High heels, beautiful dresses, topless women, massive scars, empty kleenex boxes, and dim lighting. I know what you're thinking...a strip club gone terribly wrong? Nope. I'm referring to the opening night of Breast Fest 2011 and a screening of Patricia Zagarella's powerful new documentary, Baring It All, featuring renowned photographer David Jay of the SCAR Project and a few brave women who let us into their lives and under their shirts to show the world what we survivors already know - that breast cancer is about SO much more than just a pink ribbon.
This year was my first Breast Fest and I knew from the moment I arrived at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto that I had come home. Right away, I saw the familiar faces of fellow bloggers, old friends from past survivor conferences and plenty of strangers to turn into friends. Some of us traded dark jokes about how to dress up for opening night without looking like a man because of a trademark post-chemo crew cut or a newly flattened chest. Although my hair has finally come in (in all of its thin glory), my passport photo reminds me of how recently I looked like "Mr." Terri Wingham.
"So, you must be a year or so out," she says to me as she tugs at a strand of her spiky hair.
"Yes, chemo ended in March of 2010," I say. She nods. We move on to talking about the film. Where she's from. How many festivals she has attended.
I exhale. Relieved. I can tell she is too. Tonight, neither of have to see the slight sideways tilt of a head or hear someone say, "Wow, you had Breast Cancer? But, you're SOOO young".
Here, we all get it. We have faced the worst and made it to the other side. In the safety of a dark theatre, we can pass each other tissue because we know sometimes the reality of watching one of our sisters onscreen, fighting for her life, stirs the bubbling pot of fear in our bellies. Why did the cancer come back for her? What if it's me next? Here, we can drop our masks of bravery and honestly admit the thoughts that sometimes keep us awake at night. But, we can also slip right back into laughter when the lights come on and someone cracks a joke about her red rimmed eyes and the snot smeared on the sleeve of her dress.
Not bad for a Friday night. I could tell you about the rest of the weekend and all of the fantastic films I got to see, but instead I'll share the number one highlight for me. The best part of Breast Fest was the chance to connect with my sisters from across the country and the dedicated and wonderful Rethink Team. To find reasons to laugh until our stomachs hurt. To trade stories about so much more than just breast cancer. To continue to find light in a dark and sometimes incredibly difficult subject.
So, thank you Rethink for hosting such a fantastic event and thank you to the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation for helping subsidize travel for 30+ of us to get there. You gave us the chance to connect, laugh, and remember that we are not alone.
I will leave you with a few quotes on light that I'm loving today:
Dare to reach out your hand into the darkness, to pull another hand into the light. ~Norman B. Rice
You can't have a light without a dark to stick it in. ~Arlo Guthrie
The hero is the one who kindles a great light in the world, who sets up blazing torches in the dark streets of life for men to see by. The saint is the man who walks through the dark paths of the world, himself a light. ~Felix Adler
This year was my first Breast Fest and I knew from the moment I arrived at the Royal Ontario Museum in Toronto that I had come home. Right away, I saw the familiar faces of fellow bloggers, old friends from past survivor conferences and plenty of strangers to turn into friends. Some of us traded dark jokes about how to dress up for opening night without looking like a man because of a trademark post-chemo crew cut or a newly flattened chest. Although my hair has finally come in (in all of its thin glory), my passport photo reminds me of how recently I looked like "Mr." Terri Wingham.
"So, you must be a year or so out," she says to me as she tugs at a strand of her spiky hair.
"Yes, chemo ended in March of 2010," I say. She nods. We move on to talking about the film. Where she's from. How many festivals she has attended.
I exhale. Relieved. I can tell she is too. Tonight, neither of have to see the slight sideways tilt of a head or hear someone say, "Wow, you had Breast Cancer? But, you're SOOO young".
Here, we all get it. We have faced the worst and made it to the other side. In the safety of a dark theatre, we can pass each other tissue because we know sometimes the reality of watching one of our sisters onscreen, fighting for her life, stirs the bubbling pot of fear in our bellies. Why did the cancer come back for her? What if it's me next? Here, we can drop our masks of bravery and honestly admit the thoughts that sometimes keep us awake at night. But, we can also slip right back into laughter when the lights come on and someone cracks a joke about her red rimmed eyes and the snot smeared on the sleeve of her dress.
Not bad for a Friday night. I could tell you about the rest of the weekend and all of the fantastic films I got to see, but instead I'll share the number one highlight for me. The best part of Breast Fest was the chance to connect with my sisters from across the country and the dedicated and wonderful Rethink Team. To find reasons to laugh until our stomachs hurt. To trade stories about so much more than just breast cancer. To continue to find light in a dark and sometimes incredibly difficult subject.
So, thank you Rethink for hosting such a fantastic event and thank you to the Canadian Breast Cancer Foundation for helping subsidize travel for 30+ of us to get there. You gave us the chance to connect, laugh, and remember that we are not alone.
I will leave you with a few quotes on light that I'm loving today:
Dare to reach out your hand into the darkness, to pull another hand into the light. ~Norman B. Rice
You can't have a light without a dark to stick it in. ~Arlo Guthrie
The hero is the one who kindles a great light in the world, who sets up blazing torches in the dark streets of life for men to see by. The saint is the man who walks through the dark paths of the world, himself a light. ~Felix Adler
- Terri Wingham
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