You can’t imagine it, Jessie J states. There she was gearing up for her first album release in nearly a decade, blissfully happy with her current love, and finally the mother of a toddler after dealing with conception issues for ten years, riding high. Suddenly in March she was found to have breast cancer.
The artist, birth name J. Cornish, is known for telling it as it is. The album, the provocatively titled album, was intended as an candid account, addressing every ounce of devastation she’d experienced since she last recorded music (a gynecological condition, losing a baby, broken romances, gaslighting, suicide) with characteristic openness. The first single, her single No Secrets, was launched in April. But by then there remained a major undisclosed truth. The illness. Later follow-up track, Living My Best Life, debuted in May and Cornish was talking to press about how she was thriving, while all the while dealing with breast cancer. A month later she disclosed her condition, and in the start of summer she had a mastectomy.
She offers me her best “What the fuck?” glance. “I put out with a song called No Secrets. I’m conducting every press talk, and they inquire, ‘Any updates?’ and I’m, like, ‘Uh, nothing really’” Cornish has just had to postpone shows because she’s yet to undergo cosmetic procedures.
We’re at a photography studio in the capital. She is sporting a beige fake-leather jacket, jeans with elaborate white patches, off-white boots and large glasses. Think rocker vibe meets 70s singer aesthetic. “It seems like I’m in the 1970s and I should have a partner with a mustache.” A biker reference, I say, thinking of the film. “I was nicknamed that in school!” She beams. Cornish is quick, bold and direct. She says she has always wanted to try comedy and is planning to attempt her initial standup show soon. “I like entertaining. During performances I basically roast the crowd.”
Health Struggles and Diagnosis
The artist was preparing for an performance at the awards show when she noticed an abnormality. “I quickly sought to get it checked, had an scan, and they told me, ‘It seems benign; your breasts are normal.’ And I responded, ‘However, it’s there. My arm hurts and tingling in my hands whenever I get up.’ And they replied, ‘Well, let’s just do a biopsy?’ The date was March 28, the day after my birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The physician told her if it was bad news she’d reach out on the start of the week. By then Cornish had convinced herself it was nothing. The way she describes it, it was just bad timing to face illness when she had many commitments.
“It was a fortnight prior from launching this thing after years away and no new music. And the doctor messaged and said, ‘Can you talk at six?’ And I was, like, ‘Oh, it’s a Zoom, it won’t be anything.’ So I jump on the Zoom expecting it’s all going to be fine, and she goes, ‘You might want to sit.’ You know that sad tone they use? And she reveals, ‘Unfortunately but your reports have shown malignant cells.’” How did you respond? “I replied, ‘Oh, that’s not ideal, is it?. What awful timing.’ My initial thought was, ‘I can’t die because my son needs me.’”
Men have called me difficult because I’m a strong person who understands who I am
She found the surgery terrifying and absurd. “I dislike anesthesia. They walk you down. You know when you have emergency surgery you are wheeled, but this time I just strolled down with a medical attire and my backside out. You feel like you’re in an episode of Black Mirror.” But, Cornish says, she’s been fortunate. No chemotherapy or radiation, just the op. “Cancer sucks, man, but you know what? I’m grateful it was caught soon. I underwent removal a few months back and my affected breast now looks like a grapefruit under a tight bedsheet.” She smiles again. “The nipple was preserved.”
The subsequent surgery is for health and appearance. Her breasts, she remarks, are now “uneven. They didn’t do an implant as small as my original. So inconsiderate! I felt, no need to bully me, I’m already having a difficult experience. So rude! It’s funny because I said I’d not undergo augmentation because I’ve got OCD, and I know they’d never be flawless. Cancer ruined that plan.”
A History of Health Challenges
She is accustomed to medical issues. She believes her attitude toward illness has been so positive because she’s experienced in health crises. Many times they occur alongside career highs, functioning as a wake-up call, or blow, to remind her not to take anything for granted. “Honestly, I feel fate says, ‘Things going well? Hold on.’ Ever since I was a child, it has often paired with high points for me; something severe or obscure has affected my well-being.”
She takes me back to her youth, already starting her career performing in the London theater in the production (she was cast at the age of nine years old). That’s when she was told about the cardiac issue Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, which can cause a tachycardia as well as dizziness and palpitations. “I rehearsed between visits on an intravenous line, and going back into hospital at night.” She jumps ahead six years, and 17-year-old Jess has joined the female band Soul Deep while studying at the academy. “I secured a deal, and I had a stroke. Then when I was planning to release songs in recently I had a automobile accident and my voice box shifted and I was unable to vocalize for a long period.”
Hey, I say, wait, I am overwhelmed. At just 17? She nods|agrees
