You wouldn’t believe it, Jessie J remarks. At that moment readying for her new album launch in nearly a decade, ecstatically in love with her newish partner, and finally the mother of a toddler after struggling to conceive for a decade, riding high. Then in March she was told she had a breast cancer diagnosis.
The artist, birth name Jess Cornish, is famous for speaking her mind. The LP, her latest release, was intended as an candid account, tackling every bit of hardship she’d faced since she last recorded music (endometriosis, pregnancy loss, unsuccessful partnerships, emotional abuse, suicidal thoughts) with typical candour. The first single, the song No Secrets, was dropped in the spring. But by then there was a mighty secret. The cancer. Then second single, the upbeat Living My Best Life, was released in May and she was speaking publicly about how she was enjoying life to the fullest, while at the same time dealing with the disease. Four weeks after she shared the news, and in early July she underwent breast removal surgery.
She offers me her best “Seriously?” expression. “I come out with a song called the track No Secrets. I’m doing every press talk, and they’re, like, ‘What’s happening?’ and I’m, like, ‘Well, not much…’” the singer has just had to postpone shows because she’s yet to undergo reconstructive surgery.
We’re at a photography studio in London. She is wearing a beige fake-leather jacket, blue jeans with elaborate white patches, cream boots and oversized specs. Picture rocker vibe meets 1970s Nana Mouskouri. “I feel like I’m in the seventies and I should have a partner with a mustache.” A biker reference, I say, recalling the movie. “That’s what people called me at school!” She smiles. Jessie is quick, bold and filter-free. She says she has always wanted to try comedy and is hoping to make her initial standup show soon. “I love making people laugh. On stage I basically roast the audience.”
She was getting ready for an performance at the ceremony when she discovered a mass. “I promptly visited to get it examined, had an ultrasound, and they told me, ‘It appears fine; your tissue is healthy.’ And I responded, ‘However, it’s there. I have arm pain and pins and needles in my hands whenever I get up.’ And they suggested, ‘Well, let’s just do a biopsy?’ It happened on March 28, the post-birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The doctor told her if it was bad news she’d reach out on the Monday. By then Cornish had convinced herself it was okay. The way she describes it, it was inopportune to receive a diagnosis when she had many commitments.
“We’re two weeks away from launching this thing after a long hiatus and no new music. And she [the doctor] texted and said, ‘Are you free at six?’ And I thought, ‘It’s virtual, probably routine.’ So I log in believing it’s all going to be positive, and she says, ‘You might want to sit.’ You know that sad tone they use? And she says, ‘Unfortunately but your reports have come back as aggressive cancer.’” What did you say? “I replied, ‘That’s unfortunate. That’s not fucking great timing.’ The first thing I 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 viewed the procedure terrifying and absurd. “I dislike anesthesia. They lead you. During crises you are wheeled, but this time I just strolled down with a hospital gown and my bum hanging out. Like a dystopian scene.” But, she notes, she’s been fortunate. Without chemo or radio, just the procedure. “Cancer is awful, but yet I’m grateful it was caught soon. I had the mastectomy recently and my affected breast now looks like a grapefruit under a tight bedsheet.” Another grin. “At least the nipple remains.”
The follow-up procedure is therapeutic and aesthetic. Her boobs, she observes, are now “asymmetrical. The size doesn’t match. How rude! I thought, no need to bully me, I’m already having a rough time. So rude! Ironically I said I’d avoid breast surgery because I’ve got perfectionism, and I know they’d never be flawless. My plans were disrupted.”
The singer is no stranger to illness. She thinks her perspective on the cancer has been so upbeat because she’s experienced in medical emergencies. Frequently they align with career highs, functioning as a wake-up call, or shock, to make her recall not to assume everything is fine. “Frankly, I feel life goes, ‘Enjoying yourself? Take a seat.’ Ever since I was a child, it has always gone alongside moments of success for me; a major or strange event has affected my well-being.”
She reminisces to her youth, already beginning featuring in the West End in Whistle Down the Wind (she was chosen at the age of nine years old). That’s when she was diagnosed with the cardiac issue a syndrome, which can cause a tachycardia as well as vertigo and irregular beats. “I was going in and out of rehearsals on an drip, and returning to the hospital at night.” She fast-forwards half a dozen years, and 17-year-old Jess has joined the girl group the group while attending the performing arts school. “I secured a deal, and I had a stroke. Then when I was about to put out music in the year 2020 I had a car crash and my voice box shifted and I couldn’t sing for a twelve months.”
Wow, I say, hold on, I am overwhelmed. You really had a stroke at 17? She nods|agrees
Maya Chen is a freelance writer and urban enthusiast with a passion for documenting city life and cultural shifts.
