Catherine Gigante-Brown

The office cubicle is indeed a strange bird. Here's how to survive life in a box without driving you—or your office mates—crazy.

BCBs are loud and proud and refuse to go down easy. And quietly. We have things to say. We have things to teach. We still have life to live. And damn it, we are and we will. With one breast. With no breasts. With reconstruction surgery.

The overinflated American work ethic is slowly killing us. It’s constantly pushing us to do more — put in longer hours, check business emails on personal time, take calls from our bosses when we’re chilling in Cancun.

I’m boycotting you until you start recognizing breast cancer survivors like me by carrying mastectomy bras.

At the New York City release party for Dayna Kurtz’ latest, Rise and Fall, my friend Nadia leaned over to me and whispered, “Why the fuck

Upset you lost your keys? Try losing your breast. Pissed off about missing that train? Try missing your son’s 8th grade graduation because of a horrific infection from fluid buildup in the previously-mentioned missing breast. See what I mean? It kind of puts life into perspective.

To the tattoo artist, I was a flesh canvas that she could transform into something beautiful.

We’ve pieced ourselves back together in a patchwork quilt of ragged emotions. The aftermath of 9/11 wasn’t easy for us, yet it was much easier than for some. People standing 50 feet away from Peter didn’t come home that night; he did.

"Remember, this isn’t just happening to you, it’s happening to moms everywhere. It’s not your fault — "

Why do we venerate individuality in adults but condemn it in children?