Ericka Hart Talks Pleasure, Reconstructive Surgery, and Being a Hot Cancer Survivor

15.09.2026, 18:21 allure.com

The inaugural season of Allure Perspectives will explore one of the most controversial and medically researched parts of a woman’s body: breasts. Through expert interviews, personal stories, and historical context, the podcast series, hosted by editor in chief Jessica Cruel, will examine how breasts intersect with beauty, health, identity, sexuality, and culture. In our third episode, Cruel talks with sex educator and breast cancer survivor Ericka Hart about breasts as an erogenous zone, the nipple double standard, going topless in public, and much more. Subscribe wherever you get your podcasts for new episodes every week.

Ericka Hart, a sex educator and author, began her career in teen pregnancy prevention in New York City. The experience inspired her to go back to school and ultimately create her own sex ed curricula (which she’s taught at the elementary through graduate levels) because she felt like traditional sex ed classes had shameful undertones. “This doesn’t feel like we’re actually reaching folks and making them feel good in their bodies,” Hart recalls of her thinking when she first realized she wanted to become a sex educator. “We’re just scaring them.”

Since then, Hart has made a career (and cultivated a large following) out of spreading shame-free messages about sexuality, gender identity, disability, and chronic illness both inside and out of the classroom. Hart is a breast cancer survivor who underwent a double mastectomy as part of their treatment and is adamant about diverse breast representation. “Not all breasts have nipples,” they say simply.

In the third episode of Perspectives, Hart speaks with Allure editor in chief Jessica Cruel about the need to recenter pleasure in sex ed, how a cancer diagnosis changed her relationship with her breasts, and how posting topless photos became an important part of her activism.

Hart’s sexual education was centered around abstinence, a method they now believe does a great disservice to the people attending the classes. “A lot of our sex education protocols are rooted in keeping people from information, but making it look like they have it because they’ve attended this class,” Hart tells Cruel. “Maybe they know what the reproductive system is, but they don’t actually know what consent is.”

Breasts, Hart has found, are rarely brought up in those traditional classes, even though they can play a huge role in enjoying sex—or not. “In terms of erogenous zones, I think it’s important to talk [about] breasts and nipples and also the fact that you might not experience any pleasure there,” Hart says. Hart often asks students to really consider: “Is this something that actually feels good to you, or do you think it feels good for the other person?”

Hart got the diagnosis call while walking down the street in New York City. “I just kinda sat down on the bench and everything went silent,” they recall. “The only thing I could muster was, ‘Am I gonna die?’” Hart says getting the diagnosis, in ways, was also relieving. “Waiting to hear back about your results is treacherous.”

Although Hart had been vigilant about doing self exams since her mother passed from breast cancer, it was Hart’s ex-wife who found the lump that ultimately turned out to be cancerous. “This happens a lot in queer, lesbian dynamics,” she says. “Another person who may also have breasts finds the lump. They’re like, ‘I touch these all the time. This doesn’t feel right.’”

Hart had just gotten a full-time job as a sex educator at a non-profit that would give them health insurance, but was still in the probationary period where the benefits hadn’t yet kicked in. “I had to meet with HR two days after being hired to say, ‘Hey, I need those benefits now but also I can’t work for, like, a month and a half because I have to have a double mastectomy,’” Hart recalls. “I worked all through chemo, which was hell, but that’s the reality for so many people.”

When the breast cancer surgeon told Hart they’d need to have their breasts removed, Hart just thought, “Get this cancer out of me.” The fact that she didn’t feel much sadness around the impending mastectomy, “I think was the beginning of me realizing that I’m non-binary,” she says. “I’ve never had this connection to my breasts in that way.”

However, Hart was diagnosed six months before she was supposed to get married and felt like she needed something to feel good in the dress that she’d already picked out. Hart had no problem losing her hair to chemotherapy—“I’ve been bald before. That’s not a problem”—but being flat-chested didn’t feel affirming. After her double mastectomy, she had breast reconstruction surgery.

“I went to dress appointments with [surgical] drains,” Hart says. “The seamstress was an angel and would hold the drains so I could see what I looked like in the dress. It was a really, really tender time.”

Hart opted out of nipple reconstruction surgery or tattoos and says that now, 14 years in remission, they like their breasts more than ever. (Though she does have a little nipple envy now that showing some nip through a shirt is fashionable. “That’s kinda hot, right?” they say. “Damn, my scars are never gonna become erect.”)

Hart’s first viral topless moment was at AfroPunk in 2016. “In that moment, I just wanted to make a difference,” they say. “I just wanted people at AfroPunk to see me and my scars and to see what breast cancer looks like, in particular in Black, queer, and trans people, because there’s not a lot of advocacy, still to this day, that’s directed toward us.” Hart recalls that people would come up and ask what happened to her, which opened a conversation about breast cancer.

Since then, Hart’s continued to go topless in public and post topless photos, in part to draw attention to the nipple double standard. Famously, nipples on male-presenting people are rarely censored—online or in real life—the way nipples on people with breasts are. “It’s bullshit,” Hart says, noting that they believe people who breastfeed in public or post photos of breastfeeding are impacted most. “Showing that you’re feeding your child is controversial [but] cis men who are topless doing pushups or whatever they do online … nobody is having any issues with that,” she says.

Hart, who has a 3-year-old child named East, says they did mourn their nipples when they were trying to get pregnant and realized they could never breastfeed. East was in the NICU for 31 days when they were born. “A big part of the NICU is knowing how to suckle and knowing how to feed before you’re able to leave,” Hart says. “I wish I was able to have that connection.”

She also says having a kid made her feel different about being topless. “I feel much different in my body now as a 40-year-old who’s three years postpartum than I did after breast cancer,” Hart says. “Pregnancy and childbirth truly rocked me more than anything I’ve ever experienced.” They say it’s not that they don’t like their body, but they do feel more protective of it. “And I guess I feel more mindful that my child eventually is gonna find out that I’ve been naked all over the internet.”

When Hart does post topless photos, they’re rarely taken down by the platforms, and she can usually argue to get them restored when it happens. This raises a whole different issue, where Hart’s scars seem to turn her into inspiration porn for some. “I think that comes from the desexualizing of disabled and chronically ill bodies,” they say. “People are saying constantly, ‘You’re so inspiring.’ And I’m like, ‘And I’m also pretty hot.’”

Cancer, Hart says, doesn’t mean that your sex life ends, something they wish was addressed more often in medical settings. “I remember getting this big notebook with all the side effects of chemotherapy. It was massive.” But there was nothing in there about how it could affect her sex drive. “I asked my oncologist, ‘What about my vaginal lubrication or my libido?’” She was, after all, about to get married. “He said, ‘OK, I have to get back to you on all of those things.’” So, did Hart’s sex life change after her cancer treatment? “No,” they say. “I’m still pretty much a freak.”

For the rest of the interview with Ericka Hart, listen to the full episode below or on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or wherever you listen to podcasts.