By Megan Sayles
AFRO Staff Writer
msayles@afro.com
At just 36 years old, Constance “Connie” Chavis learned she had stage 3 breast cancer—a combination of ductal carcinoma in situ (DCIS) and invasive ductal carcinoma (IDC).
It wasn’t a lump or any major signs that led Chavis to the doctor’s office. It was her primary care doctor who suggested that she get a baseline mammogram. She wasn’t expecting news that would upend her life.
“At first, I was numb, frozen—like this can’t be happening. Then came anger, frustration and sense of being robbed of the life I thought I’d have. I didn’t have kids, I wasn’t married and suddenly, my fertility was at risk,” said Chavis. “I tried to handle it like a case at work, telling myself, ‘This has an end date,’ but that only made me avoid my emotions. I had to learn to sit in the pain and uncertainty.”
Her biopsy results came through on a Saturday—not in-person or over the phone, but on a virtual patient portal. Chavis, who is a social worker, asked one of her foster parents who happened to be a doctor to read the results to her. She said the moment felt unreal and cold.
Before she even had a chance to begin treatment, health care providers started telling her that she would have to stop working and go on disability. But, Chavis said, that wasn’t an option.
“I had foster kids on my caseload some of them, I was the only constant in their life. I wasn’t going to abandon them,” said Chavis. “On top of that, I’m a single woman. If I missed one paycheck, if I lost my insurance, it could mean lights off, bills unpaid and no safety net. Working wasn’t just about pride, it was survival. Cancer was hard enough, but the thought of being financially unstable on top of it? That fear was just as real.”
Treatment for Chavis was grueling—both physically and mentally. She underwent a double mastectomy with direct implants, chemotherapy with adriamycin and taxol, radiation and, later, had her ovaries and tubes removed.
Emotionally, losing her long hair was devastating—not because of vanity, but because it felt like losing a piece of her identity. Friends and family even ghosted Chavis, abandoning her at a time when she needed them most.
Chavis’ treatment journey was further complicated by adverse encounters with medical professionals. She learned that her cancer had spread to her lymph nodes not from her doctor, but from a scheduler calling to set up a port. A fertility specialist bluntly asked her why she could not just “use someone else’s eggs.” She was told she had to pay $600 for a surgery she had already met her deductible for—money she was later refunded.
As a Black woman, she faced another, distinct burden.
“I felt like I couldn’t break down or be soft. I had to come armed with research, questions and a fighter’s spirit just to be taken seriously. The questions after visits were often insensitive. Even after my ovaries were removed, I was still asked, ‘You aren’t pregnant, right?’” said Chavis. “That lack of awareness cut deep. In so many moments, I wasn’t seen as a whole person, I was treated like a checklist. And that reality made an already difficult journey feel even heavier.”
What became a turning point for her was discovering the Young Survival Coalition (YSC), a nonprofit dedicated to supporting young adults who’ve been diagnosed with breast cancer through community-building, education and advocacy.
“That connection gave me a tribe, a community where women looked like me, understood me and gave me space to show up without a mask,” said Chavis. “Those once-a-month meetups were lifelines. They gave me back a sense of belonging and reminded me I wasn’t walking this journey alone.”
YSC was established in 1998 by a group of women who had all been diagnosed with breast cancer before age 40. Since then, it’s grown into an online community with 170 in-person local networking groups across the country.
The organization also leads Project 528, the first global needs assessment of young adults impacted by breast cancer. Brianna Osofisan, a program associate for YSC, said the report was designed to identify shared challenges, devise solutions and to support breast cancer programs and research across the world.
“One of the things that stood out to me the most was how people are being told they have breast cancer. Most people were told over the phone that they had breast cancer, and so was I,” said Osisfan. “It’s such life-changing news to receive, but so many of us received it over the phone rather than in person, where we could be face-to-face with our provider and ask questions.”
Osofisan was diagnosed with triple negative breast cancer, an aggressive form, at 21 years old. After finding a lump, she went to get a mammogram but was initially told her chances of having breast cancer were slim because of her age.
Her treatment, which took place during her senior year of college, included fertility preservation, chemotherapy, a double mastectomy, radiation and reconstruction surgery. Her experience inspired her to join the team at YSC, giving her an opportunity to supply young survivors with the guidance, community and support she had been missing.
“We advocate for young adults’ voices being heard. Another one of the findings from the survey was that over half were told they were too young for breast cancer by their provider before receiving their diagnosis,” said Osisfan. “The awareness that young adults can and do get breast cancer is crucial for better treatment outcomes and care regimens.”
Both Chavis and Osofisan stressed that self-advocacy is paramount to navigating treatment and confronting a health care system that doesn’t always see young survivors. For Osofisan, hope for the future comes from the community that YSC continues to foster.
For Chavis, hope is rooted in her own journey through cancer and the strength she discovered along the way.
“My hope comes from knowing that even though cancer changed me, it didn’t end me,” said Chavis. “It gave me a new fire to live fully and encourage others to do the same.
