"Regardless of people's good intentions about decking themselves out in pink for October, it feels to me that some are missing the point."

My siblings and I lost my sweet stepmother to breast cancer, which she'd dealt with on and off for 18 years, in August. Six weeks later, as it does every October, everything turned pink. At my gym, Wednesdays are even designated "wear pink" days. On that first Wednesday this month, I fought back tears as my boot camp class warmed up and we all watched the pink-outfitted instructor demonstrate weightlifting moves. Because this year, more so than ever, the phrases on every tank top and baby tee I've seen there have hit me with a fresh wave of grief: "Save the tatas." "Warrior." "I love boobies" with pink ribbons curling into the shape of the O's.

During that class, I flashed back to the last few minutes of Marilyn's 67 years; as her children and sisters cried around her, I didn't see pink. I saw red. My stepmom, Marilyn, hated the "warrior" and "battle" speak around breast cancer awareness. Is it really true if you "fight" cancer hard enough, you will win? She and the 42,000 other people whose lives are cut short each year would say no.

Regardless of people's good intentions about decking themselves out in pink for October, it feels to me that some are missing the point. At the gym that same day, I encountered two women chatting happily about how great it feels to be out of jeans and wearing stretchy, colorful pink workout gear. I couldn't help but wonder if they cared more about fashion than cancer awareness.

Yet they were participating in one of the largest and most successful women's health campaigns of all time; Breast Cancer Awareness Month was founded as a week-long event in 1985 by the American Cancer Society and Imperial Chemical Industries with the help of Betty Ford (who had breast cancer herself). Decades later, it's why pink is near-synonymous with breast cancer awareness during October. The amount of money pink merchandise has helped raise over the course of time undoubtedly contributed to the medical advancements that allowed Marilyn to live the 18 years that she did following her diagnosis.

But because of that merchandise's lucrative powers, "pinkwashing" has become its own sneakily sinister problem. The term, coined by the organization Breast Cancer Action, refers to corporations that use pink merchandise purported to support breast cancer awareness while simultaneously selling or funding products that are harmful to women's health. "The pink ribbon is the most widely recognized symbol for breast cancer, but historically there's been a significant lack of accountability, a glaring absence of transparency, and widespread hypocrisy in pink ribbon marketing," Breast Cancer Action shares in an informational video. "These problems within pink ribbon culture allow for the exploitation of breast cancer patients."