You can’t imagine it, Jessie J states. At that moment preparing for her comeback record in nearly a decade, ecstatically in love with her current love, and at long last the mother of a toddler after struggling to conceive for ten years, on top of the world. Then in spring she was told she had cancer in her breast.
The musician, birth name J. Cornish, is famous for being brutally honest. The LP, her latest release, was supposed to be an candid account, dealing with every ounce of devastation she’d faced since she last recorded music (endometriosis, pregnancy loss, broken romances, gaslighting, suicide) with typical candour. The initial release, No Secrets, was released in the spring. But by then there was a mighty secret. The cancer. Then next release, the upbeat Living My Best Life, was released in late spring and the artist was talking to press about how she was enjoying life to the fullest, while all the while living with her cancer. Four weeks after she disclosed her condition, and in early July she had a mastectomy.
She gives me her best “What the fuck?” glance. “I put out with a song called the track No Secrets. I’m giving every press talk, and they ask, ‘So what’s new with you?’ and I’m, like, ‘Uh, nothing really’” she has just had to postpone shows because she’s awaiting follow-up surgery.
Our interview takes place at a photography studio in London. She is wearing a light brown synthetic jacket, blue jeans with elaborate white patches, cream boots and large glasses. Imagine motorcycle style meets 70s singer aesthetic. “I feel like I’m in the seventies and I should have a partner with a mustache.” Like the film, I say, recalling the movie. “I was nicknamed that in school!” She smiles. Jessie is quick, unfiltered and blunt. She says she has always wanted to try comedy and is planning to attempt her standup debut in the coming year. “I like entertaining. On stage I basically roast the crowd.”
Health Struggles and Diagnosis
Cornish was getting ready for an performance at the Baftas when she found a lump. “I promptly visited to get it looked at, had an ultrasound, and they said, ‘It looks like nothing; your breasts are normal.’ And I responded, ‘But I can feel it. My arm hurts and tingling in my hands whenever I get up.’ And they suggested, ‘We should biopsy it?’ That was 28 March, the post-birthday.” It was a Friday. The doctor told her if it was concerning she’d reach out on the Monday. By then the singer had convinced herself it was nothing. The way she describes it, it was simply too inconvenient to receive a diagnosis when she had many commitments.
“We’re two weeks away from releasing the album after a long hiatus and no new music. And the doctor messaged and said, ‘Is six okay?’ And I thought, ‘A video call, likely minor.’ So I log in expecting it’s all going to be positive, and she informs me, ‘Are you sitting down?.’ That sympathetic voice? And she says, ‘I regret to inform you but your test results have shown malignant cells.’” How did you respond? “I answered, ‘Oh, that’s not ideal, is it?. The timing is terrible.’ The first thing I thought was, ‘My child depends on me.’”
I’ve been labeled difficult for knowing myself
She found the surgery frightening and surreal. “I fear going under. They lead you. During crises you go on a gurney, but now I just strolled down with a hospital gown and my rear exposed. It felt surreal.” But, Cornish says, she’s been fortunate. Without chemo or radio, just the op. “Cancer is awful, but you know what? Thank fuck I found it early. The surgery happened four months ago and my one side now looks like a grapefruit under a tight bedsheet.” She smiles again. “At least the nipple remains.”
The subsequent surgery is therapeutic and aesthetic. Her boobs, she notes, are now “different sizes. The size doesn’t match. So inconsiderate! I thought, don’t add insult to injury, I’m already having a rough time. How offensive! Ironically I said I’d avoid breast surgery because I’ve got OCD, and I know they’d never be perfect. My plans were disrupted.”
Previous Struggles
She is no stranger to illness. She feels her outlook on her diagnosis has been so positive because she’s familiar with medical emergencies. They have often coincided with peak moments, serving as a tap on the shoulder, or punch in the stomach, to remind her not to be complacent. “Honestly, I feel the universe whispers, ‘Enjoying yourself? Hold on.’ Since childhood, it has always gone alongside high points for me; a serious or unusual issue has impacted my body.”
She recalls to her youth, already beginning featuring in the West End in a musical (she was selected at the age of nine). That’s when she was told about the medical problem a syndrome, which can cause a rapid pulse as well as vertigo and irregular beats. “I attended rehearsals intermittently on an drip, and going back into hospital at night.” She skips forward several years, and teenage Jess has joined the trio the group while attending the academy. “I signed my initial contract, and I had a stroke. Then when I was about to put out music in 2020 I had a collision and my larynx moved up and I lost my voice for a year.”
Wow, I say, hold on, I can’t keep up. You really had a stroke at 17? She nods|agrees
