Health Care Hall of Fame - 2007
Nancy Brinker
Brinker’s breast cancer foundation started 25 years ago with a sisterly promise
Nancy Brinker’s mother would often take her and her late sister, Susan Komen, volunteering in homeless shelters, for the Red Cross or elsewhere when they were young girls.
“I want you girls to be stewards of our country,” Brinker remembers her saying one day. “Mother gave us a sacred task: We should fix what was wrong with the world.”
When Komen lay dying of breast cancer at age 36, in 1980, at a time when “cancer equated to death; people whispered about it in hushed tones,” Brinker recalls her sister “asked me one last time to fix something that was wrong. … I promised her I would, even if it would take the rest of my life. I didn’t realize it would take the rest of my life.”
In 1982, with nothing but a roomful of friends, $200, a broken typewriter and a list of names at her disposal, Brinker founded the Susan G. Komen Breast Cancer Foundation, recently renamed Susan G. Komen For the Cure on its 25th anniversary. In the past quarter-century, the foundation has established more than 15,000 local affiliates and invested $1 billion, raised from its signature Race for the Cure and other avenues, aimed at research, education and, ultimately, finding the cure for cancer.
“My sister was my best friend, and when someone you love so much is looking at you, when they’re dying, and asks you to do something that makes their life mean something,” it’s hard to say no, Brinker says. But “I had no idea what I was going to do to honor the promise. I just didn’t know how (the organization) was going to grow.”
Another kind of war
Based on her research, she did know that during the time about 58,000 young Americans were dying in the Vietnam War, 339,000 died of breast cancer “and nobody was outraged. You didn’t hear about it. You just didn’t say the word ‘breast’ in conversation,” Brinker, 60, says. From her experiences in Neiman Marcus’ executive training program and the mentorship of her father, she also knew the basics of marketing.
“I realized that the messages (about breast cancer) were dry, boring, dull, scary,” she says. “It came out in literature from a few organizations, and nobody was reading them. How are you going to learn if you can’t say the words? Where could they receive that message in a way that would be unexpected? What I was thinking was pairing products with a message to reach women.”
In addition to raising money from wealthy groups of people and attempting to gain access to political leaders, Brinker realized she needed to build a large grass-roots organization “where we could attract people, where we could educate them, where we could give them hope.” This led to the idea of the Race for the Cure—and her notion of pairing products with a message led to “women in pink T-shirts.”
“This was all pre-Internet,” she says. “The only thing you could do was form organizations in towns and hope that it would grow, using the available media.” While at Neiman Marcus, “some of the very basic principles I learned were: Never stop selling. ‘No’ only means maybe. Keep working at something, and refresh it all the time.”
“Nancy literally ignited the global movement against breast cancer,” says Susan Carter, senior adviser in the office of the president of Komen. “I remember covering her first event for a local newspaper and having to sit down with my editor to figure out how to write the story without using the word ‘breast.’ We said ‘female’ cancer. I credit Nancy Brinker for changing the way we talk about breast cancer and the way we treat the disease. Another important hope was instilling hope into the cancer community.”
Ken Bentsen, board chairman of Komen, expresses admiration “that one person could be such a catalyst to create the largest nongovernmental breast cancer research organization, and put the issue on the public agenda, in such a short period of time.”
Launched in Dallas, Komen grew through a network of local affiliates with their own missions, boards and local races, that today receive in the aggregate about 75% of the foundation’s resources, Brinker says. At the national level, the Komen Foundation has invested in research and lobbied the government and others to do the same. It took about 10 years to build “a solid base” of funding support, she says.
Carter notes that the Komen Race for the Cure has grown from 800 participants in 1983 to more than 1.5 million today. “She created the first organized sporting event where people from all walks of life could gather in an unthreatening environment to discuss something very serious,” Carter says. “She encouraged participants to bring breast cancer out of the closet, acknowledge they’ve been personally touched by it, remember those they’ve lost, but more important, celebrate those who have survived.”
In the years since Komen’s founding, the five-year survival rate for those diagnosed with breast cancer has risen from 74% to 98%, and government funding for research has rocketed from about $30 million to $900 million, Brinker says. The $1 billion invested by Komen so far “is kind of amazing,” she says. “We’ve had tons of big sponsors, but also pennies, nickels and dimes.
“There hasn’t been an advance in breast cancer research that hasn’t been touched by a Komen grant,” she adds. “I am proud of the advances we have been able to make. A great part of the increase in screening is because of Komen’s leadership. The pink ribbon—it started with that, in the 1980s. It has a big message in it.”
Brinker takes the most pride in her people. “I’ve always loved having people around me who are far more intelligent than I am. It’s really nice to be surrounded by A students,” she says. “All of what we do is give a lot of love. We are a very forceful, powerful organization at this point.”
“I realized that the messages (about breast cancer) were dry, boring, dull, scary,” she says. “It came out in literature from a few organizations, and nobody was reading them. How are you going to learn if you can’t say the words? Where could they receive that message in a way that would be unexpected? What I was thinking was pairing products with a message to reach women.”
In addition to raising money from wealthy groups of people and attempting to gain access to political leaders, Brinker realized she needed to build a large grass-roots organization “where we could attract people, where we could educate them, where we could give them hope.” This led to the idea of the Race for the Cure—and her notion of pairing products with a message led to “women in pink T-shirts.”
“This was all pre-Internet,” she says. “The only thing you could do was form organizations in towns and hope that it would grow, using the available media.” While at Neiman Marcus, “some of the very basic principles I learned were: Never stop selling. ‘No’ only means maybe. Keep working at something, and refresh it all the time.”
“Nancy literally ignited the global movement against breast cancer,” says Susan Carter, senior adviser in the office of the president of Komen. “I remember covering her first event for a local newspaper and having to sit down with my editor to figure out how to write the story without using the word ‘breast.’ We said ‘female’ cancer. I credit Nancy Brinker for changing the way we talk about breast cancer and the way we treat the disease. Another important hope was instilling hope into the cancer community.”
Ken Bentsen, board chairman of Komen, expresses admiration “that one person could be such a catalyst to create the largest nongovernmental breast cancer research organization, and put the issue on the public agenda, in such a short period of time.”
Launched in Dallas, Komen grew through a network of local affiliates with their own missions, boards and local races, that today receive in the aggregate about 75% of the foundation’s resources, Brinker says. At the national level, the Komen Foundation has invested in research and lobbied the government and others to do the same. It took about 10 years to build “a solid base” of funding support, she says.
Carter notes that the Komen Race for the Cure has grown from 800 participants in 1983 to more than 1.5 million today. “She created the first organized sporting event where people from all walks of life could gather in an unthreatening environment to discuss something very serious,” Carter says. “She encouraged participants to bring breast cancer out of the closet, acknowledge they’ve been personally touched by it, remember those they’ve lost, but more important, celebrate those who have survived.”
In the years since Komen’s founding, the five-year survival rate for those diagnosed with breast cancer has risen from 74% to 98%, and government funding for research has rocketed from about $30 million to $900 million, Brinker says. The $1 billion invested by Komen so far “is kind of amazing,” she says. “We’ve had tons of big sponsors, but also pennies, nickels and dimes.
“There hasn’t been an advance in breast cancer research that hasn’t been touched by a Komen grant,” she adds. “I am proud of the advances we have been able to make. A great part of the increase in screening is because of Komen’s leadership. The pink ribbon—it started with that, in the 1980s. It has a big message in it.”
Brinker takes the most pride in her people. “I’ve always loved having people around me who are far more intelligent than I am. It’s really nice to be surrounded by A students,” she says. “All of what we do is give a lot of love. We are a very forceful, powerful organization at this point.”
Healing the research system
Brinker expresses frustration with what she terms America’s “injured” scientific enterprise system. “We need to help scientists get back to the work of their discoveries,” she says. “We have put scientists in the position of competing for grants. People need to share data. People need to be in a position—all of us understand capitalism, people need to protect information—but they also need to work together and not be duplicative.”
The foundation has invested in 47 countries and has a “special focus on underserved populations and cultures,” Brinker says. Another frustration for her has been “the galloping growth of breast cancer in developing countries.”
As the foundation reaches its 25th anniversary, with a pledge to invest another $1 billion in the next 10 years and a “state of the state of breast cancer” report set for release later this year, Brinker knows she can’t stop running. “It’s taken a long time to build this network, and it will take continued effort,” she says. “We’re focused on results, and very excited about where we’re going—all the time recognizing we’re in a race to get there.”
In addition to her work with Komen, Brinker has served as U.S. ambassador to Hungary and has served on national advisory boards of the Harvard Center for Cancer Prevention, Women’s Health Resource Center, Women’s Health Initiative, National Coalition of Cancer Survivorship and National Cancer Institute. Her “day job” is a combination of public speaking, consulting and corporate board work.
Her mother’s call to public service still rings in Brinker’s head. “It is the duty of each of us to serve our country,” she says. “Boys and girls are dying overseas in Iraq. Public service—it’s all noble work. It takes you out of yourself. If you’re not ill, or caring for a sick person, you need to be doing some kind of public service, always.”
Brinker’s passion for service—and for making good on her promise to her sister—leads her to conclude that she’s never truly worked. “If you love what you do, and you’re passionate about it, you’ll never work another day in your life. ‘Work’ is a bad word,” she says. “Your passion will carry you anywhere.
“If people believe you’re sincere about what you’re doing, they’ll allow you to make mistakes, and I have,” she adds. “If people believe that you’re willing to share the credit—the reason this organization is structured the way it is, I didn’t want this to just be about Nancy Brinker. You can’t build an organization if you’re going to crown yourself queen or king in perpetuity.”
Carter praises Brinker’s “courage and tenacity, and her inability to take ‘no’ for an answer,” and likens her to a “dog with a bone (who) won’t let go until we find cures for this disease and make sure everyone has access to them. … She’s a purpose-driven visionary.” Concludes Bentsen: “Nancy has dogged determination. She’s willing to raise the issue with anybody, regardless of who they are.”
The foundation has invested in 47 countries and has a “special focus on underserved populations and cultures,” Brinker says. Another frustration for her has been “the galloping growth of breast cancer in developing countries.”
As the foundation reaches its 25th anniversary, with a pledge to invest another $1 billion in the next 10 years and a “state of the state of breast cancer” report set for release later this year, Brinker knows she can’t stop running. “It’s taken a long time to build this network, and it will take continued effort,” she says. “We’re focused on results, and very excited about where we’re going—all the time recognizing we’re in a race to get there.”
In addition to her work with Komen, Brinker has served as U.S. ambassador to Hungary and has served on national advisory boards of the Harvard Center for Cancer Prevention, Women’s Health Resource Center, Women’s Health Initiative, National Coalition of Cancer Survivorship and National Cancer Institute. Her “day job” is a combination of public speaking, consulting and corporate board work.
Her mother’s call to public service still rings in Brinker’s head. “It is the duty of each of us to serve our country,” she says. “Boys and girls are dying overseas in Iraq. Public service—it’s all noble work. It takes you out of yourself. If you’re not ill, or caring for a sick person, you need to be doing some kind of public service, always.”
Brinker’s passion for service—and for making good on her promise to her sister—leads her to conclude that she’s never truly worked. “If you love what you do, and you’re passionate about it, you’ll never work another day in your life. ‘Work’ is a bad word,” she says. “Your passion will carry you anywhere.
“If people believe you’re sincere about what you’re doing, they’ll allow you to make mistakes, and I have,” she adds. “If people believe that you’re willing to share the credit—the reason this organization is structured the way it is, I didn’t want this to just be about Nancy Brinker. You can’t build an organization if you’re going to crown yourself queen or king in perpetuity.”
Carter praises Brinker’s “courage and tenacity, and her inability to take ‘no’ for an answer,” and likens her to a “dog with a bone (who) won’t let go until we find cures for this disease and make sure everyone has access to them. … She’s a purpose-driven visionary.” Concludes Bentsen: “Nancy has dogged determination. She’s willing to raise the issue with anybody, regardless of who they are.”