Kimberly Zerkel: An interview with Mitzi Starkweather
Oct. 22—I arrive at Mitzi Starkweather's downtown photography studio feeling overcaffeinated and slightly underdressed.
The hallway leading to her door features portraits of local women in glamorous attire, each looking at the camera confidently. As I enter, I understand where some of their glow comes from. Mitzi's brick-exposed studio is an adult version of the dress-up box many of us flocked to as children. My eyes fall on a plush sofa covered with feathery pillows and soft throws. Along the wall is a clothes rack heavy with silk, satin and tulle.
My coffee-induced jitters are outmatched by a sudden urge to play. From around the corner pops Mitzi, who extends a warm hand to greet me. She's dressed casually (phew!). Her black pants match the orthopedic boot she is currently wearing, and her white T-shirt sleeve reveals a fresh tattoo down her arm.
I'm over feeling underdressed, but I'm still feeling antsy. Could we conduct the interview outside and get some fresh air?
Mitzi immediately agrees.
"You're advocating for what you need. That's good," she says. "More women need to advocate for what they need."
We take a seat outside on what is to be a glorious autumn day. Against this beautiful backdrop — and with the same poise I saw in the portraits upstairs — Mitzi lays out the series of events that led to her breast cancer diagnosis.
"I went to Italy in June for a photography workshop," she explains. "It was with some of my closest friends and mentors over 10 years. It was a small workshop at a castle in Italy. The day that the bus drove up to the castle, and I saw it for the first time, I had this feeling and a clear knowledge of the words: You need a photo of yourself in front of the castle in a billowing white gown and then you will learn what you need to know."
Two days later, Mitzi found herself "photo-running" in a white gown as a friend snapped away. But midsession, she felt a pop and vibration down her leg. Hours later, Italian doctors would reveal that she had ruptured her Achilles tendon and would need to stay and heal for the following five weeks.
Not only was Mitzi distraught that her workshop and upcoming stay in Paris was cut short, but she also knew that staying away from her husband and son for over a month was completely out of the question. She returned home as quickly as possible — but learned upon her arrival that she had COVID-19.
"I had to isolate for 10 days. Then I had to postpone my ortho appointment for my leg and my mammogram. Because I had found a lump in May," Mitzi continues.
On July 11, a month to the day after she ruptured her Achilles tendon, Mitzi was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer. The Instagram post announcing her diagnosis reads: "I feel like a bird that's been shot out of the air."
But her story, and that of so many individuals we recognize each October during Breast Cancer Awareness Month, does not end at detection. When presented with multiple courses of action, as well as kind but sometimes unwarranted advice, she stuck true to her favorite mantra — "Facts are friends" — and did her research.
Speaking with her doctor or getting a second opinion was one way she gathered data. But reaching out to the women she had photographed — some of the same faces that line her hall — proved to be crucial.
"I reached out to my clients because I've been doing women's portraiture for six or seven years now. I've photographed a lot of women who have had breast cancer and I've heard their stories. I had the benefit of learning from their experiences," she explains.
After one particular story from a client who said her daughter's childhood had been marked by her multiple lumpectomies, Mitzi decided to move forward with a bilateral mastectomy.
Throughout this experience, the downtown community — what Mitzi refers to as an adopted family — has rallied behind her and provided tangible support.
"We've felt so loved and so supported. When I needed rides, I called Holly Crane at Bookhouse Cinema or Kristen Radaker Sheafer from Frosted Cakerie," Mitzi says. "That's who this community is, that's who these people are. That's what this whole thing has shown me. It's shown me just how rich my community is."
A more recent Instagram post shows Mitzi, post-mastectomy, standing tall while wearing a pink ribbon around her chest, pink satin from her studio around her lower body and the same confidence that she procures from the women she photographs.
The caption reads, "For months now I've daydreamed about coming 'back.' But now I know there's no going back. Only forward."
Mitzi's appointment book is now open, and she's in her downtown studio once more. Beyond portraiture, she also plans to use her platform to relay her experience, encourage regular self-exams and promote self-acceptance.
I close by asking Mitzi for last thoughts.
"If you have anyone in your life who is going through cancer or a severe illness and they're making jokes, it's because they're tired of crying," she says. "If they're really sad, it's OK to be really sad with them. One of the most powerful things we can do with someone who is grieving is just holding space for their grief.
"Also, if you have breasts, check 'em."
Writer Kimberly Zerkel recently returned to Joplin after a decade in Paris and a number of years living in San Francisco. Contact her at news@joplinglobe.com.
