Editor’s note: When Yas made her decision, life insurers in Australia could use genetic test results to influence eligibility or premiums, which could also affect family members listed under the same policy. For people like Yas, that meant facing a difficult choice between clarity and protection.  

Today, the Australian Government is progressing legislation to ban genetic discrimination in life insurance, a major step toward ensuring no one is disadvantaged because of their genes. 

“If you had an 87% chance of your Uber crashing on the way home, would you still get in? Or would you find another way home that day?” 

That’s how Yas explains her decision to undergo preventative mastectomy without ever taking a genetic test. Her reasoning was straightforward: too many women in her family across generations had faced breast or ovarian cancer. She had seen enough to act. 

“Mum was diagnosed with breast cancer when she was 44. I was 25,” she says. “My nan had it too, and her four sisters were all diagnosed with either breast or ovarian cancer. One of them passed away. So I always knew it ran deep in our family.” 

Cancer, for Yas, wasn’t whispered about behind closed doors. “It was dinner table conversation. I grew up knowing this was part of our reality.” 

When her mum was diagnosed, Yas made a promise. “I said to everyone, when I’ve had my children, I’ll have my breasts removed. I didn’t want to be the first statistic in the next generation.” 

Changing the odds before they changed her life 

Twelve years later, Angelina Jolie’s public story brought that promise back into focus. “I said I would do this at 25. Life got in the way. Now I need to do this.” The next day, Yas called her doctor. 

Her surgeon told her that, based on family history, her chance of developing breast cancer was about 87%. “I asked, what if I’m not BRCA1 or BRCA2? He said there are at least 23 other genes, and we don’t know enough about all of them.” 

That conversation confirmed what Yas already felt. “So even if I don’t have the gene, I’m still predisposed? That’s how I saw it. I wanted to take control before something took control of me.” 

To explain her thinking, Yas often uses a simple analogy. “Imagine you’re taking an Uber home, and someone tells you there’s an 87% chance it’ll crash, maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day. Would you still get in? Or would you choose another way home?” she says. 

For Yas, it was that clear. “If there’s a safer route, I’ll take it. I just wanted to change the odds.” 

She chose not to undergo genetic testing, worried that it could affect her daughters’ future insurance options. “My girls were six and seven at the time. I didn’t want to do anything that might impact their lives later. I decided I didn’t need a test result to know my risk.” 

Taking control of her body and her risk
 

Before her preventative surgery, Yas had kept up regular mammograms and ultrasounds with her sisters. “We’d make a day of it. The three of us at the clinic together. It was a sister date, but I didn’t love it. It felt heavy. I wanted control.” 

That control came in 2014, when she underwent a prophylactic bilateral mastectomy. “I didn’t see my breasts as tied to identity or femininity,” Yas explains. “For me, they represented risk, and I wanted to remove that risk.” 

At first, she planned not to have reconstruction. But when she heard that clothes might simply fit more comfortably with a small reconstruction, it felt like a practical decision. “For me, it wasn’t about looks,” Yas says. “It was about comfort and ease.” 

Reconstruction decisions are deeply personal. Every person approaches this differently, and each choice deserves the same respect. For Yas, having the information and freedom to choose was what mattered most. 

She prepared her body like an athlete. “I worked out until the day of my surgery. Food was medicine. My mind needed to be ready so I wouldn’t have a long recovery.” Within weeks, she was back on her bike. “I was riding again three weeks after surgery. It didn’t stop me living my life.” 

Leading conversations others weren’t ready to have 

Yas began writing about her experience to help others see that preventative surgery can be an informed choice, not one defined by fear or judgement. “I wasn’t looking for sympathy. I wanted to normalise the conversation: I learned my risk and took action.” 

Her writing led to speaking invitations and conversations with strangers who shared their own stories. “Some people were uncomfortable with how open I was. But that’s their discomfort, not mine. If I talk about it, it becomes normal. That’s how change starts.” 

She brings that same honesty into her professional life. “I’ve spoken on stages and shown my chest in front of hundreds of women. I said, this is what it looked like ten years ago, and this is what it looks like today. No nips, no worries.” 

Her goal is to help others feel comfortable with what’s real. “We all have scars, inside or out. Mine just happen to be visible. I won’t hide them.” 

When purpose leads, the path follows 

Yas’s openness has shaped how her daughters talk about cancer risk and health. “They were six and seven when I had my surgery. Now they’re 16 and 17. It’s still a normal conversation in our family. There’s no discomfort, no secrecy.” 

Her decision was always about them. “I didn’t want them to grow up watching cancer take more people we love. I wanted to be here as long as I can.” 

She often repeats a line that guides her work and life: “When your why is big enough, you’ll find the how.” 

For Yas, the why has always been her family. And the how was making her own certainty, before anyone else could make it for her.