You wouldn’t believe it, the singer remarks. There she was readying for her comeback record in nearly a decade, ecstatically in love with her newish partner, and finally the mother of a toddler after facing fertility challenges for a decade, riding high. Then in spring she was told she had breast cancer.
The artist, real name J. Cornish, is known for being brutally honest. The LP, the provocatively titled album, was intended as an open book, tackling every moment of pain she’d experienced since she last made an album (endometrial issues, pregnancy loss, failed relationships, psychological manipulation, suicide) with typical candour. The lead track, the song No Secrets, was dropped in the spring. But by then there existed a huge secret. The cancer. Later follow-up track, her song Living My Best Life, came out in late spring and Cornish was giving interviews about how she was thriving, while all the while coping with breast cancer. Subsequently she shared the news, and in July she underwent breast removal surgery.
She shoots me her best “Are you kidding?” expression. “I put out with a song called the track No Secrets. I’m conducting every interview, and they’re, like, ‘So what’s new with you?’ and I’m, like, ‘Erm, yeah, nothing …’” Cornish has just had to cancel tour dates because she’s awaiting reconstructive surgery.
Our interview takes place at a photo studio in the capital. She is dressed in a light brown synthetic jacket, jeans with elaborate white patches, cream boots and big frames. Imagine rocker vibe meets 70s singer aesthetic. “I feel like I’m in the 70s and I should have a partner with a mustache.” A biker reference, I say, thinking of the film. “They used to call me that!” She smiles. Jessie is sharp-witted, irreverent and direct. She says she has always fancied doing comedy and is aiming for her initial standup show soon. “I like entertaining. When performing I often tease the fans.”
Personal Battles and News
She was getting ready for an slot at the awards show when she discovered a mass. “I immediately went to get it examined, had an test, and they were, like, ‘It appears fine; your breasts are normal.’ And I responded, ‘Yet I sense it. My arm hurts and numbness in my fingers whenever I rise.’ And they replied, ‘How about a biopsy?’ The date was March 28, the following my birthday.” It was a Friday. The specialist told her if it was concerning she’d contact on the start of the week. By then Cornish had assured herself it was fine. The way she describes it, it was simply too inconvenient to get cancer when she had so much on.
“Just two weeks before from launching this thing after eight years without an album and an extended break. And she contacted me and said, ‘Can you talk at six?’ And I assumed, ‘It’s virtual, probably routine.’ So I join the call expecting it’s all going to be positive, and she says, ‘Please take a seat.’ You know that sad tone they use? And she continues, ‘I regret to inform you but your test results have shown aggressive cancer.’” What did you say? “I replied, ‘Well, that’s not great. That’s not fucking great timing.’ Immediately I felt was, ‘I have to survive for my boy.’”
I’ve been labeled difficult for knowing myself
She found the surgery terrifying and absurd. “I dislike anesthesia. They walk you down. In urgent cases you are wheeled, but this time I just walked with a hospital gown and my rear exposed. You feel like you’re in an episode of Black Mirror.” But, Cornish says, she’s been fortunate. No chemo, no radiotherapy, just the surgery. “Cancer sucks, man, but yet Thank fuck I found it early. I had the mastectomy a few months back and my one side now looks like a odd shape.” She smiles again. “At least the nipple remains.”
The next operation is for health and appearance. Her chest, she remarks, are now “different sizes. The implant is larger than before. That’s impolite! I thought, why make it worse, I’m already having a difficult experience. Such disrespect! Ironically I said I’d not undergo augmentation because I’ve got perfectionism, and I know they’d never be flawless. Cancer ruined that plan.”
Previous Struggles
Cornish is no stranger to illness. She thinks her attitude toward illness has been so positive because she’s used to medical emergencies. Frequently they align with professional successes, serving as a tap on the shoulder, or punch in the stomach, to make her recall not to be complacent. “Frankly, I feel fate says, ‘You having a good time? Take a seat.’ From a young age, it has always gone alongside achievements for me; a serious or unusual issue has happened to my health.”
She takes me back to her youth, already starting her career featuring in the London theater in the production (she was selected at the age of 9). That’s when she was diagnosed with the medical problem Wolff-Parkinson-White syndrome, which can cause a tachycardia as well as dizziness and heart flutters. “I was going in and out of rehearsals on an IV drip, and being readmitted at night.” She jumps ahead six years, and 17-year-old Jess has entered the girl group Soul Deep while enrolled in the performing arts school. “I signed my initial contract, and I had a brain incident. Then when I was ready to debut in recently I had a car crash and my throat was injured and I lost my voice for a year.”
Hey, I say, hold on, I am overwhelmed. You really had a stroke at 17? She nods|agrees
