When October rolls around each year, the world turns pink. From ribbons and branded merchandise to 5K walks and fundraising galas, the imagery surrounding Breast Cancer Awareness Month is instantly recognizable. It’s a sea of slogans like “fight like a girl,” paired with pink ribbons, portraying that cisgender, feminine-presenting females are the only people affected by this devastating disease. While it may feel empowering for some, it often leaves members of the LGBTQ+ community feeling alienated. 

The traditional framing of breast cancer centers the lived experiences of white heterosexual cisgender women, minimizing the realities of those who do not fall within that category. Trans men, nonbinary folks, gender-expansive, lesbian, and bisexual women all face distinct challenges in the medical realm, leaving them at higher risk and increased obstacles when seeking diagnosis and care. However, their experiences are rarely highlighted in public health messaging, clinical research, or advocacy efforts. 

This lack of inclusion trickles down into everything from educational pamphlets to clinical guidelines. The exclusion of LGBTQ+ folks in breast cancer awareness can have harmful consequences. It sends a message: this isn’t for you.

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Rewriting the Message

To reclaim breast cancer awareness for all genders and sexualities, we need to reimagine what inclusion looks like, including visibility and ensuring that all identities are featured in campaigns. That means uplifting the experiences of LGBTQ+ survivors, using inclusive language, and moving beyond narrow symbols of femininity to more accurately reflect the wide range of communities impacted.

Breast cancer awareness shouldn’t just be about selling pink products or reaching fundraising goals. It should focus on closing care gaps, promoting research equity, and dismantling systems that disadvantage some patients. 

“Beyond Pink Ribbons” is more than a slogan. It’s a reminder that breast cancer advocacy must evolve if it’s going to serve everyone it claims to represent.

As we reflect on what breast cancer awareness truly means, we must ask: Who is missing from the conversation? Whose stories aren’t being told? And what can we do, not just in October, but year-round? Because real awareness isn’t about aesthetics, it’s about inclusion. It’s about equity. And it’s about fighting for all people, not just the ones who fit a “marketable” mold.

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‍Invisible in the Data

One of the most glaring issues is the lack of inclusive data. Most large-scale breast cancer studies and national cancer registries do not collect information on sexual orientation or gender identity (SOGI). Without this data, it’s difficult to fully understand the risks, outcomes, and needs of LGBTQ+ populations. This invisibility means that healthcare systems are missing critical guidance when it comes to tailoring prevention, screening, and treatment strategies for these communities.

Research that does exist points to concerning disparities. For example, lesbian and bisexual women may have higher rates of certain breast cancer risk factors, including alcohol use, obesity, and nulliparity (not having given birth). Trans men may face unique risks and barriers related to hormone therapy, chest binding, and mastectomy status. Nonbinary people often navigate a healthcare system that insists on gendered language, outdated forms, and clinicians who are unfamiliar with their identities. When you’re constantly being misgendered or misunderstood, going in for a mammogram or discussing chest health can become an emotionally taxing, even traumatic experience.‍

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Screening Gaps and Medical Mistrust

Many LGBTQ+ people delay or avoid preventive care altogether, not because they don’t value their health, but because of previous experiences of discrimination or invalidation in medical settings. According to the 2022 U.S. Transgender Survey, nearly one in four trans people avoided seeking necessary healthcare in the previous year due to fear of mistreatment. For queer and trans people, showing up to a doctor’s office isn’t always a neutral act—it can mean bracing for invasive questions, incorrect assumptions, or outright hostility.

This fear can lead to significant gaps in breast cancer screening. One study found that lesbian and bisexual women were less likely than heterosexual women to receive routine mammograms, despite having similar or higher risk factors. Similarly, trans men who have not had top surgery may still retain breast tissue and therefore remain at risk for cancer, but often aren’t advised about appropriate screening protocols by their providers. The result is delayed diagnoses, reduced access to early detection, and poorer outcomes.‍

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The Need for Inclusive Advocacy

Breast cancer advocacy must evolve beyond gendered clichés. It’s time to create space for everyone who lives with, or is at risk for, this disease. That means centering stories from LGBTQ+ survivors, investing in research that disaggregates SOGI data, and training healthcare providers to offer competent, affirming care.

It also means changing how we talk about breast cancer. Rather than framing it as a “women’s issue,” we need to recognize that anyone with breast or chest tissue can develop this disease. Public health campaigns should reflect this reality not only in their language but in their imagery, outreach, and cultural sensitivity. Outreach materials should feature people of different gender expressions and identities, and providers must stop assuming gender based on appearance or anatomy.

Organizations and advocates can also help by amplifying LGBTQ+-specific resources, such as the Cancer Network, which offer education, training, and survivor support tailored to queer and trans communities. Creating safer pathways to screening and care begins with acknowledging that LGBTQ+ people exist in these spaces, and that their lives and health matter just as much.‍

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Toward a More Inclusive Future

As we continue to push for health equity in cancer care, breast cancer awareness must be reclaimed and reimagined. It’s not enough to “go pink” each October if large swaths of our population continue to be left out of the conversation.

A truly inclusive Breast Cancer Awareness Month would recognize that gender is not binary, that bodies come in all forms, and that health disparities are rooted in systems, not individuals. It would embrace the complexity of people’s identities and celebrate survivorship in all its forms. It would affirm that LGBTQ+ people deserve care that sees them fully, supports them holistically, and includes them meaningfully in every aspect of the fight against breast cancer.

Because awareness is only the first step, what we do with that awareness, who we include, who we listen to, and who we fight for, determines whether our advocacy truly lives up to its promise. Let’s make sure that following October, and every month after, we move beyond the pink and toward a future where everyone is seen and has access to the care they need.