We cannot wear our way out of cancer By Aisha Yusuf Sabo

BY: AISHA YUSUF SABO, OCTOBER 31, 2026/ 04:41PM

Every October, the world turns pink. For the whole month, breast cancer occupies our timelines, workplaces, television screens and conversations. We wear pink. We share infographics. We encourage women to know their breasts and pay attention to unusual changes. Hospitals and organisations organise walks and screening campaigns, while social media fills with reminders that early detection can save lives.

All of these matters. But after years of Pink Octobers, I think we should ask a more difficult question: What happens after awareness? In Nigeria, breast cancer is not a small or a distant problem. According to the International Agency for Research on Cancer, 32,278 women were diagnosed with breast cancer in Nigeria in 2022, making it the most common cancer among Nigerian women. It was also the leading cause of cancer deaths among women that year.

Statistics is shocking on its own, but every number represents a person whose diagnosis eventually becomes somebody else’s mother, sister, daughter, wife, friend or grandmother. And yet, our conversation often stops at awareness. We tell women to check for lumps. We tell them not to ignore changes. We tell them to seek medical attention early. But what happens when a woman notices something and does not know where to go? What happens when she seeks help but cannot afford the diagnostic tests? What happens when she receives a diagnosis but cannot afford the treatment that follows? What happens when distance, misinformation, fear or stigma delays her from getting care? These are not questions that a pink ribbon can answer.

Awareness is important, but awareness without access can leave people knowing what to fear without giving them a realistic pathway to care. The World Health Organization’s Global Breast Cancer Initiative recognises this. Its approach is not simply to tell women about breast cancer. It calls for health promotion and early detection, timely diagnosis, and comprehensive treatment. Its targets include increasing the proportion of cancers diagnosed at stages I and II, ensuring timely diagnosis, and helping patients complete recommended treatment. That distinction matters.

A woman should not have to be wealthy to act on a health warning. She should not have to live in the city to find appropriate care. She should not have to choose between cancer treatment and feeding her family. She should not have to navigate a complicated health system alone. And she should not be made to feel that a late diagnosis is simply the result of not being “aware enough.” There are, of course, efforts being made. Nigeria’s National Cancer Control Programme includes public education, prevention, early diagnosis and treatment, effective therapy and palliative care among its mandates. The Federal Ministry of Health also reports ongoing efforts to expand oncology services and provide support for indigent cancer patients.

But the existence of programmes is not the same as universal access to care. That gap is where our attention should go. Pink October should therefore become less about how much pink we can put on display and more about what we are willing to build when October is over. We need stronger pathways for early diagnosis. We need accessible and affordable diagnostic services. We need treatment that patients can realistically complete. We need better support for families. We need accurate information that reaches women beyond urban centres and beyond social media. We need to reduce the fear and stigma that can keep people away from care.

So as October 2026 comes to a close, we need to remember that cancer does not wait for October. It also does not disappear on November 1. The woman who discovers a lump in January still needs somewhere to go. The woman receiving chemotherapy in May still needs affordable treatment. The family caring for a mother with advanced cancer in August still needs support.

That is why breast cancer awareness should not be the destination. But I believe we can work towards a future where fewer families have to experience that loss simply because a disease was detected too late, diagnosed too late, or treated too late.

So yes, wear the pink ribbon. Share the information. Start the conversation. But when October ends, let us ask what we are doing to make sure that the woman who listened to that conversation can actually access the care she needs. Because awareness can tell a woman to seek help. A functioning health system must make sure there is somewhere for her to go.