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We are not defined by our breasts.

a collage of photos of four women who have survived breast cancer

“When females spend much of their life being objectified and defined by their breasts (the size!

The ability to feed their babies!

“Are you no longer a total woman?

photo of april sterns a breast cancer survivor smiling into the camera wearing a paisley robe that is open to show her…

Breast Cancer Portrait Project — Missy Peters

No matter what we may say, its difficult to ignore the pervasive messaging that breasts equal womanhood.

April Stearns, 44

I found my lump one night while breastfeeding my daughter.

It was a time when I felt like my body finally made sense.

portait of marissa thomas a breast cancer survivor in a light purple silky jumpsuit standing with one hand on her hip

RTW Photography/Courtesy subject

I got a lot of unwanted attention.

My relationship with my mom was strained and it was made worse when my body developed.

This followed me through my 20s into my 30s.

selfie of maegan molnar a breast cancer survivor with buzzed hair wearing a blue heather tank top and touching her chin

Courtesy subject

But pregnancy and then breastfeeding made sense.

Then came breast cancer and all over again my breasts were confusing, and a source of shame.

I opted for a unilateralmastectomy.

portrait of tara elmore a breast cancer survivor standing on a sandy beach wearing blue jeans an orange top and a black…

Courtesy subject

For five years I wore a prosthetic breast form.

For four years now, I have gone about the world asymmetrically.

than I ever was two-breasted.

I feel sexy and confident and like my body is itself a message of breast cancer awareness.

I also am relieved I kept a breast for the side effect of nipple sensation and sexual function.

This was not an aspect anyone talked to me about.

I didn’t think about how much my breasts played a role in my pleasure.

Now, post-treatment and menopause, intimacy is challenging.

I’m glad I have one nipple to off-set that a bit.

I feel proud of my flat side.

I feel closer to myself without a breast there.

Like I didn’t belong anymore.

I missed my cleavage and stared at it on other women.

But when I started going about asymmetrically, something shifted inside of me.

I no longer feel invisible.

I feel confident and proud of what my body has survived so far.

Breasts don’t give a person value.

Marissa Thomas, 41

Prior to cancer, I loved my breasts!

I loved the way they looked and how they felt.

To me they were perfect.

Now, it’s not the same.

I’m not as confident in my breasts now as I was pre-cancer.

But now I know I am more than just my breasts.

To show others, it’s okay for you to see us as our new, natural selves.

you’re able to love us or leave us but we will still be here!

To show and encourage other women that it is okay to be unapologetically themselves.

I am proud of my breasts and body.

They helped me survive when I didn’t think it was possible and for that I thank it.

But now I’m turning my pain into purpose.

Some days are easier than others.

Weve been dealt cards no one was ready for.

So Im giving myself and my body grace to accept where we are now.

I loved my breasts and felt that they held power and were a very important part of my identity.

I was diagnosed just prior to my wedding and the dress I wore showed cleavage.

I remember wondering if I would ever look at myself the same way in a dress again.

Since having my double mastectomy withreconstructionI am very indifferent regarding my breasts.

They’re numb and, though they look natural, they don’t feel likemine.

Women are sexualized from a young age, our breasts are a major part of that equation.

What truly made me feel “less of a woman” was the association of breast feeding and womanhood.

Separating this inability to provide nourishment to a child from my femininity and society’s maternal pressures was difficult.

My sense of self has completely come full circle since being diagnosed.

At one point I was incredibly lost and ashamed of myself and my body.

I am more confident, more sexual, and stronger than I was.

I no longer tie my worth and my femininity and sexuality to my outward appearance.

I have found that the sexiest and best parts of me can’t be seen.

Tara Elmore, 42

I’m grateful for my boobs.

Even and especially after feeding three babies with themone after cancer!

I kind of always hated them before.

They weren’t the right size or shape; never made me feel like I was enough.

When I was diagnosed, so many people had the ‘just get rid of them mentality.’

I had a lumpectomy.

I was relieved to keep them.

I know that’s not how everyone feels, but I did.

I wasn’t prepared for the grief of losing them.

It felt like a chance to love, appreciate, and enjoy them to reconnect through this new lens.

I’m free in my body now.

Something shifted for me in the space I had during treatment.

Now, body image is about strength, health, and truth.

And I feel sexier and more attractive post-treatment.

I want to fully live the human experience in this body.

I wasn’t doing that before.

The body holds all of this energy, our memories, trauma.

It can be really intense.

Occasionally, some grief shows up for the younger me who missed out.

We all know breasts are overly sexualized.

Now that I feel connected to my breasts, they feel both more and less sexual.

I remember being back at work soon after surgery and treatment.

Suddenly, it got cold and my nipples got hard.

WTF is that?!

Now, I feel so much more at home in my body.

Interviews have been edited and condensed for clarity.

Jessica Zuckeris a Los Angeles-based psychologist specializing in reproductive health.

She is the author ofI HAD A MISCARRIAGE: A Memoir, a Movement.