You can’t imagine it, Jessie J states. At that moment readying for her new album launch in eight years, blissfully happy with her recent boyfriend, and at long last the mom to a little one after facing fertility challenges for a decade, on top of the world. Suddenly in spring she was diagnosed with cancer in her breast.
The artist, real name Jessica Cornish, is renowned for speaking her mind. The album, the provocatively titled album, was meant as an open book, dealing with every bit of hardship she’d endured since she last worked on songs (endometriosis, pregnancy loss, broken romances, gaslighting, suicide) with her usual frankness. The initial release, No Secrets, was launched in April. But by then there existed a huge secret. The cancer. Then follow-up track, her song Living My Best Life, came out in May and the artist was speaking publicly about how she was enjoying life to the fullest, while still secretly living with breast cancer. Subsequently she went public, and in the start of summer she underwent breast removal surgery.
She offers me her best “What the fuck?” look. “I release with a song called No Secrets. I’m giving every interview, and they inquire, ‘What’s happening?’ and I answer, ‘Erm, yeah, nothing …’” she has just had to postpone shows because she’s still waiting for follow-up surgery.
Our interview takes place at a photography studio in London. She is sporting a tan faux-leather coat, blue jeans with elaborate white patches, beige footwear and large glasses. Picture motorcycle style meets 1970s Nana Mouskouri. “I feel like I’m in the seventies and I should have a boyfriend with a big tache.” Easy Rider, I say, recalling the picture. “I was nicknamed that in school!” She beams. Cornish is fast-thinking, unfiltered and direct. She says she has always fancied doing comedy and is planning to attempt her standup debut next year. “I enjoy humor. When performing I basically roast the audience.”
Personal Battles and News
Cornish was planning an appearance at the awards show when she noticed an abnormality. “I immediately went to get it examined, had an test, and they told me, ‘It appears fine; your tissue is healthy.’ And I insisted, ‘Yet I sense it. I have arm pain and pins and needles in my hands whenever I rise.’ And they said, ‘We should biopsy it?’ That was 28 March, the day after my birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The physician told her if it was concerning she’d contact on the Monday. By then Cornish had persuaded 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 a long hiatus and an extended break. And she contacted me and said, ‘Is six okay?’ And I assumed, ‘A video call, likely minor.’ So I jump on the Zoom believing it’s all going to be good, and she says, ‘You might want to sit.’ That sympathetic voice? And she reveals, ‘I’m so, so sorry but your biopsy results have indicated aggressive cancer.’” How did you respond? “I answered, ‘That’s unfortunate. The timing is terrible.’ My initial thought was, ‘My child depends on 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 hate being put under. You’re escorted. You know when you have emergency surgery you roll down in a bed, but this time I just marched with a gown on and my bum hanging out. You feel like you’re in an episode of Black Mirror.” But, she notes, she’s been fortunate. No chemotherapy or radiation, just the op. “Cancer is awful, but you know what? I’m grateful it was caught soon. I had the mastectomy a few months back and my one side now resembles a fruit under fabric.” A further beam. “I got to keep the nipple, though.”
The next operation is therapeutic and aesthetic. Her breasts, she observes, are now “uneven. The implant is larger than before. That’s impolite! I thought, no need to bully me, I’m already having a rough time. Such disrespect! It’s funny because I said I’d not undergo augmentation because I’ve got perfectionism, and I know they’d never be ideal. Cancer ruined that plan.”
Past Medical Issues
The singer is familiar with health problems. She feels her perspective on the cancer has been so positive because she’s familiar with physical challenges. Frequently they align with professional successes, serving as a tap on the shoulder, or punch in the stomach, to highlight not to assume everything is fine. “Truly, I feel fate says, ‘Enjoying yourself? Take a seat.’ Since childhood, it has always gone alongside moments of success for me; something severe or obscure has impacted my body.”
She takes me back to her 11-year-old self, already beginning performing in the London theater in the production (she was chosen at the age of nine years old). That’s when she was diagnosed with the medical problem WPW, which can cause a rapid pulse as well as lightheadedness and palpitations. “I rehearsed between visits on an IV drip, and returning to the hospital at night.” She skips forward half a dozen years, and 17-year-old Jess has become part of the trio Soul Deep while enrolled in the performing arts school. “I just got my first record deal, and I had a cerebral event. Then when I was about to put out music in recently I had a car crash and my voice box shifted and I couldn’t sing for a year.”
Hey, I say, slow down, I need a moment. A stroke so young? She nods|agrees
