I was 19 years old when I found my first breast lump.

What makes that moment even more unforgettable is that I found it myself on the very same day, shortly after leaving my annual physical. I was young, already a mother, and I didn’t fully understand my family’s breast cancer history or what that history could eventually mean for me. I simply knew my body well enough to recognize that something felt different.

Thankfully, that first lump was benign, but breast cancer would continue to be a presence in my life long before I ever knew there was a word for women like me: Previvor.

My Family History Was Part of My Story, Too

As I got older, I began learning more about the breast cancer diagnoses within my family, particularly on my father’s side. I didn’t know who my father was or anything about his side of the family until I was 32 years old. I often wonder how differently my journey may have unfolded had i known that history sooner. Instead, I spent years unaware that one-half of my family’s story was also my own.

When I finally learned my family history, I discovered that four of my paternal sisters had been diagnosed with breast cancer in their early 30s. Sadly, three of them lost their lives to this disease, while one has now been in remission for more than 20 years. Learning this changed everything. It’s also something I wish more young women understood:

Your father’s family history matters, too.

When we’re asked about breast cancer, so much attention naturally goes toward our mothers, grandmothers, and maternal relatives. But hereditary cancer risk can come from either parent. Knowing the medical history on both sides of your family can lead to life-changing conversations with your healthcare provider.

For me, it certainly did. At 32 years old, I began seeing a breast specialist and had my very first mammogram. After evaluating both my personal and family history, my healthcare team determined that my estimated lifetime risk of developing breast cancer was 60%.

Hearing those words changed my life. Although I had never been diagnosed with breast cancer, I suddenly found myself making decisions no healthy 32-year-old imagines having to make.

Learning I Was High Risk

I had not been diagnosed with breast cancer. But suddenly, cancer was no longer something that had only happened to other women in my family. I had to think about what a significantly elevated risk meant for my future. Being high-risk comes with its own emotional journey.

There is fear, uncertainty, appointments, waiting for results, questions about genetic testing, and conversations you never imagined having while you’re otherwise healthy. For years, increased surveillance became part of my life. I underwent regular mammograms and breast MRIs, often alternating every six months. Every appointment reminded me why I was being monitored so closely. Every scan required me to continue making decisions about what was best for my body and my future.

Choosing Prevention

Eventually, I had to ask myself one of the hardest questions of my life:

Do I continue living with intensive surveillance, or do I choose another path?

On July 11, 2023, I underwent a preventative nipple-sparing bilateral mastectomy with DIEP flap reconstruction. I want to be very clear about something that is incredibly important to my story.

I did not have breast cancer.

My surgery was a preventative decision made after years of understanding my risk, learning my family history, being closely monitored, talking with my healthcare team, and deciding what was right for me. Preventative surgery is not the right decision for every high-risk woman. My story is not here to tell another woman what decision she should make. My story is to remind every woman that she deserves to know her options. Every women deserves to ask questions, deserves individualized information about their own risk, and deserves to be an active participant in decisions about their own body.

Becoming the Representation I Needed

Today, I proudly identify as a Breast Cancer Previvor. But when I was 19 and found that first lump, I didn’t know that word. I didn’t see many Black women talking publicly about living with a high risk of breast cancer without having a cancer diagnosis.

I didn’t know there was an entire community of women navigating increased risk, surveillance, difficult decisions, and prevention. That is exactly why Black and Brown Previvor visibility matters. Our breast cancer conversations cannot begin only after diagnosis.

Black and Brown women deserve to see ourselves represented in conversations about family history, breast cancer risk assessments, genetic counseling and testing, increased surveillance, preventative options, reconstruction, emotional wellness, and informed decision-making.

We are part of the breast cancer community, too.

From Pain to Purpose

Today, I have the privilege of becoming some of the representation I wish I had when I was younger.

I am a Licensed Practical Nurse.

I am a Baddie Ambassador.

I am an Advocate.

I am a Woman Of Faith.

I am a Mother.

And I am a Black Breast Cancer Previvor.

My advocacy isn’t about telling every woman to make the same decision I made. It’s about helping women realize they have permission to ask questions before there is a diagnosis.

Ask your mother about your family history.

Ask your father.

Talk to your grandparents, aunts, uncles, and relatives whenever possible.

Learn who was diagnosed, how old they were, and what types of cancer occurred in your family. Talk with your healthcare provider about what that information could mean for you and whether a formal breast cancer risk assessment or genetic counseling may be appropriate.

Most importantly…

Know your body, trust yourself, and advocate for yourself when something doesn’t feel right.

Again, I found my first lump at 19. I could have never imagined where that moment would eventually lead me. Today, I have the privilege of reaching back for another woman—especially another Black or Brown woman navigating her own breast cancer risk and wondering where she belongs.

You belong here.

Previvors belong here.

Black and Brown Previvors are here.

And our stories deserve to be seen, heard, and included. My hope is that another young woman will hear my story sooner than I heard one like mine. Because when we know our family history, understand our risk, and advocate for ourselves, we give ourselves the opportunity to make informed decisions and those decisions have the power to change the course of our lives.

Melishia Branch, LPN
Breast Cancer Previvor
Baddie Ambassador | Advocate