Miss Pink Elegance
February 13th, 2011
Recently, a story about an upcoming fundraiser appeared in a Pennsylvania newspaper.
A local Susan G Komen for the Cure Foundation® affiliate is hosting a fashion show, luncheon, and auction fundraiser later this month. In addition, they are crowning the first “Miss Pink Elegance.” Event co-chair Joanne Arduino explains:
This year marks the first crowning of “Miss Pink Elegance,” an honor that will be awarded to the guest wearing the best pink outfit…Guests can come in elegantly or outrageously in pink,” she said. “The winner will be crowned Miss Pink Elegance the First. They’ll get a sash, a crown and a dozen pink roses. We’ll have someone who sings ‘Miss Pink Elegance.’ And she’ll strut down the runway.”‘
On first glance, the triteness of a fashion show and subsequent crowning seems an affront to the seriousness of breast cancer. If that’s all there was to it, this would be a simple matter of taste. Unfortunately, there’s more to it.
Sarah Horton, author of Being Sarah had some insightful thoughts about fashion shows in her book. She references a blogger, JaneRA, who wrote about the issue of restoring femininity post-breast cancer and about Audre Lorde’s insight into the concerted effort to hide the physical impact of the disease.
“… [I]t’s the message behind this that upsets some of us. Jane refers to the central London offices of a national breast cancer charity, and the photos on the walls of the previous models, all smiling…you can’t miss the point that ‘ultra feminine, attractive, youthful and happy’ is how you’re supposed to look after breast cancer… Audre Lorde calls this a ‘conspiracy on the part of Cancer Inc’ for women to appear ‘no different from before’ and show the world that ‘nothing has happened to challenge her’.” (pg 239)
A lack of gravitas shown by this and many other pink ribbon fundraisers is only the tip of the pink iceberg. Fashion shows, parades and other celebrations are popular because people want to feel good, to believe that they can both have fun and make a difference. Kitschy fundraisers become popular and propagate. Eventually the dominant message becomes that breast cancer is a playful celebration; that women can not only be restored to a societal image of beauty, but that they can be better than before. In this instance, the best assimilated, most fully restored person who receives the most votes will receive a sapphire crown, a pink sash and a happy serenade.
Harm is done to people who don’t fit this mold, who on top of having cancer receive blame for not surviving correctly. For many, the truth of breast cancer is not pretty. There are women who can’t or don’t have their bodies restored to their former glory. There are women who suffer greatly from side effects of the treatment, physically and psychologically. There are women, many women, who do not survive this disease at all. In fact, anyone who has received a breast cancer diagnosis is at risk for recurrence, for a metastatic cancer that won’t be cured. And there are women who are uncomfortable, for a myriad of reasons, with the mantle of triumphant survivorship. For many women the words “guilt, frustration and anger” represent breast cancer; not “pink, fun and elegance.”
Where do these women go for support? Who listens to them? Consider the words of Kathi from The Accidental Amazon.
“Fashion statements aside, once I became a person with breast cancer, it didn’t take long at all for me to develop a very low tolerance for all things pink. The sheer ubiquity of pink as the symbol of the fight against breast cancer is overwhelming. And one of the things that you discover… is that everyone … seems to assume that you are now the local poster chick…everyone assumes that you have the interest, time, energy, inclination and funds to contribute to or participate in every bleeping event, cause, or group that is even remotely associated with helping everyone else not end up like you.”
Kathi’s realities of living with breast cancer do not fit in a festive environment. This “Poster Chick” is supposed to fight cheerfully for herself and for everyone else. Gayle Sulik explains in Pink Ribbon Blues.
“Telling an authentic story about an illness that is heavily laden with cultural expectations about femininity, normalcy, and triumphant survivorship requires a new way of thinking and speaking. Falling on the margins of the cultural framework, these kinds of stories can be threatening and hard to hear. (p. 338)”
Many of us, the well-intentioned and generous people who have been affected directly or indirectly by breast cancer, want to think that all of the money we’ve spent, all the tears we’ve cried, all the pink we’ve worn has made the world a better place. But few acknowledge the less-than-pink truth of breast cancer: the indignities of a disease that still kills, can happen to anyone and has no cure. The number of people dying from this disease has barely budged in decades.
Until we change the narrative away from feather boas and pink roses, these petrifying facts won’t change. JaneRA, the blogger quoted by Sarah above, died in 2009. Audre Lord died in 1992. In fact, the WHO says that 460,000 people died worldwide from breast cancer in 2008. In Pink Ribbon Blues, Gayle Sulik states that despite more treatment given and more money spent, a woman “with invasive breast cancer has about the same chances of dying from the disease as she did 50 years ago.” (p. 159)
So where do we start?
Criticizing breast cancer fundraisers can be tricky. After all, what works for one person may not work for another. Empowering people’s authentic selves means making room for a diversity of opinions, but it also means speaking up fiercely against the agents of disempowerment.
Apart from the complexity of nuance, it opens you up to the risk of being labeled bitter, angry or plain ungrateful. This recent blog post labels people who question the dominant system “anti-pink.” Gayle Sulik, author of Pink Ribbon Blues, answers that claim. “Anti-pink is a call to ‘think about pink’–to look at all of the outcomes of how we as a society are organizing around the cause of breast cancer, the positives and the negatives, so that we might recalibrate our actions to make the most of the positives and minimize the negatives.”
We need to make room for the darker shades of color palate. We need to think about pink. Before being swept away by feel-good celebrations swathed in pink, consumers and philanthropists should ask themselves some basic questions.
- Where is my money going?
- What has the organization done to prevent or eliminate breast cancer?
- Does this organization support people with breast cancer at all stages?
- What is the organization’s mission and how well does it live up to it?
- Does the organization use evidence to inform its actions?
- Do I want to support this organization and its messages?
The answers to these questions might be uncomfortable and unpopular, but they are the only way to get to the truth and, ultimately, progress.
For more questions to ask, see Breast Cancer Action’s Think Before You Pink website.
Consider JaneRA’s final words in her posthumous post.
“[N]ot for you are the appearances in Fashion shows…airbrushing the reality of this disease into some designer must-have condition. You will decide on a harder more radical route … a movement will begin to challenge governments, and research scientists, the medics and the charities…
Winding forward to say 2050, I hear you talking to your grandchildren about the old days when breast cancer still killed, and generations of women died years too soon.”
Now we have a choice. Will we put our heads in the pink sand and lull ourselves into believing that fashion shows are good enough, or will we stand up and demand real change?
This entry was posted on Sunday, February 13th, 2011 at 11:45 pm and is filed under Fashion, Survivorship. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
Hello,
I’ll make it short, because your demonstration is exactly what we think, here in France about this pink
marmelade we have to swallow every time it is necessary ….
I hope I’ll survive to this disease, but my life depends on a percentage of survey…
And I learned through different blogs, texts; scientits works …that as you say the resarch on the cause of the breast cancer is slow …
) so why not a show !
Anyway I love pink and fuschia
Kind regards
Marie
I have finished the chemo, begin the rays but I work and keep smiling when I am not crying
Love from Montpellier South of France
souris quand tu peux, et pleure quand tu veux. je t’envoie mille bisous. xo
Breast cancer is not fun, it’s terrible. But yes, it did change my life. I support Susan Koman, I support pink and I don’t have a problem with wearing pink and doing fashion shows or anything else it takes to fight this beast. But I was NEVER angry. Sounds like the author of this is very angry. You have to stay positive or all is lost. I dont’ want to wallow in the fact that I have a high risk for recurrance and my body doesn’t look like it did when I was 21. I’ll just keep fighting. Anger gets you no freeking where.
Char I respect your point of view but until we have a cure for this wretched disease, I think we have a right to question whether what we are currently doing is in fact working for the entire breast cancer community. I am 40yrs old and have Stage IV breast cancer. Less than 2% of all fundraising goes to metastatic BC research. Quite frankly unless there is a radical change in how we approachbthis fight I really have no hope. Am I angry? You bet! I’m not going to pretend to be positive. I’m using my anger to question and demand something better. This is my reality. It’s not pretty and there is unlikely to be a happy ending. As a community we need to pull together and recognize that one size does not fit all and that ultimately women are still dying.
Warning: this will be long. I thought the pink ribbons were getting to be a bit much before I was diagnosed three years ago and I felt hounded by pink ribbons afterward (and that was in April! I probably would have run out of the store screaming in October.)I really think it’s beginning to resemble Christmas in merchandising and commercialism.
Char, I’m with you in being one of those glass half-full types. My personal journey is such that I felt like b.c. gave me a lot more than it took away. On balance, I’m grateful. But I was lucky enough to be diagnosed at 52 with stage 0. I went through five surgeries including a mastectomy so I’m not discounting my experience. But I can’t even begin to imagine what it would be like to be dealing with metastatic b.c. in my 30s. Why does it hit young women so hard? How can we help them?
I also firmly believe that there’s no right or wrong way to feel about our diagnosis. Telling me how I should feel is like telling me I should be six feet tall or have brown eyes.
With regard to Miss Pink Elegance: Personally, I’d rather stick a rusty fork in my eye than take part in a pageant, but I also feel like women who enjoy that sort of thing should get to do it. Just as there should be a place for the knuckleheads who might respond to that slow-mo chest-close-up beer-style commercial from a year or two ago that said “You like these. Save them.” We might actually get someone who never thinks about this to think about it.
That said, none of us, whether we’re using humor or fashion or something else, should ever lose sight of why we’re doing it and I think that’s where it gets worrisome. I do think people get too focused on the party and celebration and forget why. I’ve been on two Komen walks and seen all the feather boas and tutus, but what gets me every time are the In Memoriam T-shirts. That’s why it matters. Getting back to the Christmas analogy again, kind of like Jesus is the reason for the season.
Jackie, Excellent points, all of them. I agree wholeheartedly…have always have reservations about the “pink”–but figure to each her/his own. I think the overwhelming commercialism concerns me and ends up distorting the message. I do wonder how much of what is raised goes toward fighting the disease and doing other “good works” for women with breast cancer, and how much paying for the people in the organization? thanks for your balanced comments
Jen – with respect to Komen and the allocation of their fundraising please see my Recent “Komen By The Numbers” series of posts on my blog. for 2009 the amount of actual research grants was less than 21% of total income. The Education allocation was almost double the research allocation. . Education is great but it’s not going to result in a cure. See my blog at http://www.cancerculturenow.blogspot.com.
I don’t have any problem with all the “pink stuff.” I just want MORE along with it. I want more focus on research and cure. I also want more attention/dollars directed at metastatic cancers, all of them. I don’t want this issue to divide people. We are all in this together. We need everybody if there is ever to be real progress made.
This article is opening up a much needed discussion about why we do what we do when it comes to breast cancer, and what the results are. I’ve been thinking a lot about this, particularly since I wear a pink ribbon while critiquing the outcomes of what has become so commercialized and (in some ways) narrow. Why are the sexy, celebratory images marketed so strongly? How much money raised goes to research? What kinds of research? What does ‘awareness’ really mean, and what is the public aware of? Are other types of fundraisers equally valued, or do we focus on the fanfare to make other people feel good? What about those who do not feel good? I think these questions are worth asking. I think lives depend on it.
The issue about how breast cancer is represented has been dividing people for quite a long time, but many have kept silent out of fear of offending others. This is not to say that the festive environments aren’t exactly what some people want and need. But, what if we could do better? Be more inclusive? Ensure accountability of those in advocacy and the medical system? Increase the odds that the efforts made on behalf of the diagnosed actually have the results we need and want? Why not?
Right on Gayle. None of this feels good to me. Right now I have nothing to celebrate other than the fact, that questions are finally starting to be asked of a movement that seems to have no place for those who have failed to survive.