa was a Florida State Leader who would later confess her love for me on the dance floor.

And that’s when I started to feel the magic, running around making 30-second introductions. I was meeting women I had been following online for the first time in person. I wanted to hug them. To thank them for thinking of others during a time their own world was crashing down. To congratulate them on their health milestones and wish them continued success. Some were just as sweet as I imagined they would be. Others seemed caught up in being an Instagram cancer-lebrity.

But all of us were attending this special weekend-event for one reason: we were part of a sisterhood no one wanted to be part of.

The hot tub was nothing short of show and tell.

Tifanie, a spunky Latina who braved breast cancer while pregnant, unapologetically sported a bathing suit with one natural breast and one flat breast awaiting reconstruction.

Miya displayed the beautiful job her plastic surgeon did with her DIEP-flap surgery, letting us feel the difference between her breasts formed with fat tissue and my new breast implants.

Yvonne gave me hope as she shared tips to overcome painful sex and revealed her plans to hopefully have a baby soon.

There were no scars or questions to be ashamed of. The conversations flowed naturally like we’d always known each other. We laughed together.

We learned together.

We were instantly, undeniably connected.

But it wasn’t until the night of the dance party that I grasped what this weekend truly meant, not just to me, but to all the women in attendance.

As I stood back and observed the crowded room, I saw women and the people who loved them dancing and singing their hearts out for what felt like the first time in a long time. I saw women who beat breast cancer taking a break from figuring how to put their lives back together again. I saw women in the midst of the fight for their lives forget about their medical bills and their upcoming infusions. I saw women who for three days found a place where no one was the odd girl out.

As I stood back and observed the crowded room, I cried, overwhelmed by the joy I was witnessing and the sense of belonging I felt. I was not alone in this. I had sisters who needed me just as much as I needed them. We were all in this together and we planned to keep in touch until next time.

I cried again as hugged everyone goodbye because I knew for some there would never be a next time. Some farewells would be forever. Some dances would be our last.

There’s a part of me that will always be thankful for being the odd girl out because not fitting in with the masses led me to hope.

It inspired me to love others the way I experienced love that weekend.

And it’s blessed me with friendships with the most extraordinary women.

For the Breast of Us will be in the house at the 2020 YSC Summit. Find out how to take part in their first Breast Cancer Baddie photoshoot and join them at the LA Meetup.