Canadian Cancer Society vs. Zentai

When we process so much cultural information at such breakneck speeds, weir coincidences pop up all the time.

Zentai enthusiasts, via BBC

It happened to me last week, when this February PSA by the Canadian Cancer Society showed up in my Facebook feed:



Then literally moments later, a BoingBoing post about a Japanese fad called Zentai caught my attention on Twitter:

Zentai (short for "zenshintaitsu," Japanese for "full body suit") is a largely obscure Japanese subculture whose adherents go out wearing full-body patterned spandex suits that cover their faces. In a relatively unsensational article in the Japan Times, Harumi Ozawa talks to a few zentais about their hobby, and learns that for some proponents, being completely covered is a liberating experience. The zentais in the article describe the suit as an anonymizer that frees them from the judging gaze of society, which is a fascinating study in contradictions, since the suits undoubtably attract lots of judgmental looks, but these seem to adhere to the suit without penetrating to the wearer within. 

Some zentais wear their suits in superhero fashion, and do good deeds in public, while others wear the suits for sexual kicks. They are often mocked in Japanese pop culture. One academic cited in the article believes that the wearers use the suits to hide their appearance in order to force others to deal with their "true" underlying identity.

I'm not going to pull the knee-jerk Western "bwahaha, Japanese culture is so weird" thing here. Rather, I'm interested to know if the Japanese fad directly influenced the low-budget Canadian PSA. After all, these memes shoot around the world in moments, and we're all soaking in a sort of cultural stone soup that attracts all kinds of random ingredients.

Gitchman hits the Home Stretch

The "Guy at Home in His Underwear" is the ultimate in slacktivism: A dude hanging out in his gitch (that's Canadian for "underpants") nonstop, for 25 days, to raise money for testicular cancer.

And since this is 2010, the whole thing is documented live online:

(Click here to go to his site)

He also interacts with people who chat him up or Tweet online.

Mark, the underpants crusader, is actually a testicular cancer survivor. And his effort is sponsored by venerable Canadian underclothier Stanfields. So as slacktivism goes, it's pretty solid.

All you have to do is give Mark a "like" on Facebook, and his sponsor will give a buck to the Canadian Cancer Society (Max $50k). Or you can just donate directly. But you have to do the "like" thing before Friday, October 29 to fund his undies crusade.

Only 296 "likes' to go...

Terry

Yesterday, people across Canada participated in the Terry Fox Run. If you're not from Canada, I'd like to tell you a bit about Terry, because he's my favourite national hero.

Terry Fox was just a teenager when cancer—osteosarcoma, specifically—took one of his legs. A devoted athlete, Terry became a wheelchair basketball star and once he was fitted with an artificial leg, he resumed distance running.

Still just in his early 20s, Terry became increasingly angry about how little money was being spent on cancer research. It's amazing to think about that today, when cancer fundraising has reached epic proportions. But 30 years ago, one young man decided to make a huge difference.

He planned and initiated a run across Canada. There was little fanfare. He dipped his leg in the Atlantic ocean near St. John's, Newfoundland, and started running. His only support was his brother and his buddy Doug, who followed him in their van. His original goal was just to raise one million dollars for the Canadian Cancer Society.

Terry ran through bad weather and past rude motorists in Quebec, who told him to get off the road. (A couple of BC boys, Terry and his brother never even considered a need for French advance PR.) But by the time he reached Ontario, Terry had become a popular phenomenon. He was given a police escort to protect him from growing crowds of onlookers and distracted drivers, and made his way to Ottawa where he was welcomed by Prime Minister Trudeau and the Governor General. Then he kept going.

It occurred to me this morning that a good number of my agency colleagues had not even been born in 1980, when Terry Fox was on the road. But I was 10, and my family had to drive past the Marathon of Hope along the Trans-Canada Highway on our way to our cottage in Sault Ste. Marie. I remember lots of traffic, police cars with their lights on, and a lot of commotion. I think I remember seeing Terry, but I have seen news footage of him so many times, it could be that which is burned into my brain. But at least I had a brush with history.

And history it would soon be. Terry only made it as far as Thunder Bay. Well, perhaps "only" is an understatement, since he had run 5,373 kilometres on his artificial leg! But his cancer, always lurking, had spread to his lungs. He had to call off the run. He died the next year.



But he started something huge. It wasn't the tragedy that got people's attention, it was his tenacity. Terry saw something wrong with the world, and took it on with nothing more than guts and ambition. In a world of traditional media, he earned attention and money for his cause the hard way, by just dragging himself out onto that highway every day until his body couldn't take it anymore.

Thirty years later, the Terry Fox Run is the world's largest one-day fundraiser for cancer research. Over half a billion dollars has been raised in his name for cancer research.

So as you sit in front of your computer today, and engage in your Facebook, Twitter and Blogular slacktivism just like I do, take a minute to ask yourself: what you would really be willing to do to save the world?

F-f-f-f- [THIS POST CONTAINS STRONG LANGUAGE]

You were warned.

Last November, I blogged about a tough new Canadian Cancer Society campaign that I summed up as "fuck you, cancer!"

Now, there's a fundraising site that conveys the message even more directly:



letsfcancer.com, designed by Vancouver's pacwebco, invites visitors to buy "f— cancer" t-shirts, donate to their educational mission, share the site on social media, or post your own "fuck you" to cancer on their wall — as text, image or video.

Here's mine:



And Mom, I'm sorry for the language. But at least in this case it's well-justified. And it feels pretty good. You should try it.

Inhale fail

Having seen a similar creepy effect in the movie 1984, I really wanted to like this ad more, and I did — until the end.



Created by DDB Toronto for the Canadian Cancer Society, it appears to have everything going for it. I at first assumed it was part of the tough, street-level campaign I blogged about last fall. And I also assumed that the ad was going to try to persuade young adult female smokers to quit before their habit robbed them of their looks.



A sexist approach? Certainly. But one that might actually have a shot with the young.

After all, smoking really does age you prematurely. It's as bad as too much tanning. And it's scientific fact.

According to a 10-year-old Japanese study quoted on BBC, it was found that the compounds in cigarette smoke increases the enzymes responsible for breaking down healthy skin tissue, while reducing collagen production by up to 40%. The result? Early onset of wrinkly, leathery skin.

This process affects men as well as women, but this is where a very ancient double standard kicks in. Humphrey Bogart's signature smoking killed him tragically young, but by male standards he still had "rugged good looks" into his 50s. Men are allowed to age gracefully, it seems, and a little weather on the bark might actually improve one's looks.

Women get a raw deal on this one. Female beauty, evolutionarily tied to a shorter period of fertility, is all about youthfulness. Look — I didn't make up these "rules", but they are a pretty standard observation across human cultures.

Of course, our modern culture has taken the quest for youthfulness to expensive and even dangerous extremes, with surgical interventions and a loosely regulated beauty industry pitching all varieties of snake oils.

Cancer is truly the worst-case scenario for smoking, and it's obvious why the Canadian Cancer Society would choose reduced lifespan as a consequence. But this concept, on its own, could have been a great wake-up call to all those women in their 20s who are still smoking (so to speak). Even if it might be perceived by some as politically incorrect, it speaks to instinct. And instinct is more powerful than making people do math.



Long-term, you're gambling with your life. But the smart money is on the fact that you won't even leave a beautiful corpse.

A better man than I

Yesterday, I just happened to catch wind of Mike Lush' 3rd Annual 320 km Rideau Trail end to end hike to end cancer on a friend's Facebook page.

Wow. In his own words:

All set to go, mid-October and this year I'm more motivated than ever !!! This horrid disease just took my Mom after a short battle on September 4th. 2 out of 3 of us can expect a cancer diagnosis sometime during our lifetime so you now have a far greater chance of getting this disease than not. So for the sake of yourself, your friends and family support the fight in any way you can.....remember, if you don't help fight this disease....who will?

So here I am, growing whiskers and wearing bras to work to support cancer awareness and research, and this guy's out there slogging it up the Rideau Trail.

Only 90 kms. to go !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Cold/flu waining......left leg, just a mild nuisance...all is well.

I can't believe this has been going on for three years without me noticing it. Mike's odyssey is very close to my heart for several reasons:

• I lost three grandparents to cancer (two far too young, one who gave thyroid cancer a damn good fight to almost 100!);
• I grew up on the portion of the trail just south of the Little Cataraqui Conservation Area, in Kingston, on which my Dad was among the volunteers who cut the paths through the woods where I take Ladman salamander hunting even today; and
• I love hiking (although I'm just a day tripper).

So, Mike, my moustache and my bra salute you.

Mike's almost done his trek, but you can still sponsor his 3rd Annual 320 km Rideau Trail end to end hike to end cancer at http://convio.cancer.ca/goto/Mike_Lush and follow his progress on his Facebook Group or Blog.

F*ck you, Cancer!

This is my kind of cause marketing campaign: It's meaningful, street-level, message-driven, and has kickass attitude:



It's part of the Canadian Cancer Society's "Fight Back" campaign. I haven't been able to track down the ad agency responsible, [update: a commenter tells me it's DDB Canada] but I wish I had done this campaign. It's been up around town for several weeks now, yet it keeps getting my attention.



The reason I'm so keen on the tone is that, like many Canadians, I have lost loved ones to cancer. Both my maternal Grandparents succumbed to it, too young, and it eventually got the best of my paternal Grandmother — even though she lived strong with thyroid cancer to the age of 98.

I find that people who deal with the spectre of cancer in the family tend to react in one of two ways: Either in hushed tones, as a taboo subject, or with righteous anger.

I am one of the latter group. It may seem irrational to anthropomorphize a cellular disease, but even misplaced anger is a great motivation. My mother tells me the story of how my uncle, a family doctor, was prone to fits of rage against inanimate objects when he realized he could not save their mother's life. But he remained a vigilant and committed fighter against the disease for the rest of his career. I imagine many researchers are driven by the same fire.





















Through activities like Movember or our Breast Aware Day last month, I've participated in some of the goofier consciousness-raising efforts. But for me it's a particularly vengeful form of satire.

Beneath my cheesy, sparsely-sprouting moustache, you should be able to hear me muttering:

"Fuck you, Cancer!"