Fu*k the cancer Facebook slacktivism

As a relative newbie to Facebook, I’m bemused by all the slacktivism. Share if you believe we need to cure cancer, like this page if you think society should stop animal cruelty, share if you think the best flavour at Gelato Messina is salted caramel.

It’s all pretty pointless stuff. Of course we want to cure cancer, yes animal cruelty is barbaric and who wouldn’t choose salted caramel over something as boring as peppermint choc chip? Any other answer is just crazy.

But yesterday I got angry.

You may have noticed red love hearts popping up on your Facebook feed. No comments, just the heart.

What does it all mean? Pre-valentine’s day prep? Are all your friends in love? Was there a sale on at the emoticon store?

Turns out it was for breast cancer awareness week.

Well of course it was. Everyone knows the best way to promote something is to do it via stealth.

What are the chances that the women who posted the pretty love hearts, who patted themselves on the back for doing their bit, actually went home and checked their boobs?

Forget the fucking hearts and spread information instead. How many women know how to do it? The best time of the month to do it? What to look for?

Let’s let go of the idea that only women over 40 should be checking their breasts and start them young. When we teach girls about their period, we should also teach them how to check their breasts properly so that it becomes an ingrained monthly habit.

Let’s start a conversation and get people talking.

People often ask me about my cancer and then look embarrassed, telling me I don’t have to talk about it if I don’t want to. But I do want to, because knowledge is power.

When I was diagnosed I sought out women who’d been through it, because I wanted to know as much as possible about what was coming up. I’m incredibly grateful to those who went before me for sharing their experiences and I do the same.

When people share publicly, whether online or via their celebrity it has more power because the reach is greater. It’s easier to explain my BRCA diagnosis because people always go, “Oh, that’s the Angelina Jolie gene.” If only I had more in common Ange than just a predisposition to cancer.

This week, I chatted with a woman who knew my story and wanted to share hers. She found a benign lump in her breast and although her mum had breast cancer and the BRCA gene, she didn’t know if she wanted to get tested for it. We spoke about our shared experiences of biopsies and mammograms, we discussed the pros and cons of being tested and, if the test result is positive, what to do next.

So forget the slacktivism and spread information instead.

 

 

 

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#letstalkaboutbreasts

A few weeks after my first chemo session, I got a call asking if I wanted to take part in a breast cancer awareness video.

Being a journalist, I’m normally the person on the other side of the phone looking for case studies to be in my stories, so I figured it was good karma to say yes.

It also helped that I still had a bit of hair left, so I was OK with being filmed. If you look closely you’ll see that the hair on my sides has gone, so it looks like I have a pink undercut. Totally badass.

Ignore the weird head tilt thing that’s happening, as a print journo I’m allowed to be wonky on camera, and focus on the message. Get checked. One in 8 women will be diagnosed with breast cancer, what’s so special about you that you think you won’t be one of them?