Ash Davidson was diagnosed with stage 1 invasive ductal carcinoma, ER/PR-positive, HER2-negative, in October 2022. This is Ash’s story in his own words.
It’s that time of year again, when your candy corn turns a shade of Pepto, and everything from yogurt lids to NFL uniforms are a shade of pink. The pinkwashing is here. But this isn’t another scary movie.
It’s Breast Cancer Awareness Month.
A Breast Cancer Diagnosis
Getting diagnosed with breast cancer, during its own awareness month, was pretty annoying. Getting diagnosed with breast cancer, during its own awareness month, when they find a tumor during your gender-affirming top surgery, thus thrusting you back into a pink gown at the breast specialist’s office? Ironic! Or Iconic? Hilarious…and a little cruel.
I had top surgery on Oct. 6, 2022. I was diagnosed with breast cancer on Oct. 17, 2022. When my birthday rolled around a couple of weeks later, I celebrated that year by not telling most of the people I knew that I had cancer. I had chemotherapy, radiation and am currently on tamoxifen.
Complicated Feelings
The next year, October hit hard. The memories. Standing in front of my new life, one year later. Nothing familiar. Everything in question… everything was different. I was on another planet. And everything was pink. And everyone was so happy to remind me how lucky I was to have survived. “You’re so lucky they found it when they did!” Yep, lucky is exactly what I think when I hear “You have cancer.”
And that’s when I started noticing something: October isn’t just annoying. October has audacity.
It barges in like it owns the place. Pink ribbons, pink socks, pink bagels, pink cocktails…October doesn’t ask if any of this actually helps people with cancer. It just drops in, takes over your Spotify Top Mixes and blasts “Fight Song” for 31 days straight.
And honestly? That’s not far off from what it feels like to be trans in America right now. The audacity of showing up. Existing. Transitioning.
If October can strut around draped in pink boas and call it awareness, then let’s really serve awareness.
But let’s talk about that word, awareness. Is it really awareness if not everyone’s in the picture?
Breast Cancer Affects Everyone
Breast cancer affects nearly 320,000 in the U.S. in a year. But here’s what you won’t see in the commercials: transgender people, nonbinary people, men. We get breast cancer, too.
Trans people don’t always get timely mammograms, not because we don’t need them, but because the health care system isn’t built for us. And when you’re avoiding doctors’ offices out of fear, cancer doesn’t politely wait until you feel safe.
So, whose awareness is it, really?
When awareness is only pink, it erases. It erases scars from top surgery where tumors were found. It erases people who can’t find a support group that will welcome them. It erases anyone who doesn’t fit the pinkwashed image of “survivor.” It’s not awareness. It’s branding.
So this year, fine. Let October be sassy and pink, defiant and sweet. If October is Breast Cancer Awareness month, then it’s awareness for all people with breast cancer. Awareness means all of it: cis, trans, nonbinary. Stage 0 to metastatic breast cancer. Lucky, unlucky. Scarred, reconstructed, flat, tattooed, bandaged, drained. All of us.
So yes, October is haunted – by pinkwashing, by medical debt, by ghosts of diagnoses past. But it’s also haunted by me. Still here. Still trans. Still refusing to stay quiet or live in fear. If October wants to take up space, then I’ll take up more.
This year, October doesn’t get the last word. I do.
Listen to Ash’s story on Komen’s Real Pink podcast.
Statements and opinions expressed are those of the individual and do not express the views or opinions of Susan G. Komen. This information is being provided for educational purposes only and is not to be construed as medical advice. Persons with breast cancer should consult their health care provider with specific questions or concerns about their treatment
