On June 29, 2017, a message arrived that changed everything. In a WhatsApp group of close friends, a woman called “C” shared a simple photo of her long, flowing hair. Her following words carried a weight no one expected: “In about three weeks, there won’t be any hair left. Breast cancer. Chemo, then surgery and radiotherapy. If everything goes according to plan, there will be stubble around Christmas. Luckily, I have you and know I can count on every single one of you when the going gets rough.”
The women in that chat had become friends years earlier, after giving birth around the same time. Their bond wasn’t just between them; it extended to their children, who had grown up together like cousins. That’s why the news hit so hard. Cancer wasn’t supposed to come crashing into their world. It brought fear, confusion, and that unanswerable question every family whispers in the dark: why us?
Days later, C made another request. She wanted her journey documented—not only for herself, but especially for her five-year-old daughter. She asked her friend, documentary photographer Patrizia Iaconisi, to capture the moment when she would cut her hair with her husband and child before chemotherapy took it away. She hoped that one day her daughter could look back and better understand what life was like during that time. And in the worst case, she wanted her daughter to have something lasting—tangible memories of their time together.
Patrizia agreed, though she admits she felt anything but ready. How could she photograph her dear friend’s pain while still holding the camera steady? Yet, when she arrived at C’s home for the first session, she was struck by the familiar warmth that greeted her. For a moment, it was as if nothing had changed. What did stand out was the child at the center of it all. At just five years old, C’s daughter brought a sense of normalcy that no adult could have mustered. She cared about ice cream, playtime, and her parents’ presence, not the looming storm of illness. Her laughter broke the tension, grounding everyone in the present. In her innocence, she made the unbearable a little lighter.
The session itself was emotional beyond words. Patrizia photographed the family as they carefully, lovingly cut C’s long hair. It wasn’t just a haircut but was an act of courage, a way of reclaiming control over something cancer was trying to take. Behind the lens, Patrizia fought her own battle to stay professional, her inner voice repeating repeatedly: “Concentrate. Stay steady.”
Afterward, the weight of it all hit her. It was unlike any project she had ever done. But in that pain, she also discovered a more profound truth: life is not only about surviving—it’s about being human, leaning on family, and summoning strength from the unlikeliest places. What began as a single request grew into a long-term photo project. Patrizia continued to document C’s journey, not from the perspective of illness alone, but from how this family lived through it. Her images reveal the struggles, resilience, humor, and love that defined their days.
C and her family refused to let cancer dictate the story. Instead, they filled their lives with support, courage, and hope. The photos show a household where love eclipsed fear, laughter often drowned out tears, and each moment together became its own quiet act of defiance. Perhaps the most powerful takeaway from the project is the reminder that cancer is not only about suffering. It is also about closeness, clinging to joy, and cherishing the bonds that hold families together. For C, avoiding tears was not denial but a conscious choice. She wanted her daughter to remember strength, laughter, and the everyday beauty of being alive, even when life was cruelly uncertain.
Ultimately, what Patrizia captured was more than a fight against an illness. She preserved the story of a family facing the unthinkable in their own way, with tenderness, solidarity, and an unshakable will to live fully.
