Sarah B, Colchester

I found a hardening in my breast in 2005, and although my GP wasn’t concerned, he sent me to get it checked out. It was a total shock when I found out I had stage 2 breast cancer. I went for the mastectomy, because I thought it gave me a better chance; and I had a reconstruction because I thought it would be less traumatic to wake up with two breasts.

In 2012, I had a recurrence in the same breast. All the hard work they had done with the reconstruction had to be taken out, and I had to have radiotherapy. Sometimes you cannot have reconstruction after radiotherapy, because the skin thickens; but luckily I was fine. There has been a lot of surgery over the past 12 years.

Deciding to have the tattoo done was an empowering act in itself. I worked with Julie from Flaming Gun in Colchester, and she was amazing. It has really boosted my confidence; I just love looking at my tattoo and wish I had done it earlier. The horror of what happened to me in those 12 years was written in the scars I saw every day: me as a survivor, but also the surgery, the chemotherapy and the nipple reconstruction. Every day I had to face the raw truth of what happened to me in the mirror. Now, my body art is something beautiful to look at.

Sarah G, Cheam

Photograph: Kate Peters

In March 2016, I went for a routine health check. I felt the healthiest and fittest I had in my life. I went for the mammogram and just waltzed in and waltzed out, because I check regularly that there are no lumps or bumps. I got an urgent call from the consultant two days later, referring me to a breast specialist, because I had a 7cm x 4cm malignant mass in my left breast.

I thought I was comfortable with my body post-mastectomy, but having the tattoo has transformed me

I tried not to go into panic. I did my best to avoid searching the internet, as you read all these horror stories. My breast surgeon was just so lovely. If I make a human connection with someone, then everything feels easier and better, no matter what the situation. Two weeks later, I had my mastectomy, followed by immediate reconstruction. It feels an insult to call what was left behind a scar; it was such a beautifully perfect fine line. I was very happy with how it looked.



I thought I was comfortable with my body post-mastectomy, but having the tattoo has transformed me. As I started to recover, I thought about how I didn’t have a nipple there now, and it felt as if my femininity had been stripped away. I discussed nipple reconstruction and thought about having a nipple tattoo. But neither felt right. When I learned about the P.ink movement in the US, through which tattoo artists give up their time for free to support survivors, it felt like such a positive thing to do.

I met Dominique Holmes from the Black Lotus Studio in east London and we hit it off straight away. I knew what I had in mind in terms of design; I wanted it to be a living piece of art.

The night after getting the tattoo, I went home thinking it was fantastic; then I looked at the “before” shot, which I was so glad I had taken. I’m more body-confident now than I have ever been. I feel as if I’ve taken control not only of my body, but of myself as a woman. I’ve taken a life-changing and potentially detrimental experience, and turned it into a real positive.

I don’t think I would want my life back before the mastectomy. It’s beyond a physical thing; it’s a psychological change, and a change for the better.



Elaine, Arklow, County Wicklow

Photograph: Kate Peters

You get sick of hearing “be positive” or “chin up, you will be fine”. Hold on a second: when you’re in my shoes, you can tell me things will be fine.

I was diagnosed on 2 October 2015 with triple negative breast cancer, two weeks after I found the lump. Given the choice, it’s the one you don’t want, because hormone and targeted treatments don’t work and it can keep coming back. After two and a half months of chemo, they decided the treatment was killing me quicker than the cancer was. So, in early 2016, I opted to have a bilateral mastectomy. I had a further six months of chemo and 25 sessions of radiotherapy. On four or five occasions I was admitted to hospital with neutropenia, a low white blood cell count. On one occasion I had sepsis and neutropenia. The medical team told me afterwards they didn’t think I was going to live. I was very, very lucky.

The doctor would not let me return to work, because there is a very high chance of this cancer coming back. I took early retirement and have lived life to the full. I made my bucket list – to visit all 32 counties of Ireland. I took up painting and had my first exhibition last year. Looking back, I can see I was close to burnout. Unfortunately, it took cancer to slow me down. I have no intention of letting this beat me.

I gave up work and took up painting. I visited all 32 counties in Ireland



I had my first tattoo when I was 21; it was a time when women weren’t really having tattoos. All my tattoos represent milestones in my life. After surviving a bad horse riding accident, I had a dragon tattooed on my spine; my half sleeve represents my family story; and when my daughter left home, we both got matching gecko tattoos on our feet. After my treatment I researched mastectomy tattoos and P.ink pointed me in the direction of Anna at Adorn in Shrewsbury, because she was experienced in scar work.

I had no intention of having reconstruction; it was just not for me. I remember vividly the morning I left home to have the surgery and I looked at myself in the mirror – I knew I would not look like this again. It was adaunting thought. I love my tattoo. I adore it. It’s me claiming me back from cancer. Not the consultant’s way, not the plastic surgeon’s way. My way.

Juanita, San Diego

Photograph: Wander Aguiar

When I first found out, I was 25 and pregnant. I was living in Hawaii, away from family, and scared. Then, 24 years later, it came back in my right breast. I am now a two-time breast cancer survivor.

When you lose your breasts, it’s not beautiful. However, things are very different now: the technology and information are much better. If I knew then what I know now, I would have taken both breasts off and probably avoided the recurrence. In 1984, they just jammed an implant in you and sent you back out into the world. I nicknamed my doctor Frankenstein, because I hated my reconstruction.

I am lucky to be able to rock a bald head, but I was uncomfortable with myself for 15 years. It’s been a long journey

I was also one of those patients who lost their hair for ever; I had been given Taxotere (a common treatment in the 80s that resulted in permanent hair loss). As time has passed, I’ve learned to deal with that, and I am fortunate enough to be able to rock a bald head, but I was very uncomfortable with myself for 15 years. It’s been a long journey. A lot of people don’t realise that when you have breast cancer, it takes you down mentally, physically and financially. This tattoo is by Shane Wallin from Garnet Tattoo in San Diego. It’s a badge of honour, a symbol of all the tribulations and hard times in my life. My angel wings are a symbol of solidarity with my sisters around the world who have had breast cancer. There is beauty after breast cancer; it’s a painful journey, and in some ways beauty hurts. But I feel happy and sexy when I look in the mirror now. I feel proud to be a woman – like I have been reborn.

It’s important to me to share my story. I want to educate women, and remind them to do their monthly check-ups and get their annual mammograms. It’s up to us to stand up for ourselves, and take care of each other.

Kerry, Shropshire

Photograph: Kate Peters

I was diagnosed three days before my 40th birthday. I had a full mastectomy on the left side, with no reconstruction. For two years I lived with being flat on one side. None of the reconstruction methods were suitable for me, my physique, my lifestyle and the sports I played. It left me feeling incomplete, and I found that really upsetting. You sort of get chewed up, spat out – and off you go on your own. I was left thinking: “Now what?”

I didn’t feel the process was finished. I hated looking at my scar, and would cover myself up so my boyfriend at the time wouldn’t see it. My self-esteem took a real knock.

Instead of a scar slashed across my chest, I had a beautiful, personal piece of art; I couldn’t be happier

Mastectomy tattoos gave me another option. In honour of my paternal grandmother, Iris, who survived breast cancer in the 1950s, I had a beautiful flow of irises as my design, created by Anna at Adorn Studio in Shrewsbury. Overnight, my self-esteem rocketed. Instead of a scar slashed across my chest, I had a beautiful, personal piece of art; I couldn’t be happier with it.

I would love to see mastectomy tattoos become more mainstream; I would have liked to have been pointed in that direction a little bit sooner.

Diane, London

Photograph: Kate Peters

I discovered the idea of tattoos as a form of healing in Geralyn Lucas’s memoir, Why I Wore Lipstick To My Mastectomy. Tattooing enabled me to put my own stamp on my scar.

I was 29 when my left nipple started bleeding. I didn’t think much of it, but went to the doctor to be safe. As a precaution, they sent me for a mammogram, sonogram, MRI and then a biopsy. I had a very early diagnosis, but the cancer was extensive. It had filled my entire left breast.

I immediately started looking into reconstruction options. I knew I wanted the breast back, but nipple reconstruction never resonated with me.

The biggest revelation was that I had been averting my eyes from my scar, without realising. A weight was lifted

I had never had a tattoo; I had no idea how much it cost, or how to go about finding the right studio, or an artist I could trust. So I put it on hold. A few years later I found out about a P.ink tattoo event in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, where they were looking for women interested in being tattooed. They had brought together artists from all over the US who wanted to help women heal from a mastectomy. I requested Roxx from 2Spirit Tattoo in the Santa Monica mountains, because I’d seen her work and loved it.

It was exactly three years to the day after receiving my diagnosis that I got the tattoo. The biggest revelation was that I had been avoiding looking at myself in the mirror. I had been averting my eyes from my chest and scar, without realising it. A weight was lifted, and suddenly I had this beautiful piece of art.

Jill, Colchester

Photograph: Kate Peters. Art Direction: Gem Fletcher

When someone says, “You have cancer”, the world rocks for a minute. But once that was absorbed, I feel as if I got away quite lightly. My diagnosis was extremely fortuitous. I went to the doctor after noticing a change on one breast, which turned out to be nothing. During the mammogram, they discovered the other breast had a deep tumour, which I would never have been able to locate. I felt incredibly lucky that it had come to the surface.

I got through a lot of Minstrels to try to take my mind off the pain

They did the op, but later found an area of spread in my chest, so I decided to have a full mastectomy. That was a fairly straightforward decision. I can’t pretend the whole thing was devastating, because it really wasn’t; if I had been a lot younger, it would probably have been more traumatic. But it was painless, there was no chemo and it hadn’t spread elsewhere. The whole thing was very streamlined. The hospital was fab, the doctors were fab and the scars were fab.

I wasn’t interested in reconstruction, so I thought I’d have a tattoo instead. It was the perfect pretext to get something I had always secretly wanted.

My tattooist, Julie at Flaming Gun in Colchester, was recommended by my daughter, who has a beautiful tattoo. It was important to me to have a female tattoo artist. I had it in one sitting, and I got through a lot of Minstrels to try to take my mind off the pain. After my procedure I had been left with a blank space; so to have something decorative and quite lovely was definitely an improvement. It made me feel much more confident.



Maggie, Worksop

Photograph: Kate Peters. Art Direction: Gem Fletcher

Mastectomy tattoos randomly popped up on my Facebook feed one day, and caught my attention. I had a double mastectomy 20 years ago, because my identical twin died of breast cancer. From then on, I always felt I had to cover myself up. I was embarrassed to show the scars, and I was told I was ugly and deformed.

I’d had a few tattoos done by Ivana at Equilibrium in Worksop and, while having another done, we got into a conversation about mastectomy tattoos. It turned out that she wrote her university dissertation on the subject. She had no idea I had had a mastectomy and she had never done one before, so I offered to be her guinea pig.

A couple of weeks later we made a plan and went for it. My confidence went sky high. Every time I looked at them, I just thought my boobs looked amazing.

• The UK portraits form part of the Reclaim project, which has been running for two years. The project is still open and looking for subjects, particularly BAME women in the UK. Contact info@katepeters.co.uk