It’s almost October 1st, so I have something to say.

Actually, I have a lot to say.

October is Breast Cancer Awareness Month, which means we are about to see pink everywhere.

Pink ribbons. Pink shirts. Pink products. Pink packaging. Pink socks on football players. Pink social media graphics. Pink merchandise lining store shelves.

For one month, the entire world seems to turn pink.

And I have complicated feelings about it.

Before anyone misunderstands me, I am not against pink.

I wear pink.

I wear the ribbon.

I will proudly wear pink in honor of myself and in honor of my pink sisters. I am a member of the worst club with some of the absolute best members.

But I also believe with my entire heart that breast cancer needs more than a pretty pink ribbon.

There is a reason I named this blog More Than a Pretty Pink Ribbon.

Because it has always been more than that.

We Are Aware. Now What?

Breast cancer awareness has accomplished important things. Talking about breast cancer matters. Encouraging people to know their bodies, get appropriate screenings, and advocate for themselves matters.

But awareness cannot be where the conversation ends.

We know breast cancer exists.

Now we need action.

We need continued advances in treatment.

We need research that gives people more time, better outcomes, and someday, hopefully, cures.

We need financial assistance for patients who are trying to figure out how to pay thousands of dollars in medical bills while simultaneously trying to stay alive.

We need mental health resources for the trauma that can come with a cancer diagnosis and treatment.

We need resources for families whose entire lives are turned upside down by cancer.

And we desperately need more conversations about survivorship.

Because cancer does not magically end when treatment does.

The Part They Don’t Put on the Pink Products

This is the part of breast cancer that is harder to package in pink.

Cancer changed my life at 28 years old.

It changed my body.

It changed my family.

It changed my future.

It took my breasts. It took my ability to have more children. It forced my body into early menopause. Treatment left behind health problems and long term effects that I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

There were surgeries. Infections. Scars. Fear. Grief. Anxiety. Medical appointments. Body changes. And the strange experience of trying to figure out who you are after surviving something that changed nearly everything.

Surviving cancer does not mean you simply return to the person you were before cancer.

Sometimes that person does not exist anymore.

You learn how to live as someone new.

That is survivorship.

And survivorship deserves funding, resources, research, support and attention too.

So Let’s Talk About Pinkwashing

This is where my frustration comes in every October.

If a company wants to turn a product pink, put a ribbon on the package, or create a breast cancer themed campaign, I want consumers to ask one very simple question:

Where is the money actually going?

Is a meaningful portion supporting breast cancer research, patients or survivors?

Is it funding an organization doing tangible work?

Or is breast cancer being used as a marketing opportunity?

Pink itself is not the problem.

The ribbon is not the problem.

Wearing pink is not the problem.

The problem is when the appearance of supporting breast cancer becomes more important than actually supporting the people affected by it.

If breast cancer is helping sell a product, I believe we should be asking how breast cancer patients and survivors are benefiting from it.

And as consumers, we have power too.

We can look beyond the pink packaging.

We can ask questions.

We can research where our money goes.

We can support organizations whose missions align with what matters to us.

There are so many organizations doing meaningful work that could do incredible things with those dollars.

This Is Why Personal Ink Matters So Much to Me

One of those organizations is Personal Ink.

Personal Ink provides free mastectomy tattoos through P.ink Days, bringing survivors together with tattoo artists who donate their time and talent to create something incredibly special.

But if you have followed my journey, you know I will tell you over and over again:

It is not just about the tattoo.

I know because I have experienced it myself.

It is about walking into a space filled with people who understand pieces of your story without needing an explanation.

It is about community.

It is about connection.

It is about healing.

It is about looking in the mirror and seeing something different than what cancer left behind.

It is about reclaiming a body that may have spent years feeling like it belonged to doctors, surgeons, treatments and cancer.

It is about confidence.

It is about choice.

It is about taking something cancer changed and deciding what happens next.

For some survivors, a mastectomy tattoo becomes a way of saying:

Cancer does not get the last word.

That is why I believe so deeply in this work.

And we have big dreams.

Our goal is to bring P.ink Days to every state so that more survivors across the country have access to these experiences.

We are not done until we get there.

That takes funding.

Funding helps us create these events. It helps us reach more survivors. It helps us grow into new communities. It helps us continue creating spaces where survivors can experience connection, healing and the opportunity to reclaim a piece of themselves.

That is what I want people to think about when they see all the pink this October.

Wear the Pink. Just Look Beyond It.

I am not asking anyone to stop wearing pink.

Please wear it.

Celebrate survivors.

Honor the people we have lost.

Support the people currently going through treatment.

Buy the pink shirt if you love the pink shirt.

You will absolutely see me wearing pink.

But I am asking you to look beyond the ribbon.

Before buying something simply because it has a pink ribbon on it, take a minute to find out what that purchase actually supports.

And maybe this October, consider doing something more.

Donate directly to a cause that matters to you.

Support research.

Help a patient with medical expenses.

Support mental health resources.

Give to an organization focused on survivorship.

Support a small nonprofit doing tangible work in its community.

Volunteer.

Share someone’s story.

Ask where the money goes.

Do something that turns awareness into action.

And if Personal Ink is a mission that speaks to you, I would be incredibly grateful if you considered supporting us. You can donate through the link in my bio. Every donation helps us continue these life changing P.ink Days and move closer to our dream of reaching survivors in all 50 states.

To every person who has already donated, volunteered, tattooed, shared a post, attended an event, partnered with us, donated supplies, provided a meal, supported a survivor or simply told someone about what we do, thank you.

Truly.

I see you, and I am so grateful for you.

More Than a Pretty Pink Ribbon

I named this blog More Than a Pretty Pink Ribbon because that is exactly what breast cancer has always been to me.

It is more than a color.

More than a month.

More than a ribbon.

Behind every pink ribbon is a person.

A diagnosis.

A family.

A body that may never be the same.

A life divided into before and after.

There is fear.

There is grief.

There are scars.

There are medical bills.

There are long term side effects.

There is infertility.

There are changed relationships with our bodies.

There is trauma.

There is survivorship.

But there is also community.

There is resilience.

There is laughter.

There is friendship.

There is healing.

There is life after cancer.

And yes, sometimes there is even a beautiful tattoo where cancer once left a scar.

So this October, I will wear my pink.

I will wear it proudly for myself and for my pink sisters.

But I will also keep asking for more.

More research.

More resources.

More support.

More action.

More for the people living this reality long after October ends.

Because we are more than a ribbon.

We are still here.

And we deserve more than awareness.

Let’s make all that pink actually mean something.