Cancer cult resistor

When I began this blog a little over a year ago, one of the first things I chose to write about was something that irked me the most. I'm talking about our culture's unhealthy obsession with professing a favorite Nascar driver, political affiliation or noteworthy cause via our vehicles. Lurking at the base of this compulsion is an ever-growing social movement that I like to call the Awareness Cult. These ribbon followers top the charts, but there are several other people out there who think you should care as much about their cause as they do, and they will focus all their missionary-like zeal into promoting it and perhaps at the very least guilt you in to donating by making a purchase, a portion of the proceeds from which will go to help fight XYZ.

I remember the day that I walked into my oncologist's office to have my blood drawn and saw that they too had fallen prey to the breast cancer ribbon gurus and were selling their magnetic and plush fetishes at the receptionist's window. When I made some snide comment during that visit about accepting the pink ribbon as one's lord and savior I was met with a stern look from the nurse. She then scolded me and told me that the cancer movement serves as a healthy outlet for the energies of the families who've lost someone to breast cancer.

I am not coldhearted. I empathize with the pain and hardships of other cancer sufferers. During chemotherapy I sat next to and befriended women with breast cancer and I have heard the stories as to what it does to one's body and spirit. Beyond the individual it also eats away at family, and it can truly test the vow, in sickness and in health. Cancer itself is deadly and, trust me, undergoing the treatment sometimes makes one wish he were head. Some breast cancer sufferers have to undergo the treatment for so long that the chemicals pumped into their bodies make their fingernails and toenails fall out, not to mention the hair loss, fatigue, endless nausea, phlebitis and so on. It is this very ugliness that makes me upset at the whole cutesy kitchy cancer cult.

I hesitate to be so forthright because my intent honestly isn't to piss people off or step on feelings, but if you're experiencing either of those things after reading this, let me point out that I'm not alone. Barbara Ehrenreich, a columnist and breast cancer sufferer herself, has written an article entitled "Welcome to Cancerland" about her own experiences and why she dislikes this whole momement. She writes:

"Culture" is too weak a word to describe all this. What has grown up around breast cancer in just the last fifteen years more nearly resembles a cult—or, given that it numbers more than two million women, their families, and friends-perhaps we should say a full-fledged religion.

I have to agree. She also brings up an interesting point about how there's a certain infantilizing to the whole thing what with the teddy bears and all. I've had testicular cancer. No one gave me a matchbox car.

But on the eight day Lance created the yellow bracelet.

Lance Armstrong falls into the same category as Martin Luther, Joseph Smith and David Koresh as far as I'm concerned. He wasn't content to just join the trendy religious movement of his time, so he had to go and piggyback on it, put his twist on it and start his own. So as to maximize the number of followers, he proclaims that his livestrong bracelets aren't just in support of one particular cancer (after all, who wants to wear a piece of jelly jewelry to support ball cancer?) but instead all cancers.

Splinter sects are already forming. I once found an internet sight dedicated to testicular cancer and the graphic in the upper left corner was a bicyclist complete with yellow jersey and helmet. It wasn't Lance Armstrong nor did it have any affiliation with him other than the fact that these people were obviously trying to ride his coattails (or whatever professional bicyclists have in lieu of coattails.)

I think most people who wear those cheesy bracelets have no clue what they're for. Though does it really matter? If you're really wanting to make your "non-profit" charity take off, you may as well aim for some bauble that will eventually be looked at as trendy and au courrant.

As soon as I start my own religion, Kevin Black and the Church of the Latter Day Miscreants, I'm going to come up with a fad that will sweep the nation.

Nay, the globe.