The Problem with Pink Ribbons

When I stumble upon one of those "pink ribbon for breast cancer" displays in a store, I immediately become enraged. Every idiot "racing for a cure" should be boiled in his own pudding and buried with a pink ribbon through his heart. (My apologies to Dickens)  My mother used to say, "the path to Hell is paved with good intentions".  Pink ribbons always remind me of that.

I have it on good authority that first of all, there's nothing pretty and pink about breast cancer. This July 14th, I will be a 12 year breast cancer survivor, so I am the authority to whom I refer. All of racing or walking and pink ribbons in the world will not restore my breast.  It will not save the breasts of my sister nor the breasts of your loved ones.

I have considered writing on this subject many, many times before.  But  this article , " Susan G. Komen for the Cure makes mockery of self with KFC pinkwashing campaign (opinion)", is the catalyst for today's post.  Author, Mike Adams, has addressed the absurdity of this campaign in a way that resonates with me and that explains why the Komen and KFC pairing is ridiculous on so many levels.  His article reiterates what has been bothering me most about all this pink ribbon nonsense; how many cancer-causing products proudly sport the "breast cancer pink ribbon"?  I've seen it on everything from shit to shineola.  It's sickening.                                     

Pink ribbons, fund raisers and racing for cures are for sissys.  At best they're an easy ego booster and a possible write-off at the end of the tax year.  A person can donate and participate without the emotional burden of actually getting involved with someone suffering the affects of this horrendous disease.  One can maintain a comfortable distance and still sleep soundly at night feeling that they've done something positive towards "the cure". 

 I know, I know, you want to shake your finger at me and argue the benefits of these programs to which I am so adamantly opposed.  Well, I say this to you.  Ask the father whose wife has died from breast cancer leaving him behind to raise their young daughters if he would rather you "race for the cure" or take the time to help his pre-teen choose a dress for her first dance.  Ask the 65 year old woman if she would rather you make a donation in her name or show her how a breast prosthesis looks and feels.  Ask the husband who can't get time off work and whose wife is home alone vomitting after chemo if he would like you to stay an hour or two with her or purchase some pink ribbon products.  Ask the breast cancer patient if she would like a greeting card in the mail from you or if she'd rather have an acknowledgement from the Susan G Komen Foundation. 

 Life is full of choices and I think it's time that a critical look is taken at these so-called support groups and campaigns.  If money and "cause organizations" were the answer, I don't think Jerry would have any kids.   Jerry's been "entertaining for a cure" since 1966.   His 44th telethon ALONE raised $65 MILLION!  Where's the cure for MDA?  Think about it.  Perhaps these huge organizations and charities aren't the best you can afford to offer to combat the effects of breast cancer.  Maybe a more direct effort is a better choice.

I have plenty of pink ribbon momentos given to me by good intentioned friends and acquaintances from my own  breast cancer experience.  I have necklaces, rhinestone pins, ribbon clad bears, mugs, notepads, you name it.  I hate them all but I've kept them tucked away in drawers and boxes because they were given to me in the spirit of loving support and with good intention.  I once heard a commedian say that the last thing Jesus wants to see when he comes back to earth is a cross.  I think he was right. I certainly feel that way about the Susan G Komen craze and those damned pink ribbons.  And although I can't prove it,  I'm pretty sure the path to Hell is lined with pink ribbons. 

KFC Photo: nydailynews.com