As a mother to three young children during her first battle with cancer, Siow Fei Foong found herself teaching them a difficult lesson: that care flows both ways
There is a particular kind of courage that announces itself not through grand declarations, but through the smallest, most unglamorous acts of persistence.
Siow Fei Foong understands this intimately. For years, her precise, measured voice carried the day's news across Malaysian airwaves. But when breast cancer arrived in 2011, and then returned a decade later as the more aggressive Triple Negative variant, followed most recently by thyroid cancer, she discovered that reclaiming one's voice is an entirely different undertaking than simply using it.
“I didn’t lose my physical voice during breast cancer treatments,” Siow reflects, “but the fear of uncertainty and the exhaustion of coping with side effects sometimes silenced my storyteller voice.”
What followed was not merely a return to form, but a complete rebuilding—a shift towards speaking “with more empathy, more pauses, and more reflections.”

Above For years, Siow Fei Foong’s precise and measured voice carried the day's news across Malaysian airwaves
Each diagnosis demanded its own reckoning. As a mother to three young children during her first battle, she found herself teaching them a difficult lesson: that care flows both ways. Mastectomy forced an even more profound reinvention. "Losing a breast is a big thing," she says plainly. "I learned to redefine femininity—that even with only one breast, I am no less than a woman."
When asked about resilience, Siow dismantles the myth of heroism entirely. It is, she insists, far more mundane: forcing down food whilst fighting nausea because the body needs energy. Looking into the mirror daily to familiarise oneself with a changing reflection. Allowing tears when they come, understanding them as necessary rather than weak.
“Crying can be a crucial part of the healing process, helping me process experiences and feel lighter,” she says.
The specter of recurrence—the perpetual "what if"—she handles with pragmatic grace. "If I were to focus on 'what if my cancer returns,' I would likely just live in fear," she explains. Instead, she acknowledges the shadow when it appears, prepares what she can, then deliberately turns back towards the present.

Above Through the Breast Cancer Welfare Association Malaysia, Siow found a community in other women who had walked the same path
Through the Breast Cancer Welfare Association Malaysia (BCWA), she found something invaluable: other women who had walked this path and emerged.
Since 1986, BCWA has operated on a simple yet powerful philosophy—that the experiences of one woman with breast cancer can mean a world of difference in the life of a newly diagnosed patient. “They showed me a future after cancer—the possibilities I couldn't see for myself," Siow says.
Sumitra Selvaraj, BCWA’s assistant general manager, sees this dynamic play out continuously. “The voices of survivors can help lift us beyond the noise,” she explains, “by promoting early detection, by sharing stories of their adherence to treatment and the acceptance they have come to in thriving with cancer—rather than fearing it.”
In 2024 alone, despite fundraising challenges, BCWA provided nearly 7,700 free clinical breast examinations and taught over 16,000 people breast self-examination techniques.
Today, guided by wisdom from a fellow survivor—“When I scored good grades, I never asked 'why me.' So when I was diagnosed with cancer, why should I?”—Siow has made her choice. She keeps smiling. Not because survival demands performance, but because happiness, she has learned, is something one decides upon. Even—perhaps especially—in the aftermath of everything.
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