Your body is a temple, and your breasts are its guardians: listen to them, care for them, screen them.
If shame were a cure, breast cancer would be gone from our region. It isn’t, and silence has never saved a life. Across parts of the Arab world, speaking openly about breasts, illness, surgery, or scars can still feel taboo, tucked behind euphemisms and closed doors. This October—Breast Cancer Awareness Month—we’re breaking that quiet on purpose.
Here, Arab women share testimonies from every angle: those who carried the diagnosis in their own bodies and those who carried it beside a mother, sister, friend. Their stories hold fear, fatigue, and grief, but also loud laughter, gentle mornings, and a new tenderness for the skin they live in. They aren’t “back to normal”; they’ve rewritten normal. Scars become punctuation, not endings. Hair returns, or it doesn’t, and joy shows up anyway.
This is not an inventory of pain; it’s a chorus of renewal. Let these voices remind us that awareness is action, early checks are an act of love, and talking about our bodies proudly & publicly keeps more of us here to celebrate them.
My Rebirth
I was diagnosed with breast cancer at the age of 29, two years ago, in 2023 — and it changed me forever.
It all started in the shower, when I felt a lump on my right breast. I immediately went to the doctor, and from there began a journey of surgery, chemotherapy, and radiation. I went through all the wild side effects and became bald BUT ended up slaying the look…my fav era for sure!!
Cancer, as tough as it was, became my biggest teacher.
It reminded me to love myself deeply, to keep showing up for myself every single day, and to find meaning even in pain. And learned that the only way out is through.
My Tips for every woman out there:
Listen to your body and if you feel something, please go get it checked.
Do your self-breast exams regularly, an early detection can save your life! (my cancer wasn’t genetic)
And remember that no matter how hard things get, everything is temporary!!!
Carine Sabra
It changed me, to the better!
Honestly, I used to think it only happened to other people… until it happened to me.
The treatment period—especially the surgery and then radiotherapy—wasn’t simple. My body was very fragile & my immune system was struggling. But above everything, the love of my family and friends gave me strength and courage to keep going. This tough period of my life taught me to listen to my body and its needs, and take more time for myself.
Now, I pay more attention to myself and I enjoy doing it. I work out, and I keep an eye on my weight and my body.
To the women going through the same thing: you have the right to be afraid and to feel lost, but you are capable of getting through it with patience. And above all, never neglect your annual checkups… they saved my life. This ordeal gave me inner strength and, especially, the joy of savoring time with the people I love—and of feeling proud to have made it through it all.
Christiane G
My Cancer bed time story
So there I was, 27 in 2021, ready to settle in Dubai and kick off the next chapter of my life. Then boom: cancer showed up like an unwelcome plot twist.
I had this cyst that doctors brushed off because “you’re too young” or “there’s no history in your family.” Well, life had other plans.
I literally overheard a woman at the nail salon talking about her biopsy, and that little nudge sent me to a doctor who finally took it seriously. From there, it was a mad sprint—no time to feel, just racing to get answers. And when I got that call saying it was cancer, I basically told the doctor, “Don’t leave the office, I’m coming right now.” It was like running for my life.
But here’s the thing: I decided not to let cancer be some dark cloud over me. I turned it into a joke, refusing to see it as something here to steal my life. I kept working, kept pushing, and even when I was in and out of the ER, I refused to see myself as a victim.
I didn’t care about having boobs or not—I cared about living.
That’s why I chose a double mastectomy without hesitation. It wasn’t a death sentence. It was a rebirth.
What came next was the real transformation. This whole experience was a move from a self-destructive body image to an unconditional love for myself, my body, and my scars. I actually love myself more now than I did before my mastectomy. And honestly, with or without boobs, you’ll be loved. You’ve got to love yourself first. It’s part of who you are, and it helps you break out of that endless loop of social boundaries and stereotypes. That’s the true meaning of self-love I found. It taught me how loved I am, how deep life really goes beyond the surface.
So if there’s one thing I’d say to every girl out there: check yourself, take charge. If I could do this, so can you. I didn’t just survive cancer, I fell in love with my body.
Rim Choucair
October 9, 2023 – October 9, 2025
Two years since the passing of my childhood friend Rosie, taken by a cruel breast cancer on the eve of her 60th birthday.
I accompanied her from afar since she lived in the United States. It wasn’t always easy.
Rosie refused chemotherapy—‘It’s poison,’ she would say. She believed above all in miracles…
God is always there to help us through our suffering. He gives us tools: medication, treatments, surgery… and He supports us from above.
Just to say: trust the medical professionals who are here to save our lives, under the Lord’s guidance.
My dear friend, I hope you are in a better world, where there are no tears and no sadness.
Anonymous
You are stronger than you think
Before all that happened, I used to take care of my body. I exercised, watched my weight, and liked the way I looked. Today, I thank God the cancer wasn’t aggressive, but a medical error left me with a deformity in my chest and an impairment in my arm. It was that error, more than the illness, that changed everything.
The medical mistake and the four subsequent surgeries were the most defining. Poorly operated on the first time, then ‘repaired’ roughly, I ended up losing part of the mobility in my arm, and my body changed. Radiotherapy worsened the after-effects. It’s a physical and emotional shock I still carry.
Exercise saved me. It gave me back strength, energy, and the will to live. It helped me reconnect with my body in a different way.
If I had one advice to give, it’s don’t be afraid. Ask every question before surgery; demand clear explanations and, if necessary, the presence of a plastic surgeon.
There’s no shame in wanting to preserve your image and your integrity.
Surround yourself with kind people and, above all, keep a positive attitude. Be an active agent in your journey, not just a patient. You are stronger than you think.
Joumana T
My body is my ally
We live a normal life and enjoy a healthy body without really seeing it, without being aware of it. Then suddenly that life is struck down by a single “word”—an illness that was barely spoken of a few years ago—and a journey begins that seems endless.
I was diagnosed with stage-2 breast cancer; I had to undergo surgery, radiotherapy, chemotherapy, and hormone therapy—the whole lot.
The moment that shook me the most was losing my hair. I lived through a dreadful year.
Not wanting to tell my daughters, who were very young at the time, I had to invent stories only little girls could believe: the hairdresser burned my hair; food poisoning kept me in bed…
In the end, I spent six months wearing a wig and went to work in a sleeveless undershirt because my skin was burned by the radiotherapy. Today I have a little hollow part in my left breast and a few scars, but my body has become my ally.
We—our bodies and us—are survivors. It may not be perfect, but it doesn’t matter. I take care of it; we’ve mistreated it enough.
To those going through this rough phase today, I tell you and I repeat: it is only a phase. Fight! Victory is there; do not doubt your strength.
As for me, since then I’ve found the joy of living again—rather, the joy of being alive.
Anonymous
