My mom is a member of the Los Angeles Pink Dragons, a dragon boat racing team of breast cancer survivors. She has been paddling with the Pinks for about a year now. Last night, one of her teammates passed away after a long battle with breast cancer. Frances was my mom’s benchmate on the boat. On the Pink Dragons’ Facebook page, Mom writes: “Frances, your courage and determination was an inspiration to all of us. Your teammates will miss you so. Rest in peace, dear friend.”

Then scrolling down through my Facebook newsfeed, I was accosted by another heartwrenching message, this one from Bright Pink founder Lindsay Avner: “My heart breaks upon learning of the loss of Rebecca, a member of the Bright Pink Vermont family, who lost her battle to breast cancer at only 29 years old.”

29 years old.

Frances and Rebecca’s deaths are just two of many breast cancer-related losses I often hear about, but the news NEVER gets easier to swallow. Frances could have been my mother; Rebecca could have been me. I thank my lucky stars that my mother and I are both healthy and thriving, but two families are hurting right now, and though I did not personally know either woman, I am hurting, too.

These amazing women did not have the chance that I had to say “NO WAY” to breast cancer before it could come knocking. My BRCA mutation robbed me of a lot: the ability to be carefree, the trust I had in my body, and of course, my breasts. But it gave me something too: the chance to save my own life.

I’m a previvor. I survived my predisposition to breast cancer. If you’ve been following my blog, you know it hasn’t been an easy road to walk. I would not wish it upon anyone, especially a young woman like me. But it was necessary.

As more women learn about the BRCA mutations (and other rare genetic mutations linked to breast cancer), they are faced with the difficult decision to undergo prophylactic surgeries. They have questions. They have concerns. They are scared. And sometimes, they feel like they have no where to go, because there is no one who understands.

There is, though. There is a whole community who understands–you just have to turn on a computer.

Yesterday, Emperor Zuckerberg and his droids over at Facebook shut down part of that community. Young Previvors was a group of nearly 200 women just like me. It was a safe haven away from judgment and fear where high-risk women could ask questions, voice concerns and share stories of hope.

Young Previvors helped me when I was initially shocked by the unevenness of my new silicone implants. I shared my photo, and was soothed by the outpouring of support from women who had over time seen improvement in their own implants.

I helped women on Young Previvors, too. I described the early signs of my cellulitis infection and how I finally got my Jackson-Pratt drains taken out. I reached out to other young women, college students who were just learning about their cancer risk.

Now we need your help.

We don’t know why Facebook shut down Young Previvors. The group was not at all public; on the contrary, the privacy settings were very intense and all members were pre-screened by the group founder/moderator. Only group members could view posts from Young Previvors.

Please “like” our new page on Facebook. Share the page with your friends and ask for their “likes” too. On Twitter, tweet the hashtag #SaveYP and retweet the message from Young Previvors. You could even email Facebook directly: disabled@facebook.com.

We hope that these efforts from the public will show the people over at Facebook that this group is crucial. Isn’t the point of social networking to connect, to form a community? We did that. Why did Facebook punish us?

If just one young women like me does not find the support she needs because Young Previvors is gone, then it will be a huge loss.

Thank you so much for your help. I will keep you all updated on the progress of the group’s restoration.

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