The reason behind the pink party: Our hats go off to the beautiful, talented, courageous @ikillbarbies 💖💕✨
We wanted to share her story, because despite it all, she shines such a bright light and inspires us here at trapxart to get up, dust our shoulders off and keep going no matter what. 💪🏽
Full video on our YouTube, link in bio.
Special thanks to our Development Director @thesocialcanvass for editing this video ✨
📸: @ultraaashots
#TNBCAwareness #TNBC #BreastCancer #Cancer #TNBCThriver
How is success measured in life? Don’t worry, there is no right or wrong answer to this question, as it’s different for everyone. I never envisioned working a 9-5, it was NEVER in my vision. I was always a creative mama. I always had this design of a dream. Me coming home to a big beautiful open floor plan mansion, from a business trip in Milan, styling Riri and her family for a photoshoot of course, hubby greeting me at the door with a giant hug and kiss with the kiddos following behind screaming “Mommy mommy! Look what I made!!” 🥹. Last August, that vision got a little blurred for me. After waking up one morning in a little pain, I found a lump in my breast. Didn’t think too much of it, consulted my family who told me I should get it checked out. Prior to that, I had no idea how rampant cancer ran in my family. My great granny was diagnosed with breast cancer in her 50s, & lived to be 94 so I wasn’t thinking anything out of the ordinary. 8/1/2024 was one of the numbest days I’ve felt in a while. After having difficulty getting an appointment through my primary care, they only have appointments available in December, SIX months from me finding the lump, I was finally able to get seen through Planned Parenthood (Shoutout to them!! 🥹🥹) 15 mins into the appointment, she found a lump, and not the same one that I had found. There I was, 36, 2 months shy of my 37th birthday, sitting on the edge of the chair in the doctor’s office, touching these two lumps, wondering what was coming next. The majority of the women in my family have had some lump, bump, or bruise biopsied, so I wasn’t worried, all have come back benign. That phone call on 8/1 shook my world. Everything I once knew, changed in a matter of moments. The months following I’d have countless appointments, countless blood retrievals, had to quit my job, my body was just tired, & my mental was slowly deteriorating. I was losing control of my life and I was feeling rushed with every thought. Thoughts about death were everyday for those first few months. Any moment, I could be taken from this existence… [ continued in comments ]
✨ 37 ✨
It’s officially a week past my birthday, and 2 complete months that I’ve been sitting with this diagnosis. I’m always the fun and bright spirit so I found it hard to be that for myself, being faced with Stage 3 Breast Cancer. To go from deciding where my final project photoshoots were going to take place, to discussing fertility options and IVF treatments, within a few weeks, was CRAZY. To go from what hairstyle I want next to deciding if I need to invest in cold caps to attempt to save my hair. OVERWHELMED is an understatement.
I know you all were anticipating my annual birthday photoshoot pictures, but ya boy had other plans for me.
I’m honestly just blessed. Blessed to see 37, blessed with my tribe, my family, I’m just truly blessed. Thank you for those still in my life, and for those newly in it 😊. A really really big thank you for those who have been putting in major effort in making everyday, since my diagnosis, as close to normal as it can be. I have no idea for the road and journey up ahead, but my mama ain’t raise no punk. We’ve got a hell of a battle ahead of us, so I hope y’all got y’all seatbelts on, nice and tight. We’re about to make cancer our bitch! 💕✨
Can I have one wish? (in my Ray-J voice)
IF YOU GOT TITTIES,
GET EM CHECKED. 🥺
📸: @enfenestos
I didn’t record this to be dramatic.
I recorded it because this is real.
Triple-negative breast cancer is aggressive.
For Black women, the statistics are heavier.
But what you don’t see is the duality.
Working while scared.
Creating while exhausted.
Crying in parking lots and still clocking in.
There were nights I wondered if I would get to grow old.
And mornings I chose to move anyway.
This is not just awareness.
This is survival.
If you’re in it — I see you.
If you love someone in it — support them loudly.
If you’ve been ignoring your body — please stop.
We deserve to be believed.
We deserve early detection.
We deserve long, beautiful lives.
And I fully plan on living mine.
🩷 #thepinkshapes #TNBC #BlackWomenAndBreastCancer
World Cancer Day
I don’t post the hardest parts of my story. Not because they aren’t real, but because they’re still happening. There are details I don’t talk about. The kind that don’t leave your body when the appointment ends.
I work so I can live.
I advocate so I can be believed.
I survive in a body that had to learn how to protect itself in rooms that should have done it for me.
This is my life.
Not the after.
The middle.
Some days, surviving is the only thing I do right.
#worldcancerday #cancer #thriver
Two months of learning this new body… this unfamiliar terrain that somehow still feels like home. I’m finally cleared from restrictions, finally able to move again; slowly, softly, but on my terms.
I won’t lie: navigating a foreign body is weird. Some days I feel powerful, other days I feel like I’m reintroducing myself to myself. But even in all that, I still love her. I’m learning her language. I’m learning what she needs. And she’s still here. I’m still here.
The last two months have been filled with so much love, sometimes that it made me forget about this journey. From family pulling up, friends checking in, new and loving energies entering my existence, people showing up in ways I didn’t even know how to ask for. I’ve felt held. I’ve felt seen. And I’m grateful for every moment, every visit, every “how are you feeling today?” text.
I’m also trying to be more conscious about what I’m eating… what I’m feeding this healing body. But I’m also enjoying life. Finding that balance between discipline and delight is its own kind of recovery.
Grateful to exist.
Grateful to heal.
Grateful to be able-bodied enough to keep choosing life, softness, and joy.
Here’s to month 2 of recovery… and to whatever magic month 3 brings, I can’t wait. ✨💗
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“You’ll be dead within a year if you don’t listen to me.”
That sentence — said by a doctor last August like it was punctuation — landed in my chest and rearranged everything. It taught me how loud a future can be when it’s suddenly uncertain, and how small the things that once felt massive really are.
Since then I’ve lost 50 pounds (200 → 150), finished my Master’s, moved into a new place that actually feels like me, and been elbow-deep in creative projects I won’t stop showing up for. I’ve submitted my work to contests (most of which I didn’t win) and kept polishing anyway. I’ve stepped way out of my comfort zone — DJing at a real venue for the first time ever. I’m curating an intentional life, I celebrate wins out loud and whisper thank yous in my head. I try to be mindful. I try to be brave.
But let’s not gloss over what’s real: a few weeks ago 4 new tumors were discovered — a local recurrence — and I have surgery AGAIN in two weeks. I carry grief like a carry-on I can’t check. I’ve sat in the heavy, been depressed, stared at the ceiling at 3 a.m., and felt the unknowing like a tide that won’t let me step fully out. Some days I’m a beacon. Some days I’m a quiet, defeated kid. Both are true and both live in me.
To my tribe: y’all have kept me moving. To the family who held me, the friends who cooked for me, the strangers who sent kind messages, and the ones who simply showed up — I see you, I love you, and I don’t know how I’d be here without you. Mama didn’t raise no punk. We’ve got a hell of a fight ahead, and I’m ready for it. Ready to be messy, loud, tender, furious, and grateful — sometimes all at once.
So what does 38 look like? It looks like turning no’s into yeses. Trying new things at least once. Saying yes to the scary, the joyful, the unpredictable. It looks like choosing to romanticize life — Sage lit, playlists blasting, hugs held longer — buying myself flowers, wearing outfits that make me feel like THAT girl, making Sundays a whole ritual, especially even while I gear up for surgery and more unknowns.
[Continued in Messages]
SCREAMING HAPPY BIRTHDAY to our beautiful and amazing Editor and Chief , Creative Director, Model , Entrepreneur, Designer, Photographer… I can go on and on. You are such a source of light to everyone who encounters you Kam! Thank you for your strength, wisdom, creativity and love. We are so blessed to have you! I love you so muchhhh 😘❤️🦖🦕
Have the best day everrrrrr ✨✨✨
![: @ultraaashots#TNBCAwareness #TNBC #BreastCancer #Cancer #TNBCThriverHow is success measured in life? Don’t worry, there is no right or wrong answer to this question, as it’s different for everyone. I never envisioned working a 9-5, it was NEVER in my vision. I was always a creative mama. I always had this design of a dream. Me coming home to a big beautiful open floor plan mansion, from a business trip in Milan, styling Riri and her family for a photoshoot of course, hubby greeting me at the door with a giant hug and kiss with the kiddos following behind screaming “Mommy mommy! Look what I made!!” . Last August, that vision got a little blurred for me. After waking up one morning in a little pain, I found a lump in my breast. Didn’t think too much of it, consulted my family who told me I should get it checked out. Prior to that, I had no idea how rampant cancer ran in my family. My great granny was diagnosed with breast cancer in her 50s, & lived to be 94 so I wasn’t thinking anything out of the ordinary. 8/1/2024 was one of the numbest days I’ve felt in a while. After having difficulty getting an appointment through my primary care, they only have appointments available in December, SIX months from me finding the lump, I was finally able to get seen through Planned Parenthood (Shoutout to them!! ) 15 mins into the appointment, she found a lump, and not the same one that I had found. There I was, 36, 2 months shy of my 37th birthday, sitting on the edge of the chair in the doctor’s office, touching these two lumps, wondering what was coming next. The majority of the women in my family have had some lump, bump, or bruise biopsied, so I wasn’t worried, all have come back benign. That phone call on 8/1 shook my world. Everything I once knew, changed in a matter of moments. The months following I’d have countless appointments, countless blood retrievals, had to quit my job, my body was just tired, & my mental was slowly deteriorating. I was losing control of my life and I was feeling rushed with every thought. Thoughts about death were everyday for those first few months. Any moment, I could be taken from this existence… [ continued in comments ]](https://sp1.picnob.com/p/pt_6745192128572155241853_0_eadcef8868d86e96e9432ce082ff575f.jpg?o=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&h=b63923ac106717de97e1aeb26d315919)
![⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀“You’ll be dead within a year if you don’t listen to me.”That sentence — said by a doctor last August like it was punctuation — landed in my chest and rearranged everything. It taught me how loud a future can be when it’s suddenly uncertain, and how small the things that once felt massive really are.Since then I’ve lost 50 pounds (200 → 150), finished my Master’s, moved into a new place that actually feels like me, and been elbow-deep in creative projects I won’t stop showing up for. I’ve submitted my work to contests (most of which I didn’t win) and kept polishing anyway. I’ve stepped way out of my comfort zone — DJing at a real venue for the first time ever. I’m curating an intentional life, I celebrate wins out loud and whisper thank yous in my head. I try to be mindful. I try to be brave.But let’s not gloss over what’s real: a few weeks ago 4 new tumors were discovered — a local recurrence — and I have surgery AGAIN in two weeks. I carry grief like a carry-on I can’t check. I’ve sat in the heavy, been depressed, stared at the ceiling at 3 a.m., and felt the unknowing like a tide that won’t let me step fully out. Some days I’m a beacon. Some days I’m a quiet, defeated kid. Both are true and both live in me.To my tribe: y’all have kept me moving. To the family who held me, the friends who cooked for me, the strangers who sent kind messages, and the ones who simply showed up — I see you, I love you, and I don’t know how I’d be here without you. Mama didn’t raise no punk. We’ve got a hell of a fight ahead, and I’m ready for it. Ready to be messy, loud, tender, furious, and grateful — sometimes all at once.So what does 38 look like? It looks like turning no’s into yeses. Trying new things at least once. Saying yes to the scary, the joyful, the unpredictable. It looks like choosing to romanticize life — Sage lit, playlists blasting, hugs held longer — buying myself flowers, wearing outfits that make me feel like THAT girl, making Sundays a whole ritual, especially even while I gear up for surgery and more unknowns.[Continued in Messages]](https://sp1.picnob.com/p/pt_6721254062713616535839_0_aae11ccd36b9540983551f97326a00ed.jpg?o=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&h=6711b77aeb39ef9c2fb9cfeb8372fc96)
