You wouldn’t believe it, Jessie J states. At that moment gearing up for her first album release in nearly a decade, blissfully happy with her current love, and finally the mom to a little one after dealing with conception issues for a decade, riding high. Then in March she was told she had breast cancer.
The musician, real name Jess Cornish, is renowned for being brutally honest. The album, her latest release, was meant as an transparent story, dealing with every ounce of devastation she’d endured since she last recorded music (a gynecological condition, miscarriage, broken romances, psychological manipulation, mental health struggles) with her usual frankness. The first single, No Secrets, was released in the spring. But by then there existed a huge secret. The illness. Then follow-up track, Living My Best Life, was released in May and she was talking to press about how she was living her best life, while at the same time coping with breast cancer. Subsequently she went public, and in the start of summer she had a mastectomy.
She offers me her best “What the fuck?” expression. “I put out with a song called No Secrets. I’m giving every press talk, and they inquire, ‘Any updates?’ and I’m, like, ‘Uh, nothing really’” Cornish has just had to cancel tour dates because she’s still waiting for follow-up surgery.
We meet at a photography studio in the capital. She is sporting a tan faux-leather coat, jeans with ornate white designs, cream boots and large glasses. Imagine biker chic meets 70s singer aesthetic. “I feel like I’m in the 70s and I should have a partner with a mustache.” Like the film, I say, recalling the film. “That’s what people called me at school!” She beams. She is quick, unfiltered and direct. She says she has always been interested in humor and is aiming for her initial standup show next year. “I enjoy humor. During performances I basically roast the crowd.”
Personal Battles and News
The artist was planning an appearance at the awards show when she noticed an abnormality. “I promptly visited to get it examined, had an ultrasound, and they were, like, ‘It seems benign; your breasts are normal.’ And I was, like, ‘Yet I sense it. My arm hurts and pins and needles in my hands whenever I wake up.’ And they said, ‘How about a biopsy?’ That was 28 March, the day after my birthday.” It was a Friday. The doctor told her if it was bad news she’d contact on the start of the week. By then she had persuaded herself it was fine. The way she describes it, it was simply too inconvenient to get cancer when she had many commitments.
“It was a fortnight prior from launching this thing after a long hiatus and no new music. And the doctor messaged and said, ‘Is six okay?’ And I assumed, ‘It’s virtual, probably routine.’ So I jump on the Zoom thinking it’s all going to be good, and she informs me, ‘Are you sitting down?.’ The solemn tone? And she continues, ‘I regret to inform you but your reports have indicated high-grade cancer cells.’” How did you respond? “I answered, ‘That’s unfortunate. The timing is terrible.’ Immediately I felt was, ‘I can’t die because my son needs me.’”
I’ve been labeled difficult for knowing myself
She found the surgery terrifying and absurd. “I dislike anesthesia. They walk you down. You know when you have emergency surgery you go on a gurney, but this time I just marched with a hospital gown 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 surgery. “It’s terrible, but you know what? Thank fuck I found it early. The surgery happened a few months back and my right breast now appears as a odd shape.” She smiles again. “At least the nipple remains.”
The next operation is therapeutic and aesthetic. Her breasts, she notes, are now “different sizes. The size doesn’t match. How rude! I reflected, no need to bully me, I’m already having a hard period. How offensive! Amusingly I said I’d not undergo augmentation because I’ve got OCD, and I know they’d never be perfect. Illness changed that.”
Previous Struggles
She is accustomed to medical issues. She believes her outlook on her diagnosis has been so positive because she’s familiar with physical challenges. Frequently they align with career highs, serving as a tap on the shoulder, or shock, to highlight not to take anything for granted. “Honestly, I feel fate says, ‘You having a good time? Sit down.’ Since childhood, it has consistently accompanied high points for me; something severe or obscure has impacted my body.”
She takes me back to her childhood, already beginning performing in the London theater in the production (she was selected at the age of nine). That’s when she was diagnosed with the heart condition a syndrome, which can cause a tachycardia as well as vertigo and irregular beats. “I attended rehearsals intermittently on an intravenous line, and being readmitted at night.” She jumps ahead six years, and young Jessica has joined the female band Soul Deep while enrolled in the performing arts school. “I signed my initial contract, and I had a brain incident. 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 year.”
Hey, I say, slow down, I need a moment. You really had a stroke at 17? She nods|agrees
