You can’t imagine it, Jessie J remarks. At that moment readying for her new album launch in nearly a decade, blissfully happy with her current love, and at long last the parent to a young child after facing fertility challenges for a decade, on top of the world. Then in March she was diagnosed with breast cancer.
The artist, birth name Jess Cornish, is renowned for being brutally honest. The album, Don’t Tease Me With a Good Time, was meant as an transparent story, addressing every ounce of devastation she’d faced since she last recorded music (a gynecological condition, miscarriage, failed relationships, psychological manipulation, suicidal thoughts) with typical candour. The lead track, the song No Secrets, was dropped in the spring. But by then there existed a huge secret. Her diagnosis. Then follow-up track, her song Living My Best Life, came out in May and Cornish was giving interviews about how she was living her best life, while still secretly living with breast cancer. A month later she disclosed her condition, and in early July she had a mastectomy.
She gives me her best “What the fuck?” look. “I release with a song called No Secrets. I’m conducting every press talk, and they’re, like, ‘What’s happening?’ and I respond, ‘Uh, nothing really’” she has just had to cancel tour dates because she’s awaiting cosmetic procedures.
We’re at a studio in London. She is sporting a light brown synthetic jacket, blue jeans with detailed white appliqués, off-white boots and large glasses. Think motorcycle style meets 70s singer aesthetic. “It seems like I’m in the 1970s and I should have a boyfriend with a big tache.” A biker reference, I say, recalling the picture. “They used to call me that!” She beams. Cornish is sharp-witted, bold and direct. She says she has always fancied doing comedy and is hoping to make her initial standup show next year. “I enjoy humor. On stage I often tease the crowd.”
Personal Battles and News
Cornish was planning an slot at the Baftas when she found a lump. “I quickly sought to get it examined, had an ultrasound, and they said, ‘It appears fine; your tissue is healthy.’ And I responded, ‘However, it’s there. I’ve got an achy arm and tingling in my hands whenever I get up.’ And they replied, ‘We should biopsy it?’ That was 28 March, the day after my birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The specialist told her if it was serious she’d call on the start of the week. By then the singer had convinced herself it was fine. The way she explains it, it was inopportune to face illness when she had so much on.
“We’re two weeks away from releasing the album after years away and an extended break. And she [the doctor] texted and said, ‘Can you talk at six?’ And I assumed, ‘It’s virtual, probably routine.’ So I jump on the Zoom expecting it’s all going to be positive, and she says, ‘Please take a seat.’ The solemn tone? And she says, ‘I regret to inform you but your test results have come back as aggressive cancer.’” What was your reaction? “I replied, ‘Well, that’s not great. That’s not fucking great timing.’ Immediately I felt was, ‘My child depends on me.’”
I’ve been labeled difficult for knowing myself
She found the surgery frightening and surreal. “I hate being put under. They walk you down. In urgent cases you are wheeled, but now I just marched with a medical attire and my rear exposed. You feel like you’re in an episode of Black Mirror.” But, she notes, she’s been fortunate. No chemo, no radiotherapy, just the procedure. “It’s terrible, but yet I’m grateful it was caught soon. The surgery happened a few months back and my one side now looks like a grapefruit under a tight bedsheet.” She smiles again. “The nipple was preserved.”
The subsequent surgery is both medical and cosmetic. Her breasts, she observes, are now “uneven. The implant is larger than before. So inconsiderate! I thought, no need to bully me, I’m already having a difficult experience. How offensive! It’s funny because I said I’d avoid breast surgery because I’ve got OCD, and I know they’d never be perfect. Cancer ruined that plan.”
Previous Struggles
She is familiar with health problems. She feels her perspective on the cancer has been so upbeat because she’s experienced in medical emergencies. Many times they occur alongside professional successes, functioning as a wake-up call, or punch in the stomach, to remind her not to be complacent. “Truly, I feel the universe whispers, ‘You having a good time? Hold on.’ From a young age, it has often paired with high points for me; something severe or obscure has impacted my body.”
She reminisces to her 11-year-old self, already beginning featuring in the London theater in a musical (she was selected at the age of nine years old). That’s when she was diagnosed with the medical problem WPW, which can cause a fast heartbeat as well as dizziness and irregular beats. “I attended rehearsals intermittently on an intravenous line, and being readmitted at night.” She skips forward half a dozen years, and 17-year-old Jess has become part of the female band the group while attending the performing arts school. “I signed my initial contract, and I had a stroke. Then when I was about to put out music in recently I had a automobile accident and my voice box shifted and I couldn’t sing for a twelve months.”
Wow, I say, hold on, I can’t keep up. At just 17? She nods|agrees
