I became a cancer influencer. It helped me through the hard times — until my hair grew back.

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I worried about what would happen to my engagement once my body started to look normal again.

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“The challenge isn’t just surviving cancer,” Michelle said. “It’s figuring out who you are when you’re no longer ‘the sick person,’ but cancer is still part of your story. That journey deserves space online, even if it doesn’t always get the likes.”

Michelle, who’s now the chief community officer of The Breasties, a nonprofit organization creating community for those affected by breast and gynecologic cancers, said: “There’s a whole generation of young survivors like me navigating life after treatment, and we need those stories too.”

Sharing my experience of medically-induced menopause feels particularly meaningful as that part of the treatment is rarely talked about. Through my content, I hope to broaden understanding and ultimately help improve how young breast cancer patients are treated and supported.

But in addition to my #authentic intentions, I’m well-aware that latching onto the “cancer brand” is sometimes nice. Automatic legitimacy. I never thought I would be so public about the experience, let alone have a Patreon dedicated to it. After all, being a content creator on social media is not me, but then again, I also thought cancer was very not me.

Now I’m a cancer person claiming the identity tighter than ever, yes, to stay relevant, but also — and importantly — to remind people that cancer doesn’t end when the hair grows back.