You wouldn’t believe it, Jessie J says. There she was gearing up for her new album launch in eight years, ecstatically in love with her recent boyfriend, and at long last the parent to a young child after struggling to conceive for ten years, riding high. Then in spring she was diagnosed with breast cancer.
The musician, birth name Jessica Cornish, is famous for speaking her mind. The album, her latest release, was intended as an transparent story, tackling every ounce of devastation she’d endured since she last recorded music (endometrial issues, miscarriage, broken romances, psychological manipulation, suicide) with characteristic openness. The first single, the song No Secrets, was dropped in April. But by then there existed a huge secret. Her diagnosis. Later follow-up track, Living My Best Life, debuted in May and Cornish was giving interviews about how she was enjoying life to the fullest, while at the same time living with her cancer. Four weeks after she shared the news, and in the start of summer she underwent breast removal surgery.
She gives me her best “What the fuck?” glance. “I put out with a song called No Secrets. I’m conducting every interview, and they ask, ‘Any updates?’ and I respond, ‘Uh, nothing really’” the singer has just had to cancel tour dates because she’s still waiting for cosmetic procedures.
We’re at a photo studio in the capital. She is wearing a beige fake-leather jacket, denim trousers with detailed white appliqués, off-white boots and large glasses. Think rocker vibe meets 70s singer aesthetic. “I feel like I’m in the 70s 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. Jessie is fast-thinking, unfiltered and blunt. She says she has always fancied doing comedy and is aiming for her initial standup show soon. “I like entertaining. On stage I basically roast the audience.”
Personal Battles and News
Cornish was planning an appearance at the ceremony when she noticed an abnormality. “I promptly visited to get it looked at, had an scan, and they were, like, ‘It looks like nothing; your tissue is healthy.’ And I was, like, ‘However, it’s there. I’ve got an achy arm and pins and needles in my hands whenever I get up.’ And they said, ‘How about a biopsy?’ That was 28 March, the following my birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The doctor told her if it was serious she’d call on the Monday. By then she had persuaded herself it was fine. The way she describes it, it was just bad timing to get cancer when she had many commitments.
“Just two weeks before from releasing the album after eight years without an album and no new music. And she contacted me and said, ‘Are you free at six?’ And I assumed, ‘Oh, it’s a Zoom, it won’t be anything.’ So I log in believing it’s all going to be good, and she says, ‘You might want to sit.’ That sympathetic voice? And she continues, ‘I regret to inform you but your test results have shown malignant cells.’” What did you say? “I replied, ‘Oh, that’s not ideal, is it?. The timing is terrible.’ My initial thought was, ‘I have to survive for my boy.’”
I’ve been labeled difficult for knowing myself
She found the surgery frightening and surreal. “I fear going under. You’re escorted. During crises you are wheeled, but then I just strolled down with a medical attire and my backside out. Like a dystopian scene.” But, Cornish says, she’s been fortunate. No chemo, no radiotherapy, just the surgery. “Cancer sucks, man, but you know what? Thank fuck I found it early. I underwent removal a few months back and my right breast now resembles a odd shape.” Another grin. “I got to keep the nipple, though.”
The follow-up procedure is therapeutic and aesthetic. Her chest, she notes, are now “uneven. The size doesn’t match. That’s impolite! I reflected, don’t add insult to injury, I’m already having a hard period. 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 perfect. Cancer ruined that plan.”
Past Medical Issues
The singer is accustomed to medical issues. She believes her outlook on her diagnosis has been so upbeat because she’s used to physical challenges. Frequently they align with peak moments, functioning as a wake-up call, or shock, to make her recall not to assume everything is fine. “Truly, I feel the universe whispers, ‘You having a good time? Hold on.’ Ever since I was a child, it has consistently accompanied moments of success for me; a major or strange event has affected my well-being.”
She takes me back to her 11-year-old self, already beginning starring in the London theater in a musical (she was chosen at the age of 9). That’s when she was diagnosed with the medical problem Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, which can cause a tachycardia as well as lightheadedness and heart flutters. “I attended rehearsals intermittently on an IV drip, and returning to the hospital at night.” She jumps ahead half a dozen years, and 17-year-old Jess has entered the female band Soul Deep while enrolled in the academy. “I just got my first record deal, and I had a brain incident. Then when I was ready to debut in the year 2020 I had a car crash and my larynx moved up and I lost my voice for a year.”
Wow, I say, slow down, I can’t keep up. At just 17? She nods|agrees
