I’ve always been cynical when I’ve heard my friends’ mothers (with hobbies such as talking on the phone while driving giant SUVs and hiding their secret antidepressant habits from their neighbors in suburbia) smugly brag about supporting breast cancer awareness.
SANS THE SALTI’ve always been cynical when I’ve heard my friends’ mothers (with hobbies such as talking on the phone while driving giant SUVs and hiding their secret antidepressant habits from their neighbors in suburbia) smugly brag about supporting breast cancer awareness.
They’re like vegans: You don’t have to ask them if they’ve been in a race—they’ve been planning to tell you about it since before you said “hello.”
To me, paying $35 to run five kilometers doesn’t constitute humanitarianism, but after looking at Race for the Cure’s stats, I have to take back my cynicism and admit that there’s value in these things after all.
According to its website, 75 percent of the net proceeds from the Susan G. Komen Foundation’s Race for the Cure events stay in the communities where they’re held, with the rest going to research grants. This is a staggering number when you take into consideration numerous other organizations that ship all of their profits back to Los Angeles to disperse whatever’s left after their generous administration costs.
Since 1982, the Susan G. Komen foundation has raised nearly $2 billion for breast cancer research and community programs (e.g., breast cancer screenings for low-income, uninsured women), and Komen grants have at least partially funded every major cancer breakthrough in the past 29 years.
Despite how annoying and pointless I thought they were in high school, Relay for Life events put on by the American Cancer Association have raised $4 billion since 1985 to put toward fighting cancer.
Not only do some of these silly races raise money for saving the Chilean fruit bat or whatever cause they’re advocating for, they also help stimulate host cities’ economies.
Take, for instance, the Portland Marathon: 7,000 participants running an actual race in the heart of Portland. In 2008, 72 percent of participants came from more than 75 miles away and collectively paid $250,000 in lodging taxes.
The Portland Marathon also donated $4,000 to help clean up Chapman Square after it was destroyed by Occupy Portland’s little demonstration.
“Charity” races should really be judged on a case-by-case basis; I personally know several people who used to run a “charity golf tournament” in order to fund vacations to the Caribbean for the presidents of the organization.
A charity race has two primary goals: to raise money and raise awareness. So why can’t we have races to support other causes?
By no means do I think breast cancer should be put on the back burner, but it’s difficult to go into a retailer of any sort and not find pink ribbons on everything from T-shirts to macaroni and cheese.
Currently, more than one-third of American children are obese or overweight.
The fact that this number has tripled in the last 30 years because of unhealthy lifestyles—something that can be completely modified—is a sign of pathetic ignorance.
As these children mature they will face repercussions of their inherited sloth: heart disease, diabetes and, most importantly, the inability to lead normal, healthy lives.
I’d like to see more social issues take heed of this trend. In my crazy, left-wing imagination, I envision the streets of Portland filled with children and parents raising money for programs to promote better health education, encourage fitness-related children’s activities and open a much-needed dialogue.
Charity races have beautifully demonstrated what a cause can accomplish with a large backing and the support of millions. Now it’s time to apply similar principles to other issues.
While issues like heart disease, obesity and prostate cancer may not be as sexy as breast cancer, there’s just as much need to promote awareness of them. Though perhaps an “I colons” bracelet may not quite appeal to our youth, maybe it’s what the world needs to save lives.
