The small but powerfully painstaking ants of Iñurri
The small but powerfully painstaking ants of Iñurri
Miren Cuerdo and Julene Illarramendi founded Iñurri to provide taboo-free support to women with cancer. The association quickly stood out for its feminist approach, which extends far beyond Gipuzkoa.
In their light-filled office in Usurbil, next to a colourful mural by Zumeta, Miren and Julene, co-founders of Iñurri (Basque for “ant”), look through photos of a weekend in Madrid with friends. Laughter, tapas, walks in Retiro Park… moments of simple joy. Except that this is the last weekend for Leire, 22, who is terminally ill with cancer. She smiles throughout. She passed away a few hours later in her hotel bed, surrounded by her mother and the ‘iñurris’ who had become her friends.
“If death could be beautiful, it was,” says Miren. Behind her, the association’s T-shirts display a meaningful slogan: Hil arte, bizi — Live until you die. Indeed, it is Iñurri’s mission to help sick women prioritise themselves, sweep away social dictates and live as they see fit. A feminist kick in the anthills…
How did Iñurri come about?
My mother died of cancer eight years ago. She was ill for 10 years. She refused to wear a wig, showed her tattooed breast and helped other women with cancer. When she died, I needed to do something, but I didn’t know what or how.
I started an Instagram account, and Miren contacted me. We met in a bar, Miren created a design, and we launched some T-shirts. They were an instant hit, and lots of women affected by cancer contacted us.
It is often said that a person does not die as long as they live on in our words. Iñurri is a bit like that: before, there was my mother with her ant tattoo, now there are lots of Iñurris.
How did you make a difference?
We started by listening to them, just listening. It was liberating to be listened to without that heavy compassion, to be treated like people and not like patients.
One day, one of them told us that the way we talked about the disease was feminist. We hadn’t even realised it, but it was true. Iñurri could only be feminist. That’s what makes us unique.
What inequalities do women face in healthcare?
One of the first women we supported was a 29-year-old Catalan woman. It took almost a year to diagnose her… She was told she was touching her breasts too much!
There is a real imbalance: men are always believed when they complain of pain. As for women, they always hear: “It’s stress, anxiety, hysteria!”
We quickly realised that we had to change the situation.
What happens after the diagnosis?
There is enormous aesthetic pressure. The first thing you are told is where to buy wigs, prostheses, or get micro-pigmentation. Of course, these things can be useful, but they are not enough.
Young women who are going through early menopause, which disrupts their sexuality, are left with no answers. This should be a free public service. The truth about cancer is that either you recover or you don’t. But in the meantime, you deserve to live well, don’t you?
And in their personal lives, how does cancer affect women?
A 2017 study published in the journal Cancer says that 20.8% of women with cancer end up being abandoned. Whereas when it is the man who falls ill, he can count on his wife. Women with cancer continue to take care of others, while many men shy away. It is time to stop taking care of everyone else except ourselves.
In your podcast Dragón Cáncer, Olatz Mercader recounts how, in the swimming pool showers, a little girl stared at her operated breast. Her mother told her to stop, but Olatz invited the little girl to ask her any questions she had. How does this moment reflect the importance of breaking taboos about the female body and illness?
It shows that you never see breasts that have been operated on in public! It’s great to have people like Olatz, who are empowered and comfortable with their bodies. “It’s a scar; I don’t have a breast anymore, so what?” And when people ask her, “How are you going to manage in the summer, wearing a dress?” she replies, “Why that question? Do you think the dress is going to run away?’
There is still a lot of work to be done in terms of education, not only with children, but with everyone. That’s how the idea for the calendars came about.
“When you have cancer, it’s like entering a factory: you’re placed on a conveyor belt and moved from chemotherapy to radiotherapy, treated like an object.”
How do these calendars, and your work in general, help women reclaim their bodies?
When you are told that you need to have a breast removed, the first thing you are offered is an appointment for reconstruction. And those who refuse often end up with an external prosthesis. It’s always the same logic: hide, cover up.
Many people imagine that a reconstructed breast is just like before, with a nipple and the same appearance as before. But the reality is very different. And some studies show that prostheses increase the risk of recurrence. We understand why women choose reconstruction to feel better about themselves. But what we’re criticising is that they’re not being told about all the options available to them, or about the consequences of their choices.
We empower women. Because it takes a lot of courage to say no when you are at your most vulnerable…
What do you offer that the traditional healthcare system doesn’t?
The idea was to create a network. The first point of contact is with us. Then we put women in touch with others who have had similar experiences. You understand each other better when you’ve been through the same things. We’re like a big tribe: 220 women (and one man!).
We have also just launched group therapy sessions with a psychologist. The idea is to provide support after treatment, during that period when you are supposed to be happy but feel bad: fear, your changing body… Nobody talks about it.
Why is the collective so important?
The Iñurris like to feel active: we support them, but they also support other women in return, and are making their own little revolution. They were the ones who initiated the association’s first projects!
When you have cancer, it’s like entering a factory: you’re placed on a conveyor belt and moved from chemotherapy to radiotherapy, treated like an object. With us, you’re not a number. You play an active role as a patient.
Tell us about a moment that captures the spirit of Iñurri.
During a retreat, a rather modest woman arrived wearing a thick turtleneck jumper. She always wore her external prosthesis, even though it hurt her (she had marks on her skin). On the second day, we organised a photo shoot. Everyone posed however they wanted. She posed topless, feeling liberated. At moments like that, you realise you’ve achieved something precious.
What would you say to someone who has just been diagnosed?
That we are here for them. When you find a tribe, everything becomes easier. The shit is still there, but together, it’s less shitty.
