Zuza Beine’s Light Outshone Her Battle With Cancer

24 September 2025

Zuza Beine, the 14-year-old content creator known for documenting a years-long fight with acute myeloid leukemia, passed away early September 22 after an 11-year journey that saw her share both pain and moments of joy with millions of followers. Her family broke the news on September 23 in a somber message on her Instagram account saying their hearts were broken and that her passing would change them forever. Among her final public words was a post just two days earlier in which she reflected on the little things she remained grateful for despite terrible pain, a quiet testament to how she tried to live fully even when illness weighed heavily.

Zuza began her fight when she was about three and a half years old. Over the course of her life she endured three bone marrow transplants. She recorded her medical journey openly sharing hospital appointments, setbacks, triumphs, and the daily disruptions cancer brought to her teenage life. At times she lost her hair, at other times chemotherapy dulled her sense of taste each effect became part of the story she offered to her followers. Yet she also posted about getting dressed, doing her hair, experimenting with makeup, and trying to feel “normal” even in the thick of treatment. She once admitted her deepest wish was simply to be a healthy kid.

Zuza was also a member of the Glow House, a content collective launched in early 2025 for Gen Z creators. Her participation in that group gave her a network of peers, opportunities for collaboration, and a platform to influence beyond her health narrative. Her presence online was not defined solely by illness she welcomed followers into her world with fashion content, lifestyle glimpses, and moments of teenage life. In the weeks before her death she posted a montage summarizing her cancer journey with a caption that said, “I’m in so much pain today I can’t take it.” That admission gained poignancy in the wake of her passing.

Zuza’s family asked that any donations in her memory go toward her uncle’s widow and children, as her uncle passed away just before she did. They framed her life as one defined by both suffering and beauty. Her announcement message acknowledged that she had changed them and that her death would do the same. In her final days she remained lucid enough to reflect and to express gratitude. Her recent posts had focused less on asking for sympathy and more on acknowledging love, memories, and small joys endured amid hardship.

The response from her community was immediate and heartfelt. Followers left tributes in comment threads, recalling how her vulnerability and honesty made them feel seen. Some said they were heartbroken. Others thanked her for teaching them what it looked like to fight with dignity, to be candid in illness, and to keep creating even when the body rebelled. “Rest in peace sweet girl,” one commenter wrote, capturing the sadness of losing someone so young whose story touched many.

Beyond her life and death lies a conversation about the burden of “bravery” in illness narratives. Many young people with serious disease feel pressure internal or external to be grateful, to be public, to be inspirational. Zuza’s story shows how that pressure can shape performance even in private suffering. Her openness meant that her growth, setbacks, and grief were witnessed by strangers, which might have offered solace to some but also exposed her to expectations that few the same age can bear. Yet even among that complexity she seemed to try to claim autonomy: to speak her truth, to show that love and pain can coexist, to frame her life not as tragedy alone but as presence.

Her journey also underscores the role of social media in transforming how illness is shared, consumed, and understood. Platforms gave Zuza reach and connection but also flattened nuance. In videos and posts, she could choose what to show but not always control how audiences would respond. She existed as much as content as she did as person. Her battles against disease were public battles, and that visibility amplified both empathy and exposure.

Zuza’s passing is a reminder that behind every feed, every smiling video, there may be stories we do not know in full. She was more than her diagnosis. She was a girl trying to live, to create, to connect, while under strain few can imagine. Her legacy will live in the memories she left, the conversations she sparked, and perhaps in how we hold space for young lives lived in pain and in beauty side by side.