Cancer as a Taboo

Abstract

In her thesis, a psychologist interviewed kids who would die of cancer. The imaginative process of those kids was described, as well as their plans for the future. A 7-year-old girl had as her immediate future the wish to work in the church. She said that she needed to take care of her bald head for her hair to grow straight. A 9-year-old girl, who used the verbs in the past to talk about cancer, said that she lost her hair because she complained it was bad. She also said that she was kicked in the belly, and that originated the tumor, and her body just stays with the disease if it wants, and her body wanted it because she did not eat well. Regardless of cancer, and because of it, she planned to study and become a cuisine chef. When we do not talk about the disease, feelings, pain, and problems, they do not disappear. They grow. And, as people, we give meaning to what we do not understand to try to make sense of the half-information we have. That is why we need to talk about cancer.

While writing my children’s book Chubby’s Tale: The True Story of a Teddy Bear Who Beat Cancer—now in its second edition—I met several other writers that were willing to exchange manuscripts for beta reading. We read each other’s books and provided feedback, a common step among writers to make a book stronger. Chubby is a teddy bear with a wool pullover and no pants. He felt ill. After talking to his friend Superhero, he decided that there was one thing to do: go on an adventure through La La Land Toy Store. The journey begins with Chubby taking off in a toy Volkswagen Beetle, to find Dr. Doll. Along the way, he learns about leukemia, chemotherapy, hair loss, and stem cell transplantation, and he is cured. Returning to his shelf, Chubby is given the best Christmas gift a teddy bear can have. Chubby is the favorite of all my books because it explains complex subjects, like homing of stem cells and leukemia, in a very simple and cute way. A beta reader suggested that I cut out everything about cancer from the book and leave just the book’s core, which for her was Chubby’s journey in the toy store to find a home. I completely ignored her advice. This was not another Christmas-themed picture book. It was for cancer patients and has a particular purpose for those patients.

Cancer is often a taboo topic in Chinese American families. It is rare for Chinese American breast cancer survivors to discuss feelings and concerns openly with significant others. A study examined the association between social constraints, such as barriers from significant others inhibiting cancer-related disclosure in relation to fear of recurrence, among 136 Chinese Americans who were cured of breast cancer—while proposing that self-stigma, such as internalized feelings of shame about having cancer, together with body pain and ambivalence over emotional expression (like the conflict between the desire to express emotions and the fear of its consequences) would mediate the association. The study suggested that sharing thoughts and concerns with supportive and empathic people can facilitate the cognitive process of the experience of cancer and its adjustment, while an unsupportive network, such as significant others’ disinterest, unavailability, or disapproval, would block the cognitive processing and adjustment.

A recent study about breast cancer as a taboo in Ghana exposed several important concerns about cultural beliefs and stigma. In northern Ghana, breast cancer is perceived as a taboo, and women who detect abnormalities in their breasts often keep their symptoms secret for months before seeking healthcare. Or, first, they try to be healed in a church. The study pointed to another sad situation: women afflicted with breast cancer refusing to mention it to keep the respect of their families. Daughters of women who have breast cancer find it difficult to get married in their communities. Some cultures in Ghana think that breast cancer is a contagious disease and segregate clothing, bowls, cups, and spoons.

Shukria Barakzai had never been assaulted before. Some men jumped out of a truck and started whipping her with a rubber cable until she fell out, and they continued whipping her after she was unconscious. During this time in Afghanistan, there were no laws preventing violence against women. In an extreme absence of respect for women, sharia, a law the Taliban forces Afghan people to follow, makes clear that women cannot even go outside without a mahram, a male guardian. Some countries have a well-defined law about not only the physical violence against women but also psychological, financial, and emotional violence (emotional abuse can be as hurtful as physical violence, and often it even represents an open door for physical violence).

That day, Shukria’s husband was at work, and she woke up feeling dizzy and feverish. She could not walk the street herself being a woman, to visit the doctor, so she shaved her 2-year-old daughter’s head and dressed her in boys’ clothes since with a 2-year-old “boy” she would be allowed to walk the street. She was wearing a burka with blue folds that hid her fingertips, painted red. The Taliban forbids nail polish. She asked her neighbor, another woman, to walk with her to the doctor in central Kabul. They left the doctor’s office with a prescription and were going to the pharmacy when Taliban militants, who regularly drove around Kabul looking for Afghans to shame and punish for violating their moral code, decided, as a way to justify sadism, that there was something wrong about her. She was shocked and humiliated. Afterwards, she said, “Are you familiar with something we call sadism? Like they don’t know why, but they are just trying to beat you, harm you, disrespect you. This is now (what) they enjoy. Even they don’t know the reason.”