How the Courier’s Crew Writer Maria Camila navigates vanity in the aftermath of surviving cancer
Jasmine Garcha (she/her) // Managing Editor
With files from Eugenia De Coss (she/her)
Maria Camila Davila was born and raised in Colombia. Diagnosed at the age of 13, she fought Ewing sarcoma, a type of cancer that targets the bones and is typically found in teenagers with no linking factors such as genetics or vices; “It’s more like—I will say—bad luck,” she shares. Through chemotherapy, radiotherapy and a hemipelvectomy, Davila fought for survival. In the midst of this, she notes completely shutting down. Cancer and chemotherapy both, in her words, “shut down” aspects of her body’s defence, and the mental weight did the same to every other aspect of her life; she was always sick, no longer attending school and saying yes to everything her doctors suggested because she didn’t care what it took to get better.
“My body was never the same after the surgery,” Davila reflects, referring to the initial hemipelvectomy. At the age of 15, her doctors found that radiotherapy created an internal wound, and so they conducted a procedure to clean it. During this procedure, doctors found that her bladder had “exploded,” as she puts it. Reconstruction procedures were unsuccessful, and she had to use a wheelchair and diapers for the second time—the first time being post-hemipelvectomy—which she describes as a regression period. “You don’t have dignity,” she says, explaining how that time of her life felt, “You feel completely vulnerable.” Although the cancer had long been treated at this point, the complications from her treatments kept her in and out of hospitals for years. She notes that this was the first time she noticed a change in her perception of herself.
Davila reflects on how vanity is shallow and rarely evolves over time, such as the expectation that women need to be skinny and keep their hair long to be considered attractive. She states, “I used to have short hair; I’ve never had long hair,” explaining that she didn’t present herself in a traditionally feminine way. She describes being perceived as more traditionally masculine among her peers. This—coupled with the internal knowledge of her queer identity—resulted in confusion during her formative years surrounding whether she was truly a girl. She remembers not ever wanting to be a boy, but questioning whether she was being a girl ‘the wrong way.’
“I was fat,” she goes on to say, “If I see my pictures, I’m like ‘What the fuck, I wasn’t fat.’ But, for everyone, I was fat. It was really usual that people would call me a boy.” She explains that she doesn’t remember a time when she was not on a diet. She later began using food as a coping mechanism in her teenage years. “It was the only thing that was making me happy,” she notes, explaining that “being still and eating” was the perfect combination of activities for someone who experiences pain every time they move. However, this activity resulted in a lot of weight gain that impacted Davila’s self esteem.
On top of this, visible scars and permanent marks that remain from her battle against cancer engaged the harmful aspects of vanity. Davila expresses that it became anxiety-inducing to look at herself in the mirror, as her body no longer fit the conventional standards of beauty. So, she began taking off her glasses anytime that she was unclothed in front of a mirror. She had to embrace her unique appearance as an important part of herself and a way to challenge beauty standards, as she realized that the people who love her will look beyond appearance.
During this time, Davila had a school trip to Italy. Refusing to miss it, she took her wheelchair and diapers and boarded the plane with the support of staff from her school. Upon returning to Colombia, the doctors found that her bladder had actually significantly healed on its own. “I always say, my mum, she’s really Catholic—all my family is—and I am a really spiritual person, but in really different ways,” she starts, “Praying is the supreme way of showing love, right? […] I really think it was that.” Attributing this victory to the prayers of her loved ones, she began going to school consistently again, although she was still in and out of the hospital.
While recovering, Davila started to deal with traumatic flashbacks of her procedures and the struggles she faced along her journey, but embraced those memories and experiences as a model of what it means to see the growth that stems from hardship. Davila acknowledges that her struggle and achieved wisdom allow her to connect and relate with children who have or had cancer or other health challenges during formative parts of their lives, when they have not yet discovered themselves. So, Davila told her mother she’d like to use the flashbacks to write a book about her journey. Her mother offered support, as Davila notes, “It was the biggest gift she’s ever given to me.” Davila hopes that by illustrating the details and her feelings, her experience will help people to look at their suffering and struggle with a sense of appreciation and the potential for wisdom.
Now, Davila is a student attending Capilano University who has to fight with the mental and physical struggle in the aftermath of beating cancer at the age of 13. Her journey goes beyond her survival of the battle to gain her life back; Davila is a remarkable example of how victory often comes at a price, showcasing how often one can gain something from hardships and limitations. Davila’s self image shifted as a result of her visible and psychological scars. She mentions that challenging oneself to familiarize themselves with viewing the body in an unconventional way can foster sensitivity and understanding for people like her, who have visible marks that deviate from societal beauty expectations.
Davila’s remarkable battle against cancer left her with complications that will negatively affect her everyday life, such as chronic pain and various health conditions. After what she experienced with her bladder, things proceeded relatively well given everything she went through. She was living in Canada, starting school and starting a new job. She recalls that recovering from cancer and distancing from that part of her life allowed her to explore and experiment with her femininity. She began wearing crop tops and embracing her appearance. “I can have short hair but also love my boobs,” she says, relaying the realizations she made during this time. Surrounded by love from the queer community, Davila notes that she finally looked in the mirror and found herself. No longer feeling the need to fit into gender stereotypes, she looked at herself and said, “I am Maria Camila,” announcing her chosen label.
While acclimating to her new life in Canada and her new home at CapU’s residence, Davila’s health suddenly deteriorated. She was back in a hospital bed, ambushed by similar feelings of confusion and uncertainty that she had as a child, going from navigating campus life to figuring out the Canadian medical system. Due to the chemotherapy and radiotherapy that she went through a decade prior, an infection grew within one of her legs, which Davila remembers as a terrifying experience. Not only was she sick again, she was sick in a foreign hospital without the comfort of her loved ones. She recalls her gratitude for the friends she made while living in residence, who became a big support for her during this time. However, she was still concerned about her ability to continue with her work and studies.
This process required difficult decisions and transparency with her teachers. Davila was relieved and grateful to have the support of her teachers in her creative writing classes. These teachers supported her by allowing her to talk about her feelings in her creative writing work, giving Davila a sense of relief and admiration of her own story from a third person perspective. While she was offered understanding and lenience, Davila realized that she would have issues remaining that she would face alone—including chronic pain—which she experiences in her back and her legs. To continue to thrive in her personal and professional life, she learned how to take care of and advocate for herself in the workplace. She was grateful and surprised when her employer understood her health situation and supported her to keep the job that she loved. Despite her medical struggles, she managed to continue her education and work with the support of those around her.
Davila’s battle with cancer allowed her to realize that each individual goes through a subjective experience that requires active listening to develop an understanding of. Staying positive is challenging when the marks on her body are a reminder of her continuing medical issues, and—as Davila explains—she also sought support for her mental issues that came alongside the physical challenges.
The knowledge that someone gains in the face of adversity is not a straight path to follow. Davila also expresses how her image and definition of a woman has changed through the difficulties and doubts along the way, describing that she no longer fights a ‘traditional feminine’ stereotype that doesn’t represent her. She describes being able to wear baggy clothes without feeling as though they make her less ‘woman.’ She not only fights to create a more realistic image of what it means to be a woman, but also, as a journalist, she challenges how women are expected to appear in the eyes of the media.
The aftermath of Davila’s struggle—including physical limitations and visible scars—is a journey that shows how life is not always just and fair. Instead of accepting her circumstances and allowing herself to be limited by her health issues, she decided to respond with perseverance and chose to face challenges with adaptability and bravery to ask for support. “When you’re a chronic patient, you know everyday can come with a different struggle,” she says, explaining that she was transparent with her professors about her medical conditions and managed to make every deadline on time, although she may have missed many classes. At the end of the semester, she told one of her professors, Andrea Actis, that she was apologetic for her absences, to which Actis replied, “You were always present in this class.” Davila notes that this was a beautiful moment for her and credits Actis for a lot of the support she received in this time.
Davila used the wisdom that she has developed into her work and studies, making her a person who could provide advice to people with chronic illnesses and significant scars. She explains being afraid of putting herself in a box when it comes to her work, of limiting herself to just being, “the girl that only talks about her fights and her cancer and her issues,” going on to explain her realization, “that maybe my purpose is to create common ground for people like me [who are] constantly fighting with their mental and physical health.” “It’s incredible the amount of relief that you can feel when you realize that someone else gets you and understands you,” she comments, “It’s another way to heal.”
Her struggles to see her body and feel good about it is a prime example of how society needs to question the idea of vanity and how we take care of our bodies. Davila encourages others to live life for themselves rather than trying to please others with their appearance. She says that it’s important to disregard the opinions of others when it comes to being happy with how she looks, and that she supports people being vain just for themselves. “Vanity should just answer to me,” she says, noting that it is a difficult process as people who are still in the world with the eyes of others, but that one’s own comfort and happiness is what’s most important. “Love has also been a good tool,” she says, explaining that the realization that she is loved and lovable no matter her physical appearance has been a freeing experience.