When I was first diagnosed with Inflammatory Breast Cancer, I did buy some pink things. A “Fight Like A Girl” t-shirt. A silly pen with a pink ribbon on top of it.
I also received pink items and/or cancer items, and I have to say that I feel differently about those — especially the two pink shawls that were made with love and prayers for me. And the lap quilts that I received that include some pink ribbon material in them. Those are different — those were made and given with love; they’re not a marketing tool by a company that really mostly wants to promote itself by “doing good” and giving some (but how much?) money to breast cancer organizations. The necklace pendant that was given to me was sent with love by a very dear friend. Those items were given — and received — with much love.
Maybe the almost three years since I’ve been diagnosed have made me more cynical about all the pinkness that’s associated with breast cancer. Maybe I’m worn out by it all. Or maybe a good dose of education, including the fact that many products contribute extremely little to breast cancer research and cure efforts just did me in on Pinktober, as some call it.
Breast cancer, as others have said, is not cute. It’s not happy pink ribbons. It’s a deadly disease that’s already taken far too many people. One out of every eight women will get breast cancer in her lifetime. Every 69 seconds, some woman worldwide dies of breast cancer.
Those statistics scare me. In fact, those statistics are not taking into account all the other cancers that ravage people’s health at best and take them away from their loved ones at worst. Statistics have shown that one out of two men will get cancer in his lifetime; one out of three women will get some kind of cancer in her lifetime.
It’s not cute. None of these cancers is cute. They’re deadly, and if people really want to make a difference, it would behoove them to simply spend five or ten dollars (or whatever amount) and send it to a reputable cancer organization. Trust me, that organization will get more money that way than it will if you buy a breast cancer dragon figurine. Really.
Oh my gawd. That dragon makes me want to puke. You know, I could have sort of gotten into a ferocious-looking dragon, a fight-the-power kind of dragon. But that cutesy, precious thing? VOMIT.
I think it’s about time we spoke out about the cutesy, precious marketing. It’s so insulting to women with breast cancer and their loved ones. It’s patronizing and demeaning. You deserve better Judy, and I’m glad you’re speaking out about it.
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