Every October, the world turns pink. Supermarkets stack pink-labelled water bottles. Banks drape pink ribbons across their logos. Even the mannequins wear pink scarves, and we are told to “think pink,” to buy pink, to post pink.
Behind this glossy glow of goodwill lies a truth that’s far less glamorous: the global pink economy has become a billion-dollar business that thrives on emotion and optics — while too many women are dying in silence, waiting for drugs, diagnostics and dignity that never arrive.
This is “pinkwashing”—the sanitising of a devastating disease through feel-good marketing that raises visibility but rarely accountability.
Awareness is not the problem. In fact, early detection has saved countless lives. The problem is that awareness without access becomes an empty promise.
In T&T—and across much of the Caribbean—breast cancer remains the leading cancer among women. Patients talk of chemotherapy drugs that are out of stock. Machines break down for weeks. Patients wait months for biopsies, results, appointments or surgery. Some die not because their cancer was too advanced, but because the system was too slow.
It is hard to “fight like a girl” when you can’t even get your medication. A pink T-shirt is not chemotherapy. A bake sale is not a mammogram.
Companies sponsor glamorous “awareness events,” sometimes donating a fraction of profits to “support breast cancer research.” But how much of that money truly funds research, and how much funds marketing budgets?
Patients still face inequity in drug access: newer targeted therapies remain out of reach for many Caribbean women. It’s the cruel irony of pinkwashing; a colour that was meant to unify now conceals inequality.
We are told to be brave, to be strong, to wear pink and smile. But strength is not a colour. Strength is a mother taking a maxi taxi to Port-of-Spain for treatment because she can’t afford gas. Strength is a nurse holding a patient’s hand when the morphine runs out. Breast cancer is a mirror reflecting the cracks in our health system. Trinidad’s patients can’t easily access advanced imaging like PET scans.
Start asking questions.
Does the company clearly state how much of the proceeds are going to breast cancer research or support services?
Are they transparent about where the money goes? Is the company involved in any year-round initiatives that focus on breast cancer, or do they only come around during October?
Let us support and empower breast cancer survivors, non-governmental organisations or small businesses that are making a real impact. You will not only get a meaningful product but also contribute to a community of resilience.
A painless lump to the armpit or breast, nipple discharge and skin changes are common symptoms. While the incidence is much lower, men should be aware of potential symptoms and undergo screening if needed. Breast cancer does not discriminate based on gender.
Some key risk factors include being over 40 years, a family history of breast cancer, the use of hormone replacement therapy (HRT), starting your period early or having a late menopause and not having children.
A major new study has found that women who miss their very first breast cancer screening have a 40 per cent higher long-term risk of dying from the disease. The research, published in The British Medical Journal and involving more than 400,000 women in Sweden tracked for 25 years, shows that women who skipped their first mammogram were more likely to miss later screenings, more likely to be diagnosed with advanced cancer, and ultimately more likely to die from it.
Experts say the lesson is clear: starting screening at age 40 and keeping up with it every two years can be lifesaving. Regular self- or clinical breast exams, mammograms and ultrasounds from the age of 40 assist early detection. Breast cancer prevention isn’t limited to screening; adopting a healthy lifestyle can also make a significant difference. Regular exercise, a balanced diet, limited alcohol consumption and avoiding smoking are essential.
Breast cancer doesn’t only attack the body—it dismantles families. Many women lose their jobs, their hair, and sometimes their homes. Some hide their diagnosis, afraid of being seen as “damaged.” Others are told to pray harder or try bush medicine.
What we need is outrage not polite applause for pink balloons. Outrage that drugs can expire in storage while women beg for them. Outrage that health budgets are slashed while campaigns boast about “empowerment.” Outrage that real stories of pain are edited out because they don’t fit the cheerful pink aesthetic.
We cannot pink-wash our way out of a crisis.
We need fewer photo-ops and more policy.
Fewer pink cupcakes and more chemotherapy chairs.
Fewer slogans and more survivors.
And we must teach our daughters that breast health is not just a month, a colour or a marketing campaign. It is a year-round, lifelong commitment to vigilance and advocacy.
Every ribbon tells a story, but not all stories end in survival.
So, this October, by all means wear pink — but wear it with purpose. Ask questions. Demand answers. Donate to credible patient support groups. Volunteer at a cancer ward.
Honour those we’ve lost by ensuring fewer women have to walk the same road.
The real battle against breast cancer will never be won with balloons and banners. It will be won with compassion, courage and accountability, in the clinics, in the pharmacies, and in the halls of power.
Until that day, the colour pink should not just decorate our streets. It should remind us—and haunt us—of how much more there is left to do.
