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Sick of pink?
Oct. 5th, 2006 10:30 amOh teh nooes. I'm being Not Very Nice about Breast Cancer Awareness Month.
For the most part, I'm against wearing awareness ribbons of any sort. I used to wear a red ribbon, for AIDS awareness, back when people weren't that aware about AIDS. But there's a good argument to be made for awareness when you're talking about a stigmatized disease with a lot of bizarre myths around it. I was also wearing a ribbon, I might add, in the days before those annoying rubber bracelets came into fashion. I have one in my pocket that someone gave to me at a demo. It's a white one. Make Poverty History. I fling it at people when I'm bored. As if some rubber bracelet made in a sweatshop is going to do a damned thing for poverty.
The worst awareness campaign I can think of is the one where Republican chickenhawks slap Support Our Troops ribbons on their Hummers. But a close second is the pink ribbon campaign. I can't stand it. Some people are very emotionally invested in it, and I understand. Cancer is horrible, overwhelmingly, mindbogglingly horrible. You feel helpless, and you want to do something. Along come the corporate shills, trying to get you to buy something pink, promising that you'll be helping to cure breast cancer if you buy their stuff.
Breast Cancer Barbie, courtesy of Feministe
Cancer is natural. The massive increase in cancer rates that we're seeing is not. It is more common in industrialized countries than in non-industrialized countries. Very few people ask why. Very few people have much to say about these seemingly altruistic companies that donate a sliver of the massive profits that they make to "awareness" campaigns (or, on occasion, to a legitimate research foundation).
Breast Cancer Action singles out BMW as one of the participating companies that makes a product that gives people cancer. But the same point could likely be made for many of the companies involved with pink ribbon marketing campaigns.
If one honestly wishes to stop people from dying of cancer—and this is a laudable goal; there's nothing I want more—then one, of course, wants a cure. But prevention is also important. And particularly in the U.S., the cost of treatment is important. I might not be quite as hostile to the pink ribbon if more money went to helping women without health insurance pay for treatment. But helping poor women who have cancer now survive long enough to get the mythical cure doesn't seem to be a high priority for the pink brigade. If the cost of treatment was factored into this campaign of awareness, we'd forced to examine some uncomfortable questions. A white American woman is more likely to get breast cancer than a black American woman, but the latter is more likely to die of it. A cure is meaningless if no one can afford it.
The pink ribbon campaign, as Ehrenreich points out in her article, also normalizes cancer. Breast cancer becomes a natural part of life, a right of passage for every woman. There is a danger in normalizing disease, in joking around that, "well, everything causes cancer; we're all going to die of it eventually." We become passive, placid, when what we need is action and advocacy.
Some of this money is going to research, and that's good, but the money also funds massive PR campaigns, which is why companies agree to participate in the first place. It foists the duty to maintain good health upon the individual ("Get squished!") and on the private sector. You buy the products, the companies belch out carcinogens, and if you're lucky, one day, someone will sell you a cure. Ultimately, we can't spew so many toxins into the air. We can't consume so much. The pink ribbon campaign asks us to consume more.
The reaction to the original post in![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
metaquotes (which I believe was from a cancer survivor) was mixed; many people could relate, many more were hostile. I wonder at the hostility, because these are basic questions: Where is the money going? Which organizations are being supported, and what are they doing? Are they concentrating on finding a cure or improving treatment? Are they assisting uninsured or low-income women?* Is a single pink cent directed at lobbying for pollution reduction initiatives, clean energy, the banning of growth hormones in livestock?
Of course, you ask these sorts of questions and you're immediately attacking cancer patients, non-profit groups, and kittens and puppies. Which I'm not. By all means, give to legitimate organizations directly—they need it—but medical research should not rely on individual charity for funding. And we owe it to everyone who's ever sat in a doctor's office and heard, "I'm afraid I have some bad news" to ask if these pink teddy bears, pink bracelets, pink golf clubs, pink cancer Barbies (hair and boobs included, of course) are doing any good.
* And this isn't just an issue in the U.S. Even in countries with relatively sane health care systems, your treatment may be covered, but how many people can afford to take time off work?
For the most part, I'm against wearing awareness ribbons of any sort. I used to wear a red ribbon, for AIDS awareness, back when people weren't that aware about AIDS. But there's a good argument to be made for awareness when you're talking about a stigmatized disease with a lot of bizarre myths around it. I was also wearing a ribbon, I might add, in the days before those annoying rubber bracelets came into fashion. I have one in my pocket that someone gave to me at a demo. It's a white one. Make Poverty History. I fling it at people when I'm bored. As if some rubber bracelet made in a sweatshop is going to do a damned thing for poverty.
The worst awareness campaign I can think of is the one where Republican chickenhawks slap Support Our Troops ribbons on their Hummers. But a close second is the pink ribbon campaign. I can't stand it. Some people are very emotionally invested in it, and I understand. Cancer is horrible, overwhelmingly, mindbogglingly horrible. You feel helpless, and you want to do something. Along come the corporate shills, trying to get you to buy something pink, promising that you'll be helping to cure breast cancer if you buy their stuff.
Breast Cancer Barbie, courtesy of Feministe
Cancer is natural. The massive increase in cancer rates that we're seeing is not. It is more common in industrialized countries than in non-industrialized countries. Very few people ask why. Very few people have much to say about these seemingly altruistic companies that donate a sliver of the massive profits that they make to "awareness" campaigns (or, on occasion, to a legitimate research foundation).
Breast Cancer Action singles out BMW as one of the participating companies that makes a product that gives people cancer. But the same point could likely be made for many of the companies involved with pink ribbon marketing campaigns.
If one honestly wishes to stop people from dying of cancer—and this is a laudable goal; there's nothing I want more—then one, of course, wants a cure. But prevention is also important. And particularly in the U.S., the cost of treatment is important. I might not be quite as hostile to the pink ribbon if more money went to helping women without health insurance pay for treatment. But helping poor women who have cancer now survive long enough to get the mythical cure doesn't seem to be a high priority for the pink brigade. If the cost of treatment was factored into this campaign of awareness, we'd forced to examine some uncomfortable questions. A white American woman is more likely to get breast cancer than a black American woman, but the latter is more likely to die of it. A cure is meaningless if no one can afford it.
The pink ribbon campaign, as Ehrenreich points out in her article, also normalizes cancer. Breast cancer becomes a natural part of life, a right of passage for every woman. There is a danger in normalizing disease, in joking around that, "well, everything causes cancer; we're all going to die of it eventually." We become passive, placid, when what we need is action and advocacy.
Some of this money is going to research, and that's good, but the money also funds massive PR campaigns, which is why companies agree to participate in the first place. It foists the duty to maintain good health upon the individual ("Get squished!") and on the private sector. You buy the products, the companies belch out carcinogens, and if you're lucky, one day, someone will sell you a cure. Ultimately, we can't spew so many toxins into the air. We can't consume so much. The pink ribbon campaign asks us to consume more.
The reaction to the original post in
metaquotes (which I believe was from a cancer survivor) was mixed; many people could relate, many more were hostile. I wonder at the hostility, because these are basic questions: Where is the money going? Which organizations are being supported, and what are they doing? Are they concentrating on finding a cure or improving treatment? Are they assisting uninsured or low-income women?* Is a single pink cent directed at lobbying for pollution reduction initiatives, clean energy, the banning of growth hormones in livestock?Of course, you ask these sorts of questions and you're immediately attacking cancer patients, non-profit groups, and kittens and puppies. Which I'm not. By all means, give to legitimate organizations directly—they need it—but medical research should not rely on individual charity for funding. And we owe it to everyone who's ever sat in a doctor's office and heard, "I'm afraid I have some bad news" to ask if these pink teddy bears, pink bracelets, pink golf clubs, pink cancer Barbies (hair and boobs included, of course) are doing any good.
* And this isn't just an issue in the U.S. Even in countries with relatively sane health care systems, your treatment may be covered, but how many people can afford to take time off work?
