October of my junior year of high school, my dad uttered words I never thought I would hear. It was a Sunday evening; I was in my room. I heard him holler, “Family meeting in five!” I was elated. My sister and I had been begging my parents for another dog: This was the moment; I felt it in my gut. I scurried downstairs, failing to contain my excitement. Once everyone was present, my dad took a breath and said, “Your mom has cancer.” I was gut-wrenched. Cancer was no longer something I heard about — it was in my living room, sitting across from me.
In the spirit of Breast Cancer Awareness Month, I wanted to emphasize how awareness saves lives. Campaigns and education programs don’t just spread facts and raise funds, they remind people to watch their health. Wearing a pink ribbon might be seasonal, but breast cancer is not. It lives on in houses, doctors’ offices and waiting rooms where families await test results with bated breath.
Statistically, 13% of biological females will develop breast cancer within their lifetime, while less than 1% of men will. With 84% of breast cancer diagnoses affecting people over the age of 50 — around the age of many of our mothers — it is important to be aware of the risks.
Why should people our age care? Some may argue that breast cancer should not be a concern for young people. Statistically, there is only a 16% risk of women under the age of 50 receiving a diagnosis. While many of us are focused on navigating adulthood, battling mental health crises and careers, it is easy to see why our generation’s attention is elsewhere. The thought of cancer is something we put aside until we are older — why focus energy on a threat that statistically seems low?
Alarmingly, the number of young people being diagnosed with cancer is growing. Between 2012 and 2022, the incidence rate in women under 50 being diagnosed rose 1.4% each year. Although the probability of diagnosis remains low, women under the age of 40 are 40% more likely to die from breast cancer than women over the age of 40. Despite the risk of diagnosis being smaller, the risk of dying from that diagnosis is frighteningly higher. The reason: Young women do not receive routine screening. The cancer is more advanced at diagnosis, making it more aggressive and difficult to treat. It is unrealistic to get screened for everything at a doctor’s office, especially when the risk is low. However, because young women do not require screenings like those over 50, it is important for them to know the symptoms and their personal risks, as they may be more susceptible than others.
Breast cancer is not like the flu, where you feel intense symptoms for a period of time and then resume everyday life. Depending on the stage and diagnosis, treatment and ramifications vary. Treatment can include chemotherapy, radiation, mastectomy and hormonal therapy. To many of us, these are simply concepts. We don’t know the implications. To the people experiencing these treatments, it means anything from nausea, nerve damage or even feeling like they have lost who they are. Although the five-year survival rate for breast cancer is 91%, the effects, whether physical or emotional, sit with a survivor for the rest of their life. Beating cancer is not the end. Learning to live life with aftereffects is the reality.
Equally important are the marginal disparities between biological females of different races and ethnicities who are diagnosed. Mammography screenings lead to accurate detection of smaller, more curable cancers. Institutional racism has created a barrier to receive access to screenings and quality cancer care: Black and Hispanic women are more likely to report barriers in receiving these screenings compared to white women. Once these women are diagnosed and require care, the disparities persist. There are differences amongst surgeries, treatments and delay in treatments.
Even if everyone had equal access to healthcare, marginal disparities would persist. Genetics play a crucial role in breast cancer risks and outcomes. Black women have a 5% lower risk of developing breast cancer than white women, but a 38% higher risk of dying from it. White women have the highest risk of breast cancer compared to all other ethnicities.
Since that family meeting, the words “your mom has cancer” truly sank in; it changed how I saw the world. Awareness is not just statistics or having a pink out football game; it is about realizing that every diagnosis — every story — belongs to someone’s family. The pink ribbon may come and go, but those of us who have been closely surrounded by cancer will carry that ribbon everywhere we go.
