Please Don’t With the Breast Cancer Awareness.
I’m drowning in too much pink. It’s rank stuff. Before you get hypnotized by an NFL player wearing a pink-ribboned shoe — or a football fan, waving a pink towel in the stands, think before you buy anything pink. Consider the history of the pink ribbon.
Please don’t buy (or sell) a bracelet or pouf bag to “raise awareness” for my breast cancer! Donate directly to Breast Cancer Action, or a similar organization that is doing legitimate work instead. We don’t need more consumer goodies to stuff and fill our homes, we need research and a cure.
This short video from Breast Cancer Action is a fab start in getting more info on what breast cancer awareness is all about.
Folks think they are helping for a good cause, but these funds don’t always make their way to patients and researchers. Shopping for pink stuff in October greatly helps the bottom line of companies from Nordstrom, Wal-Mart, Estee Lauder, Ralph Lauren, to Stella & Dot. They make lots of money peddling a mountain of jewelry, t-shirts, lingerie, make-up, pajamas, sweatbands, silicone bracelets, socks, beanies, lip balm and flash lights.
Breast cancer awareness is not needed for those of us who live with breast cancer 24/7. I was diagnosed with breast cancer at age 39 and remain active in support groups for women who are in a similar medical state — we’ve had chemo, baldness, horrific skin rashes, constipation, genetic testing, hysterectomies and ongoing horrible side effects. I have written about Pinktober before, but this essay stemmed from my Sunday morning complaint on a listserv about feeling grumpy for seeing so many ads and sales for “awareness” — it’s also startling to see Ralph Lauren with boxing gloves on to demonstrate that he is in this “fight,” too. My fellow breast cancer pals had ideas and thoughts on how to proceed, and “ugh” is a common response — one member’s annual recommended read proved especially useful. I also adore hearing about the notion of rebranding October as Breast Cancer Action month instead. Not the organization but the verb. It’s a worthwhile idea.
Having companies profit off our collective suffering takes the 5-pound bag of Epson salts and dumps it on open wounds in harsh and crass fashion. No pink Polo shirt or eye cream can remedy that, trust! Often enough, these companies are selling products that may even cause cancer (gasp, right?!). Or a significant percentage of funds don’t actually go to a legit breast cancer organization.
Breast Cancer Action rocks a handy guide.
Critical Questions for Conscious Consumers (if you are reading this, chances are you’re in!)
- How much money, if any, goes to a breast cancer organization?
2. What organization and programs will your money fund?
3. Is there a maximum donation and has it already been met?
4. Does this product put you at an increased risk of breast cancer?
If you ever have the urge to send a breast cancer patient something with a pink ribbon, again the sentiment is kind, but it’s wise to ask if they want any pink ribbon items. Many would politely decline, and it’s admittedly an awkward thing to hear when you are just trying to help and show up for your friend or family member. You may learn about how these pink items make us patients feel — or at least realize that pink stuff is a worthwhile use of your time and money.
Please do NOT ask me if I will host or participate in any online Stella & Dot jewelry party to guilt my non-breast cancer friends into buying pink baubles in my honor. I spit out my coffee the first time a Facebook friend messaged me about this sort of shopping event. A second request came in later, and I again felt peeved. When I needed help during my active treatment, I set up MealTrain, so that folks could feed me and my family or send money for my bills. Meals and related care help me get through another treatment, another day of cancer and sweating it out on the toilet — jewelry hit ups don’t cut it. At all.
Stella & Dot sales folks, I don’t want any pals to buy products in my honor, or give me crap I don’t need. This sort of salesmanship silliness borders on rude. Me helping you sell is not (ever) a priority, and such a request helps me remember that it takes firsthand experience with cancer to start the process of finding out what is true and right when it comes to marketing campaigns, sales tactics and related ploys to raise awareness. There’s no way I’d have learned about the no-nos of pinktober without being diagnosed and put through the medical wringer. So the conversation begins.
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Mary Ladd’s writing has appeared in Healthline, Playboy, Time Magazine/Extra Crispy, San Francisco Weekly, Oakland Magazine, the Contra Costa Times, & KQED. She is co-author of The Wig Report, a graphic novel on medical crushes and catastrophic illness.
