You can’t imagine it, Jessie J remarks. There she was gearing up for her new album launch in eight years, deeply enamored with her newish partner, and finally the mom to a little one after facing fertility challenges for a decade, on top of the world. Then in March she was found to have breast cancer.
The artist, actual name J. Cornish, is famous for speaking her mind. The record, the provocatively titled album, was intended as an candid account, addressing every bit of hardship she’d endured since she last recorded music (endometriosis, miscarriage, broken romances, gaslighting, mental health struggles) with characteristic openness. The initial release, the song No Secrets, was dropped in April. But by then there existed a huge secret. Her diagnosis. Then second single, Living My Best Life, debuted in late spring and Cornish was speaking publicly about how she was enjoying life to the fullest, while at the same time coping with her cancer. Four weeks after she shared the news, and in the start of summer she had a mastectomy.
She shoots me her best “Are you kidding?” look. “I release with a song called No Secrets. I’m doing every media appearance, and they inquire, ‘What’s happening?’ and I answer, ‘Erm, yeah, nothing …’” the singer has just had to postpone shows because she’s still waiting for cosmetic procedures.
Our interview takes place at a photography studio in London. She is wearing a beige fake-leather jacket, blue jeans with elaborate white patches, off-white boots and oversized specs. Imagine biker chic meets 70s singer aesthetic. “It seems like I’m in the 70s and I should have a boyfriend with a big tache.” A biker reference, I say, referencing the picture. “I was nicknamed that in school!” She grins. Cornish is sharp-witted, irreverent and blunt. She says she has always fancied doing comedy and is aiming for her first comedy performance in the coming year. “I enjoy humor. On stage I basically roast the crowd.”
Health Struggles and Diagnosis
She was planning an appearance at the awards show when she noticed an abnormality. “I immediately went to get it looked at, had an scan, and they were, like, ‘It appears fine; your breasts are normal.’ And I responded, ‘But I can feel it. I have arm pain and numbness in my fingers whenever I wake up.’ And they replied, ‘We should biopsy it?’ It happened on March 28, the following my birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The specialist told her if it was bad news she’d call on the Monday. By then she had persuaded herself it was nothing. The way she describes it, it was inopportune to receive a diagnosis when she had many commitments.
“It was a fortnight prior from debuting the project after years away and no new music. And she [the doctor] texted and said, ‘Can you talk at six?’ And I assumed, ‘It’s virtual, probably routine.’ So I jump on the Zoom thinking it’s all going to be good, and she says, ‘You might want to sit.’ You know that sad tone they use? And she continues, ‘I regret to inform you but your reports have come back as malignant cells.’” How did you respond? “I answered, ‘That’s unfortunate. The timing is terrible.’ My initial thought was, ‘I can’t die because my son needs me.’”
I’ve been labeled difficult for knowing myself
She viewed the procedure terrifying and absurd. “I dislike anesthesia. They walk you down. In urgent cases 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 lucky. No chemotherapy or radiation, just the surgery. “Cancer is awful, but yet Thank fuck I found it early. The surgery happened a few months back and my right breast now resembles a odd shape.” Another grin. “The nipple was preserved.”
The next operation is therapeutic and aesthetic. Her breasts, she remarks, are now “different sizes. The size doesn’t match. How rude! I thought, no need to bully me, I’m already having a rough time. How offensive! Ironically I said I’d not undergo augmentation because I’ve got OCD, and I know they’d never be ideal. My plans were disrupted.”
A History of Health Challenges
The singer is no stranger to illness. She feels her outlook on her diagnosis has been so positive because she’s familiar with medical emergencies. Frequently they align with professional successes, serving as a tap on the shoulder, or shock, to make her recall not to be complacent. “Frankly, I feel the universe whispers, ‘You having a good time? Sit down.’ Ever since I was a child, it has consistently accompanied high points for me; something severe or obscure has happened to my health.”
She reminisces to her 11-year-old self, already starting her career performing in the London theater in Whistle Down the Wind (she was chosen at the age of nine years old). That’s when she was diagnosed with the medical problem Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, which can cause a fast heartbeat as well as dizziness and palpitations. “I was going in and out of rehearsals on an intravenous line, and going back into hospital at night.” She skips forward half a dozen years, and teenage Jess has joined the girl group Soul Deep while attending the Brit School. “I secured a deal, and I had a cerebral event. Then when I was about to put out music in 2020 I had a automobile accident and my throat was injured and I couldn’t sing for a twelve months.”
Hey, I say, wait, I need a moment. You really had a stroke at 17? She nods|agrees
