Pink Ribbons, Inc is the first
major work that I know of to directly take on the big business of
American Breast Cancer “support”, and as such is long overdue.
Way back in the bad old days (which
continued right up through the 1970s) breast cancer was a shameful
secret, even more taboo than other cancers, but that hasn't been true
for a long time now. Instead, the idea of breast cancer as an
epidemic that can strike anyone—not only the unclean, careless, or
gender non-conformists—has been mostly accepted, and its
“survivors” have come to be celebrated and idealized as
“warriors” and “heroines” rather than hiding their medical
histories and dealing with the after-effects of treatment alone.
This is a change that began in the
activist community—with women who were themselves affected, who saw
the lack of research and awareness and prevention, and took action to
make a change. The first breast cancer activism was tied directly to
the feminist movements of the 1970s, and successfully changed the
standard treatment of the day—disfiguring radical mastectomies
which were performed unnecessarily and often left the patients
disabled. High profile activists such as the Boston Women's Health
Collective pushed for self-exam knowledge, and scores of other groups
and individuals took action to draw attention to the links between
environmental devastation and the toll on women's bodies. While the
gender determinism contained in metaphors likening the bodies of
women to the earth is problematic, the metaphor remains powerful and
moving. As our earth is poisoned, just so are our bodies. The
Alchemist principles of likeness—as above, so below; as we treat
our home, so we also fare—are resonant in the devastating epidemic
we now face.
But as all this work succeeded in
drawing mainstream attention to the cause, things changed. The Susan
G Komen foundation moved to the forefront of the fight, soon joined
by the Estee Lauder cosmetics company, and the message quickly
changed from prevention to “awareness.” Over the years, breast
cancer awareness has become a multi-million dollar business, assuring
profit for any company willing to slap the iconic ribbon on their
packaging and claim to be “working for the cure.” Since the early
1990s, billions of dollars have been raised and hundreds, if not
thousands, of studies and foundations have been funded. So surely
with all these survivors around, it's a that sign things are
improving, right?
Wrong. The increase of survivors has
one single tragic source—an increase in breast cancer cases. Today,
one in eight American women will be diagnosed with invasive breast
cancer. Fifteen years ago the number was one in ten; thirty years ago
closer to one in twelve. In the 1950s it was less than one in thirty.
Of these women, one in three will die of the cancer. Despite all the advances in
medications and treatments and screening, this number is nearly
unchanged over the last forty years, except in communities of color,
where the mortality rate is climbing.
So where is all the money going, and
what is it doing? Enter Pink Ribbons, Inc, a much needed
exposé of the business of breast cancer awareness. The documentary
filmmakers trace the history of the pink ribbon and the organizations
that use it, as well as the history of breast cancer itself and its
treatments. But the heart of the movie is interviews with women who
are on the front lines of the fight against the disease as doctors,
activists and patients. The amazing Barbara Brenner of Breast Cancer
Action says everything I never even knew I wanted to, brilliantly,
and too many other women to name bring their varying perspectives to
bear on the state of breast cancer today. I can't recap it; instead I
beg anyone with the slightest interest in activism, breast cancer,
feminism or just keeping up with current events, to go see this
movie.
However, no movie is perfect. I had
some issues with this film. A movie of this kind is, naturally, not
made from a place of disinterested objectivity. Emotions are sure to
run high; and so they do. The filmmakers have some strong feelings on
the business of pink ribbons, and while I don't blame them, I have
some issues with how they express it. I agree that the companies and
people who profit from this disease are cynical parasites who are
undeserving of respect. And one of the main ways profits are made is
through organizing events, such as walks and runs and pretty much
anything you can imagine “for the cure.” But that doesn't mean
these events are useless or the people who participate are foolish
patsies! I get that if you spend years researching these events and
where the money goes and to whom, you might get pretty bitter about
it, and I think it's terrible that people join up because they want
to help, to do something, and instead mostly become a source of
profit for rich capitalists. But, in my opinion, this is a case where
meaning well really does count! It's important to draw attention to
where the money goes—but it's also really important to recognize
that millions of people want to help, want to change things, and they
care enough to do real work to make it happen and make real
sacrifices. It's not useful to tell them they've been had—we need
to honor their intentions, and find ways to make that commitment
count, to channel that energy towards real change.
I believe that's what the filmmakers
intend for this movie to do. I saw it at a screening attended almost
exclusively by survivors* and there were tables of activist resources
in the lobby and so forth. But I think the execution was botched.
There's a real thread of disdain throughout the film for the women
who find solace and strength in these events. And this wasn't only my
own feeling—the Q and A after the film showed that many of the
women who had come to see the movie felt attacked and defensive. Even
I, an anti-capitalist and someone who had never participated in any
breast cancer events, felt defensive. I have never had any illusion
that the pink ribbon on the scissors for sale at Office Max was doing
anything useful for me; but during the early days of my diagnosis and
treatment, seeing that stuff, even the most egregious examples, did
feel a little good to me. It made me feel that what I was going
through was recognized, that my suffering and fear were acknowledged
and that millions of people didn't want this to be happening to me,
wanted to help keep it from happening to any more women. It felt like
feminism. I have at various times worn pink ribbon pins and had a
magnet on my car—not to support the Komen foundation, but so other
sufferers knew I cared, and as a shorthand—a way of saying, “hi
there, this happened to me, also. You are not alone.” You may feel
that I was buying into to something useless—but I think it had some
value. Not by random chance, but because however much it may have
been co-opted and diluted, the symbol of solidarity is an idea with
roots in something real, with real value.
Anyway, one of the audience members at
the screening said something that broke my heart as much as any of
the terrible stories or statistics in the movie. She said
(paraphrased), “It's terrible that these walks don't do more good
financially, but that isn't the only good they do. The feeling of
being part of a huge crowd marching through downtown, filling the
streets, is just so great! We need that feeling in addition to doing
activist work.” I wanted to cry. I have never heard a better
description of the ways in which the activist community is failing.
People think that activism means signing petitions and stuffing
envelopes and that it's a chore; what they want is camaraderie and
support and commonality, so they look elsewhere. This is a tragedy.
In case I need to spell it out; it is taking action with like minded
people that provides these feelings. We should not need corporations
to repackage that feeling, that set of circumstances, and sell it to
us. The unfortunate truth, however, is that there is a void which
these corporate entities are filling. This is not the place for a
detailed discussion of this, but the fact is that activism in this
country has become something that isn't accessible to people
who are ill, are busy, are raising kids, or who just don't want
to make it another full time job. The problem is more than simple
misrepresentation of what it is like to participate (though that is
also a problem); it is also a reality that people are being forced to
turn to watered down versions of militancy in their attempts to make
the change that they can see is desperately needed. So should we
condemn them for trying? No, we need to look to ourselves and ask why
they turn elsewhere, what we, the activist community, are not
providing that others are.
Of the women interviewed in the film,
it is Barbara Ehrenreich who speaks with the most bitterness towards
the status quo of breast cancer industry. It was her 2008 essay Smile
or Die: the Bright Side of Cancer that
inspired the filmmakers and led to the making of this movie. She
wasn't the first to try to draw attention to the state of the
industry, but she was the most prolific, and her piece inspired a
flood of (long overdue and very useful) articles and hand-wringing
about pink teddy bears and toxic products being marketed as
supportive of “the cure.” While she makes mostly excellent
points, not just about where the money goes but also about the
infantilization of women implicit in many of the tchotchkes offered
to patients, I think it's important to remember that she writes not
as a journalist, though she is one, but as a breast cancer patient.
Meaning, she has very strong subjective feelings and reactions, and
it is bothersome to me to see these feelings presented as facts, or
as universal, or as something that it would be desirable to have be
universal. It's regrettable that she felt talked down to or belittled
by the way the information she found was presented, by the branded
products and inspirational platitudes and chipper encouragement. She
has good reason for these feelings, she expresses very clearly why
many women react this way (including myself, at times); but not
everyone does. The reason this stuff is so pervasive is because many
women find it helpful and supportive of their needs, and we need
those women in this fight too. It isn't useful—or, well, nice—to
alienate them. I believe it's anti-feminist to ridicule other women's
choices, and I feel that this movie, and in particular Ms.
Ehrenreich, does that. I don't think it's intentional, but I do think
it's a failing.
That said, however,
I'm more glad than I can say that this documentary is out there. I
hope it is the first of many projects and campaigns to draw attention
to the issue and to the hard work that has been being done for years
by dedicated people around the world, and I hope it sparks a surge of
energy to address the real roots causes of this terrible scourge and
to find real solutions and strategies for prevention. At the very
least, I want everyone I know to see it, and to tell their friends to
see it, to understand more about what I'm facing and to put it in
context. This movie does that, wonderfully. Please go see it. And
then, when you have, let's talk about how to improve on it, how to
make things better.
note--
*I'm not a huge fan of this term, but
for lack of a better, equally recognizable one, I use it here
