This is Emily

This is Emily's story.


My scar seems like it has always been a part of me, but if I really think back I can remember a time when what was there in its place was a circular brown birthmark that my mother called my "chocolada." I remember feeling shy about it and not understanding why it had to be removed surgically, at the age of ten. It was removed because it posed a cancer risk. My scar reminds me of the fear, confusion and vulnerability I felt being anesthetized. It used to be a source of shame; a mark of imperfection. It looked rough, like it belonged on a pirate's arm. I used to lie saying it was a result of a skating accident involving a blade. I made it into something impressive to hide my insecurity about it. As I grew inside, my scar grew organically with me. It stretched out like a canvas across the architecture of my mature elbow and arm bones. Through a long inner journey I began to accept myself and embrace the beauty of my imperfections. My scar looks completely different from this new lens. The insecurity and vulnerability has turned into a resistance, beauty and acceptance. This is how it feels in my skin.