Antwi • Patients & survivors
Support beyond treatment
Spaces to process fear, identity, parenting through illness, and the emotional realities of survivorship and life after treatment.
Sankofa • Why we began
From one Antwi to another, this is my cancer journey.
Dear Fellow Antwi,
If you are reading this while facing a diagnosis, moving through treatment, or trying to understand who you are after cancer, I want you to know that I see you. I know how quickly cancer can divide life into a before and an after. I also know that surviving can be far more complicated than simply being alive.
In 2020, while the COVID-19 pandemic was already filling the world with fear and isolation, I was diagnosed with Stage III triple-positive invasive ductal carcinoma. In an instant, I became the Antwi, the patient expected to absorb unfamiliar medical language, make life-altering decisions, endure treatment, and somehow remain strong. Beneath that strength, I was frightened, vulnerable, and uncertain about what cancer would take from me.
I was also a mother. Even as I tried to understand my own diagnosis, I was thinking about my daughter, Zara. I wanted to protect her childhood, reassure her, and continue caring for her when I did not know what my own future would hold. Cancer was not in her body, but it entered her life. She became the Ba, the child carrying questions, fear, confusion, and emotions that were just as real as my own.
My mother, Tanya, became our Hwɛfoɔ. She stood beside me through treatment and helped hold our family together. She encouraged me, helped with practical needs, and supported Zara while carrying the private fear of watching her own daughter fight cancer. Together, we were three generations living through one diagnosis from three different places: patient, child, and caregiver.
Cancer changed my body and challenged my sense of identity. I lost a breast, underwent a total hysterectomy, and faced the emotional weight of changes connected to my womanhood, motherhood, sexuality, and sense of self. Over several years and 13 surgeries, I moved through treatment, loss, reconstruction, infection, recovery, and the exhausting work of beginning again. Some wounds were visible. Others remained hidden long after the medical appointments became less frequent.
When active treatment ended, people celebrated because I had survived. I was grateful to be alive, but I also had to learn how to live in a body I did not fully recognize. I had to rebuild trust in myself, manage the fear of recurrence, grieve what had been taken, and discover who I was becoming. Survivorship was not a return to my old life. It was the slow creation of a new one.
Along the way, I realized that the medical system was treating my cancer, but our family still needed care. Zara needed a safe place to understand what was happening to her mother. Tanya needed support as a caregiver who was carrying responsibility, love, and fear. I needed space to speak honestly about everything that remained after treatment. We needed shared language, emotional support, faith, and a community that understood that cancer happens to the entire family.
This is why Sankofa became so meaningful to me. Sankofa teaches us to reach back, retrieve the wisdom and lessons we need, and carry them forward. I cannot change what happened to my family, but I can honor what we learned. I can use our experience to help another Antwi feel less alone, another Ba feel seen, and another Hwɛfoɔ feel supported.
A Chiles’ Journey of Love Foundation grew from that purpose. What began as one of the most painful chapters of my life became a calling rooted in love, faith, truth, resilience, and healing. If you are still finding your way through your own journey, please remember this: you do not have to be strong every moment, your healing does not have a deadline, and you do not have to walk alone.
With love, understanding, and purpose,
Asisa Chiles-DickersonFounder, Executive Director & Survivor Advocate
