When my mom got breast cancer, she would come and get us from school in her caftan without her prostheses on. She never hid it. Everyone in my town knew my mom had breast cancer, and anyone who was diagnosed called my mom. She counselled them and held their hand. We need to really embrace that word “sisterhood.” We need to believe in ourselves, and we need to seek each other out. The world is against us. The world doesn’t see the beauty of us. Now, I don’t go out my way to hide my hand at all. I’m proud of my stump. It grounds me, and we need to share our stories as Black women.