Rhonda Diaz Caldewey

It took a 28 year old to open my eyes to what I already knew was there. Under the surface of a hardworking, well dressed bunch of young professionals, the old guard still reigns.

My father grew up on the shores of a small town in Puerto Rico. A little town fondly called Boca Chica. Small mouth. He often referred to it however as “small kiss” as the memories from that beachside town still softly kiss his forehead everyday.

Last year, after a routine mammogram, it was discovered that cancer cells were abnormally accumulating in one of my breasts. Cancer cells are in all of us, and throughout our body. When they cluster, but do not spread, it is pre-cancer. When they spread, it is cancer.