Cancer is not pink.
You know something? Pink is my favorite colour and it always has been. I own a lot of pink things. If there's something I want to buy, and it comes in pink, I'll go in that direction, always.
But as much as I love pink, I've come to loath the image of that damn pink ribbon. You all know what I'm talking about. And we have just past the month when that fucking pink ribbon is everywhere. You can't go anywhere without seeing it. There does not seem to be a single company out there that will not jump on the “pink ribbon bandwagon”. I've seen the most ridiculous things coloured pink all in the name of so-called “breast cancer awareness”. Screwdrivers. Irons. Boxing gloves. Candy. You know those “5-Hour Energy Shots”, the drinks that (supposedly) give you that extra burst of energy? Even they've jumped on the pink ribbon stage, with their new “Pink Lemonade” flavour.
You know what? This may make me sound like a total bitch, but at this point, I don't care. The fact is: I am sick and fucking tired of all these pink ribbons. I am tired of people and companies trying to “beautify” breast cancer, to make it cute and sexy and palatable and.... pink.
Recently, a couple of convenience stores here in my small hometown have begun selling those idiotic “Boobies Rule” bracelets. They say “Nice Guns” in huge letters across them, and then have “Boobies Rule” written underneath in slightly smaller letters.
OK, great. Yes, boobies do rule. I'll agree with them on that. And, obviously, the body parts affected by breast cancer are breasts, so... I suppose in that regard, the bracelets make sense. But why is it that we don't see breast cancer bracelets that say “Breast cancer sucks” or something along those lines? Why is it that when products or campaigns are designed for breast cancer awareness, not only are the terms used for breasts reduced to slang, but the focus is squarely on the body part involved – instead of the women who (surprise, surprise!) just happen to be attached to those body parts?
When I was the head of the Women’s Centre at my university, I was responsible for organizing a certain number of events for Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I was more than happy to do it. But I quickly came to realize that my idea of fundraisers and campaigns were vastly different from that of the administration. They wanted me to organize events like “Paint the Axe Pink” (“The Axe” was the campus bar), where the entire place would be decked out in pink, everyone would be required to wear pink, and (my “favourite” part!) drinks would be served in BOOBIE MUGS. I shit you not.
And then there was the idea of a movie/discussion night, where we would screen a film about breast cancer and then hold a discussion afterwards. Great idea, right? Well – not really. My idea was to screen the documentary “The Breast Cancer Diaries” - the real-life experiences of an actual breast cancer patient, who filmed every part of her journey. What better way, I thought, to showcase the actual effects that this disease has on the women it affects?
I was voted down. The film, my Women's Centre co-coordinator and the administration felt, was too “depressing”. They felt that a more “lighthearted” choice would be better, and most likely draw a bigger crowd.
Their choice was the film “Stepmother”. You know; the one with Julia Roberts and Susan Sarandon? The one where they hate each other, but then they become best friends once Sarandon's character gets cancer during the last, like, half-hour of the movie?
Yeah. That one. THAT was what they showed. A movie in which cancer plays only an incidental role, and the type of cancer is never even mentioned. My choice was shot down for THAT. Because we all know that breast cancer is a bummer, and who wants to sit around and watch a movie about it?
I could tell you, too, about the “Save the Tatas” campaign – but to be honest, that one just makes me so angry that I don't even think I can go there. Tatas. TATAS? Jesus. Are you serious?
But as much as I love pink, I've come to loath the image of that damn pink ribbon. You all know what I'm talking about. And we have just past the month when that fucking pink ribbon is everywhere. You can't go anywhere without seeing it. There does not seem to be a single company out there that will not jump on the “pink ribbon bandwagon”. I've seen the most ridiculous things coloured pink all in the name of so-called “breast cancer awareness”. Screwdrivers. Irons. Boxing gloves. Candy. You know those “5-Hour Energy Shots”, the drinks that (supposedly) give you that extra burst of energy? Even they've jumped on the pink ribbon stage, with their new “Pink Lemonade” flavour.
You know what? This may make me sound like a total bitch, but at this point, I don't care. The fact is: I am sick and fucking tired of all these pink ribbons. I am tired of people and companies trying to “beautify” breast cancer, to make it cute and sexy and palatable and.... pink.
Recently, a couple of convenience stores here in my small hometown have begun selling those idiotic “Boobies Rule” bracelets. They say “Nice Guns” in huge letters across them, and then have “Boobies Rule” written underneath in slightly smaller letters.
OK, great. Yes, boobies do rule. I'll agree with them on that. And, obviously, the body parts affected by breast cancer are breasts, so... I suppose in that regard, the bracelets make sense. But why is it that we don't see breast cancer bracelets that say “Breast cancer sucks” or something along those lines? Why is it that when products or campaigns are designed for breast cancer awareness, not only are the terms used for breasts reduced to slang, but the focus is squarely on the body part involved – instead of the women who (surprise, surprise!) just happen to be attached to those body parts?
When I was the head of the Women’s Centre at my university, I was responsible for organizing a certain number of events for Breast Cancer Awareness Month. I was more than happy to do it. But I quickly came to realize that my idea of fundraisers and campaigns were vastly different from that of the administration. They wanted me to organize events like “Paint the Axe Pink” (“The Axe” was the campus bar), where the entire place would be decked out in pink, everyone would be required to wear pink, and (my “favourite” part!) drinks would be served in BOOBIE MUGS. I shit you not.
And then there was the idea of a movie/discussion night, where we would screen a film about breast cancer and then hold a discussion afterwards. Great idea, right? Well – not really. My idea was to screen the documentary “The Breast Cancer Diaries” - the real-life experiences of an actual breast cancer patient, who filmed every part of her journey. What better way, I thought, to showcase the actual effects that this disease has on the women it affects?
I was voted down. The film, my Women's Centre co-coordinator and the administration felt, was too “depressing”. They felt that a more “lighthearted” choice would be better, and most likely draw a bigger crowd.
Their choice was the film “Stepmother”. You know; the one with Julia Roberts and Susan Sarandon? The one where they hate each other, but then they become best friends once Sarandon's character gets cancer during the last, like, half-hour of the movie?
Yeah. That one. THAT was what they showed. A movie in which cancer plays only an incidental role, and the type of cancer is never even mentioned. My choice was shot down for THAT. Because we all know that breast cancer is a bummer, and who wants to sit around and watch a movie about it?
I could tell you, too, about the “Save the Tatas” campaign – but to be honest, that one just makes me so angry that I don't even think I can go there. Tatas. TATAS? Jesus. Are you serious?
Informative