Shaney jo Darden likes breasts.
But she loves boobies.
“We don’t want to say ‘I Love Breasts,’ ” said Darden, 39, who as co-founder and CEO of the Carlsbad-based Keep A Breast Foundation is the force behind the popular — 5 million sold since 2006 — “I ♥ boobies” wristband. “ ‘I Love Boobies’ is just such a camp thing, it’s the way we’ve always communicated.”
If, like Darden, you want to communicate with a population that’s more attuned to Nicki Minaj than Mozart, you want to choose your words with care. “I Love Breasts” might work for a middle-aged audience, but with middle- and high school students that phrase would be a bust.
“The ‘I Love Boobies’ bracelet,” Darden said, “was designed to speak to young people in their own voice.”
This is not your mother’s breast cancer group. Let Susan G. Komen For the Cure sponsor three-day walks; Keep A Breast sets up education booths at surfing and skateboarding competitions. Let the National Breast Cancer Foundation host a “Pink Party” at a Napa winery; Keep A Breast tours with blink-182 and My Chemical Romance. Let older, more established charities refer to October as “Breast Cancer Awareness Month.” At Keep A Breast, it’s been re-christened “Breast Cancer Prevention Month.”
Prevention, Darden argued, starts with education. The ear-catching “boobies” slogan can kick-start conversations about the most common form of cancer among women, one on track to kill 40,000 Americans this year.
Those conversations, though, are sometimes sidetracked by arguments over vocabulary. “I ♥ boobies” T-shirts and wristbands, the latter resembling the yellow Lance Armstrong “livestrong” bracelets, but wider and in an array of eye-catching colors, are often seen on teens — and sometimes in the principal’s office.
Across the nation, some schools have tried to ban the “boobies.” Last April, several Mountain Empire High students were ordered to remove these items, but district officials said this was because other students acted immaturely. “That only happened once and because it created a disturbance,” said Superintendent Steve Van Zant. “Kids are entitled to wear those — that’s a First Amendment right we support.”
“Immature student” — isn’t that redundant? Not in Beth Morrison’s classroom at Burbank’s John Burroughs High School. For three years, Morrison has used material from Keep A Breast to teach students about breast cancer.
“You don’t give them the option to be immature,” she said. “They’re not allowed to be silly about it.”
Eager to spread the word to more high schools, Darden last week met with a curricula developer, Ashley Wexler, to discuss sample lesson plans.
Wexler booted up her laptop. A smiley face suggested “Let the fun begin!” After a page of data on the disease — bam! — the screen was filled with the anatomical feature in question.
Not, perhaps, an ideal image for a hormonally addled audience.
“I just think it doesn’t need to be so, I dunno, realistic,” Darden said. “We need something a little more KAB-looking.”
She looked about her workplace, where the undraped female torso is celebrated in posters, “check yourself” leaflets and plaster casts. In this setting, finding a more cartoonlike breast was as tough as finding sand at the beach.
Too much pink
Take a moment to look at Darden. Right away, you notice two things. No, not those two.
- She has a 100-watt smile.
- Her fingers are tattooed: T-R-U-E on the right hand, L-O-V-E on the left.
These eight letters are not romantic souvenirs — Darden is single and not seeing anyone — but a reminder of parental wisdom. Born in Fullerton and raised in Southern California, this Mira Mesa High graduate often heard her mother say, “Choose love over fear.”
Passionate about art, sports and fashion, Darden combined these pursuits as a designer, creating new styles for skateboarders, surfers, snowboarders. When a friend, street artist Margaret Kilgallen, was diagnosed with breast cancer in 2000, Darden wanted to show support. One problem: Her crowd was not wild about a certain color.
“Everything was pink and pink ribbons,” she said. “It all seemed geared toward old ladies.”
For a fresher look, Darden asked breast cancer patients to coat their busts in plaster. After they were peeled off, male and female artists painted them with images — birds and butterflies, falling bombs and crossed bones, crucifixes and sunbursts — that spoke of hopes and fears. The ensuing April 2000 fundraiser, dubbed “Keep A Breast,” featured live music and a fashion show, but the breast casts were the evening’s hit.
Darden meant this to be a one-time show. But breast cancer continued to wreak havoc — in the United States, about 290,000 women are diagnosed every year — and artists continued to ask about the next show.
Darden thought: “Next time? Oh my gosh!”
But she said: “OK.”
The Keep A Breast show is now an annual tradition.
The wrong hands
By 2001, Darden was designing clothes for DC Shoes and Sole Technology while organizing Keep A Breast events in her free time. In 2004, she linked up with the Quiksilver Foundation, the charitable arm of a large manufacturer of surf-related clothing and accessories. She made breast casts of surf teams, traveled to Australia and France to put on an exhibition during surfing competitions.
“All of my brands had been really supportive,” she said. “But when you tell your boss, ‘I need the next 10 days off to fly around the world …’ ”
In 2008, she quit her job to devote all her energies to Keep A Breast. Two years ago, she moved the foundation out of her Oceanside home and into Carlsbad offices provided by Tom and Jennifer DeLonge — she’s a furniture designer, he’s guitarist and lead singer with blink-182 and Angels & Airwaves.
Now, Darden supervises 10 full-time employees in Carlsbad. There are Keep A Breast chapters in Europe and Canada, plus plans to open a center in Los Angeles. Keep A Breast recently launched Non Toxic Revolution, a campaign aimed at eliminating cancer-causing agents from cosmetics, household supplies and other items. Meanwhile, employees are hitting music and sporting events — this month, about 15 each weekend — passing out breast self-exam leaflets and urging kids to adopt healthy, cancer-fighting lifestyles.
All this costs money, which the foundation has. Last year, revenues hit $7.6 million, a sum Darden termed “very unexpected and surprising.” But when you sell millions of wristbands ($4 each) and T-shirts (starting at $22), it adds up.
On Sunday, a sold-out Keep A Breast fundraiser in San Diego will feature breast casts from actress Elizabeth Röhm, VH1 host Carrie Keagan and other celebrities. The works will be auctioned off for the foundation — another source of income and stress.
In the past, some celebrities have been upset after they were outbid at auction. Sure, the money goes to a good cause. But not everyone wants a stranger to buy and possess these revealing works of art.
“If they want to own their cast,” Darden advised Amanda Nixon, a Keep A Breast employee overseeing the auction, “make sure that in the end it is theirs. We don’t want anyone to be bummed because their boobs end up in the wrong hands.”
Nixon laughed. Then Darden did, too.
“You know what I mean,” the boss said.
[email protected] • (619) 293-1227 • Twitter: @peterroweut
