Breast Cancer Isn’t Just Pink
The documentary Pink Ribbons, Inc. casts a skeptical look at all those pink-branded efforts to raise awareness
A pink-striped sports car cruises down the highway. A female voice-over says enthusiastically, “When I was diagnosed with breast cancer, all I wanted to do was get into a Ford Mustang and go!”
The desire to flee, that I understand. I’m just not sure I’d complete the thought with “… in a muscle car that looks like Malibu Barbie’s.”
But as that television commercial for the special-edition “Warriors in Pink” Mustang illustrates, breast-cancer awareness is now big business, with the unnerving perkiness that seems permanently attached to any mention of the disease now firmly tied to any number of commercial products. There’s the pink KitchenAid “Cook for the Cure” collection (pink blenders, mixers, food processors, and mini-choppers), Glamor Glints pink rhinestones, ribbon-shaped fingernail appliqués, breast-cancer awareness alcoholic lemonade, and of course a pink Smith & Wesson handgun.
There’s even a “Buckets for a Cure” tub of KFC fried chicken. As the watchdog organization Breast Cancer Action’s site Think Before You Pink succinctly asks (about the pink chicken bucket, but hey, it’s a relevant question for all these products): “What the Cluck?”
The new documentary Pink Ribbons, Inc., which opened in New York and Los Angeles on June 1 and begins a national rollout on June 8, tries to answer that question. What’s the deal with the whole pink ribbon movement, and the related commercialized effort to “raise awareness” about breast cancer—a disease that’s of particular relevance to Ashkenazi Jews, who are disproportionately susceptible to it? Pink ribbons have garnered lots of attention and raised millions of dollars, but to what end?
The movie isn’t perfect, but it raises important points about how the pink-ification of breast cancer has come at a cost. It asks whether the vast sums raised are being used effectively; whether all those races and walks “for the cure” create an unrealistic portrait of breast cancer, waste money, and trivialize the disease; and whether companies capitalize on pink-ribbon culture to lure consumers while distracting attention from their own corporate sins.
Pink Ribbons, Inc. is based on a very smart book of the same title, in which Samantha King, a professor of gender studies and health at Queens University in Ontario, looks at the business of pink-tinted, P.R.-oriented, corporate, breast-cancer fundraising.
Unfortunately, the documentary meanders away from the book’s central issue into a thicket of related issues: the potential environmental causes of breast cancer; how little we really know about the disease or how to cure it; where the money raised by various organizations actually goes. Then the filmmakers devote time to the toxic sins committed by purportedly breast-cancer-friendly car manufacturers (use of plastics, promotion of a bad-for-the-environment product), cosmetics companies (stuffing lead into lipstick, petroleum into moisturizer, and formaldehyde into nail polish), yogurt companies (using milk with bovine growth hormones), pharmaceutical companies (producing not only cancer drugs, but also pesticides that cause cancer). To call this approach diffuse is charitable.
The film also addresses the tone of the campaigns to raise awareness, arguing that the go-team-fight chipperness of the pink movement insults women with Stage IV cancer (“There is no Stage V,” the main character of Margaret Edson’s play Wit says drily) who have failed, in the happy language of the pink-pimpers, to “win the fight against breast cancer” and “be a survivor!”
I appreciate the way the movie wrestles with so many complicated issues. But as with the movie Bully, good intentions only go so far.
The movie is most effective when it sticks to examples of pink opportunism. For instance, the yogurt company Yoplait has long run a promotion called “Save Lids, Save Lives,” in which you send in yogurt lids (but only the pink ones, and only during specific periods, and no, you can’t save your pink lids until the next period because Yoplait tracks the codes on them), and Yoplait donates 10 cents per lid to the Susan G. Komen For the Cure foundation. Which sounds great, except that a stamp costs 45 cents. Why wouldn’t you donate your 45 cents directly to charity instead of going through the creamy yogurt middleman? Furthermore, as King’s book points out, if you ate three pink-lidded yogurts a day for four months, you’d wind up donating a whopping $36. Or you could just write a check to the women’s health organization of your choice. Maybe even Planned Parenthood!
(And speaking of Planned Parenthood: Unfortunately for the filmmakers, the documentary was made before the poop hit the fan about Komen pulling its support from that organization. Fortunately for the filmmakers, Komen’s president Nancy Brinker appears in the movie and still comes off as a fine villain, exuding money, privilege, and unnerving agelessness as the chant “There’s not enough pink! There’s not enough pink!” emanates from her hypnotically glossy pink lips.)
It would have been nice for the film to spell out how Komen spends its vast money: Since its founding in 1982, it’s raised nearly $2 billion; yet as Komen’s revenues have climbed, it has spent less and less on research. (According to Komen’s own figures, today it spends about 21 percent of its budget on research.) There are other strange gaps in the film, such as the fact that it glosses over whether breast cancer is more deadly or more prevalent than it was in the past. We’re told that around the world, someone dies of breast cancer every 69 seconds, and in North America over 59,000 women die from breast cancer every year—but how have those numbers changed over time? The movie doesn’t say.
However, in keeping with the excellent “what’s everyone’s agenda here” aspect of the film, it does tell us that Breast Cancer Awareness Month was invented in the early 1980s by a P.R. guy at what’s now AstraZeneca, then the American arm of the largest chemical company in the world. The goal: Promoting mammograms and not-so-incidentally increasing the profit potential of the company, which not-so-incidentally, makes breast cancer drugs. But again, that begs the question: Is breast cancer on the rise, or is it just more frequently diagnosed thanks to the push of people making money off it? The movie does point out that early diagnosis doesn’t always lead to increased survival rates. Breast cancer manifests itself differently in different people—sometimes, early detection finds a cancer that never would have become life-threatening, which can lead to overtreatment and panic; other times, a cancer detected early (especially in younger women) still leads inexorably toward an unhappy outcome. These facts don’t fit with the happy-happy-joy-joy messaging of the pink ribbon brigade. But to me, these facts say that money is still needed for both research and treatment. If we don’t understand something, how do we fight it? The movie implies that funds are being misspent but doesn’t tell us exactly how.
The first female rabbi was ordained 40 years ago. Now my Florida synagogue welcomes a woman to its pulpit.