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Black Women And Breast Cancer: A Tale Of Racism, Sexism And Redemption

When the author, a black Cuban immigrant living in Spain, was diagnosed with breast cancer, she had to overcome not only the physical toll but also the daily humiliations by a medical system and society that treated her as a second-class patient. But then she decided to say, enough.

Black-and-white photo of a woman looking out a window

"I would like to say that everything can be overcome, but it is not true."

Antoinette Torres Soler

I have beaten cancer and I am grateful for that every day. I'm a 46-year-old mother of a beautiful nine-year-old Afro-Spanish girl, and with my professional aspirations half-fulfilled, I felt it was not fair to leave so many things undone.

So I have defeated breast cancer, but not racism, xenophobia or machismo. I've been quite stunned by the sheer volume of instances of prejudice I had to confront throughout this journey.

Among the bad habits brought on by COVID-19 is the irremediable lack of contact, the distancing from people and, consequently, the coldness in human relationships. When I received the news about my disease, I had to enter the medical appointment alone and, three meters away from me, the doctor and nurse dropped this little piece of news on me.

However, up to then, everything was normal within a pandemic context. Horribly normal.

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Ideas

García Márquez And Truth: How Journalism Fed The Novelist's Fantasy

In his early journalistic writings, the Colombian novelist Gabriel García Márquez showed he had an eye for factual details, in which he found the absurdity and 'magic' that would in time be the stuff and style of his fiction.

Colombian novelist Gabriel Garcia Marquez reads his book

J. D. Torres Duarte

BOGOTÁ — In short stories written in the 1940s and early 50s and later compiled in Eyes of a Blue Dog, the late Gabriel García Márquez, Colombia's Nobel Prize-winning novelist, shows he is as yet a young writer, with a style and subjects that can be atypical.

Stylistically, García Márquez came into his own in the celebrated One Hundred Years of Solitude. Until then both his style and substance took an erratic course: touching the brevity of film scripts in Nobody Writes to the Colonel, technical experimentation in Leaf Storm, the anecdotal short novel in In Evil Hour or exploring politics in Big Mama's Funeral. Throughout, the skills he displayed were rather of a precocious juggler.

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