You wouldn’t believe it, the singer remarks. At that moment preparing for her new album launch in eight years, deeply enamored with her newish partner, and finally the mother of a toddler after facing fertility challenges for ten years, on top of the world. Suddenly in spring she was diagnosed with breast cancer.
The artist, real name J. Cornish, is renowned for being brutally honest. The album, her latest release, was meant as an transparent story, addressing every moment of pain she’d endured since she last made an album (a gynecological condition, losing a baby, failed relationships, gaslighting, suicidal thoughts) with typical candour. The initial release, her single No Secrets, was dropped in the spring. But by then there was a mighty secret. Her diagnosis. Then next release, her song Living My Best Life, was released in May and Cornish was giving interviews about how she was thriving, while all the while coping with breast cancer. A month later she disclosed her condition, and in July she had a mastectomy.
She shoots me her best “What the fuck?” look. “I release with a song called the track No Secrets. I’m conducting every media appearance, and they inquire, ‘What’s happening?’ and I respond, ‘Erm, yeah, nothing …’” she has just had to cancel tour dates because she’s yet to undergo follow-up surgery.
We’re at a studio in London. She is dressed in a tan faux-leather coat, blue jeans with elaborate white patches, off-white boots and oversized specs. Think motorcycle style meets vintage look. “It seems like I’m in the seventies and I should have a boyfriend with a big tache.” A biker reference, I say, referencing the movie. “I was nicknamed that in school!” She grins. Cornish is sharp-witted, bold and filter-free. She says she has always been interested in humor and is aiming for her first comedy performance soon. “I enjoy humor. On stage I frequently joke about the fans.”
Personal Battles and News
Cornish was preparing for an appearance at the ceremony when she discovered a mass. “I quickly sought to get it looked at, had an test, and they were, like, ‘It looks like nothing; your breasts are normal.’ And I responded, ‘Yet I sense it. My arm hurts and tingling in my hands whenever I wake up.’ And they replied, ‘We should biopsy it?’ It happened on March 28, the following my birthday.” It was a weekend eve. The physician told her if it was concerning she’d contact on the Monday. By then she had persuaded herself it was fine. The way she explains it, it was just bad timing to face illness when she had so much on.
“We’re two weeks away from launching this thing after eight years without an album and an extended break. And she contacted me and said, ‘Are you free at six?’ And I assumed, ‘It’s virtual, probably routine.’ So I join the call thinking it’s all going to be positive, and she says, ‘Please take a seat.’ You know that sad tone they use? And she says, ‘I regret to inform you but your biopsy results have indicated high-grade cancer cells.’” What did you say? “I answered, ‘That’s unfortunate. That’s not fucking great timing.’ The first thing I thought was, ‘My child depends on me.’”
I’ve been labeled difficult for knowing myself
She considered the operation scary and bizarre. “I dislike anesthesia. They lead you. In urgent cases you are wheeled, but now I just marched with a gown on and my backside out. You feel like you’re in an episode of Black Mirror.” But, she adds, she’s been lucky. Without chemo or radio, just the surgery. “It’s terrible, but you know what? Thank fuck I found it early. The surgery happened recently and my right breast now looks like a grapefruit under a tight bedsheet.” Another grin. “I got to keep the nipple, though.”
The next operation is both medical and cosmetic. Her boobs, she notes, are now “different sizes. They didn’t do an implant as small as my original. So inconsiderate! I reflected, don’t add insult to injury, I’m already having a difficult experience. Such disrespect! It’s funny because I said I’d never get my boobs done because I’ve got obsessive tendencies, and I know they’d never be flawless. Cancer ruined that plan.”
Previous Struggles
Cornish is accustomed to medical issues. She believes her attitude toward illness has been so upbeat because she’s familiar with medical emergencies. They have often coincided with professional successes, acting as a reminder, or shock, to remind her not to assume everything is fine. “Truly, I feel the universe whispers, ‘Things going well? Sit down.’ Ever since I was a child, it has often paired with moments of success for me; a major or strange event has affected my well-being.”
She recalls to her childhood, already making her debut performing in the stage in a musical (she was chosen at the age of 9). That’s when she was told about the medical problem a syndrome, which can cause a tachycardia as well as vertigo and irregular beats. “I rehearsed between visits on an drip, and returning to the hospital at night.” She fast-forwards several years, and young Jessica has become part of the trio Soul Deep while studying at the Brit School. “I signed my initial contract, and I had a stroke. Then when I was about to put out music in the year 2020 I had a car crash and my voice box shifted and I couldn’t sing for a twelve months.”
Hey, I say, slow down, I need a moment. You really had a stroke at 17? She nods|agrees
