This is a post, but it's also something personal.
This photo was taken as part of an event sponsored by our resident student association. We tie dyed pink t-shirts to wear the next week to a talk by a cancer survivor.
I dyed my shirt but I did not go to the talk because I couldn't do it emotionally. I've typed and deleted and retyped the rest of this paragraph again and again but I can't bring myself to hit the 'publish post' button. My words feel too crude and lackluster to describe how strange it is that my grandma had planned to be my college roommate and instead, she died my sophomore year of high school.
I wore my pink shirt the day of the talk, even though I didn't go. My brother, my boyfriend, and I all played in the 2010 Halo Reach Fight Like a Girl tournament to raise money for breast and cervical cancer awareness. (Doug and I even made our armor pink for our first match and then switched back to normal armor with pink star emblems in honor of my grandma for the rest of our rounds.)
I'm considering stenciling a Spartan from Halo on the front of my t-shirt turned halter top and writing "I fight like a girl" on it. She's be holding a red flag with a pink star on it. But I just can't bring myself to do it yet.
You can't see Miguel's face in my photo and that isn't by accident. If I were to show his face, the picture could be perceived as about him. But it isn't. It's about everyone who struggles to raise awareness about cancer; it's for the survivors who share their story and their strength; it's for those who didn't survive who are being remembered. And it's for those who hope that no one else will ever have to be diagnosed again.