To be honest, I’ve had it with the color pink. I know it is supposed to represent what my fellow breast cancer survivors and I have gone through but, there is a point where it just starts to aggravate us.

First of all, pink never seemed like that strong a color to me. Purple. Now that’s a color. Strong, deep, mysterious.  How about red? Aggressive, bright, vibrant.

But, in all honesty, here is the real reason I’m sick of pink. We buy pink sneakers, pink ribbons, pink pens, pink bookmarks, pink T-shirts. Special pink nail polish, lipstick, car magnets. But, I think we are starting to forget what the real reason is for the pink phenomenon.

To a breast cancer survivor, pink has begun to equals pain. Pink equals fear. Pink equals despair and hopelessness. Pink equals sickness and hospitals and wigs and uncomfortable bras and bandages and tears and sadness.

It’s like anything else. When it gets to become overkill, we are nullified and forget what the symbol really stands for, which is courage and bravery over the disease. Just like Martin Luther King, Jr, Day and Memorial Day have become shopping opportunities rather than days to reflect on the sacrifices made by these remarkable individuals, however, people have become immune to it’s true intention.

I appreciate that the pink thing started with the best of intentions but, I have to say, it’s getting too big for it’s own good.. Also, we breast cancer survivors (or any cancer survivor, for that matter) do not want to be defined by our disease.

I am not just a cancer survivor. I am a mother, a wife, a daughter, a sister, a friend. I own a business, am a reader, a singer, a swimmer, a Facebook junkie. I like the beach and puppies and Christmas Time and would see every movie in the theaters if I had the time.  I wanted to be a rock star when I grew up, my first kiss was with Christian Carpenter (and it was magical),  I wish my dad didn’t leave when I was small, I miss my grandparents terribly. I’m a good cook and like long baths and chatting online with my best friend, Jill. I thank God for my mother every single day and love to lay against my dog, who is so warm and soft, for comfort after surgeries.

When I walk by you, and you see a pink ribbon pinned on my chest, you do not see any of these things. All you think of is “breast cancer”.  You may even feel sorry for me.

I am so much more. And, although I need support, I don’t need pity.

I am in no way boycotting the pink ribbon, or magnet, or T-Shirt, etc but, asking that everyone look a little deeper than just the symbol. Think about the fact that there is a real person in that car with the pink ribbon magnet who has gone to hell and back or has a family member who has gone to hell and back. That the person wearing the Susan J. Komen Race for the Cure pink T-Shirt has either gone through cancer, loved someone who has gone through cancer, or lost someone who has gone through cancer.

We are women, we are people, we are so much more than a disease.

Thank you.