Men Can Get Breast Cancer Too

Jake Messier, diagnosed with stage 4 estrogen receptor–positive invasive ductal carcinoma, runs the largest TikTok account focused on metastatic breast cancer. He began sharing his story after realizing how little awareness exists around male breast cancer — not just among men, but within the health care system itself.

“When you’re a guy diagnosed with breast cancer, you suddenly find yourself in a pink world,” he said, describing a moment when he woke up from surgery without a binder — because the only ones had flowers. That’s when he realized this was about more than awareness; it was about self-advocacy.

Drawing from his 30-year career in nonprofit marketing, Messier uses TikTok to challenge misconceptions and build community. While most of his 30,000 followers are women, he says, “If 4% are men hearing this message, that’s a win.” By speaking openly about treatment, fear, and survivorship, he helps others feel seen — and less alone.

CURE: What initially motivated you to start sharing your breast cancer journey publicly, and how has that experience evolved over time?

Messier: I didn’t know men could get breast cancer until I got breast cancer. That’s where it started for me.

When you’re a guy diagnosed with breast cancer, you suddenly find yourself in a pink world — because 99% of people with breast cancer are women, and just 1% are men. So naturally, almost all the advertising, awareness, funding — everything — is geared toward women. As a man, you’re just dropped into that world and expected to adapt.

One specific moment that really opened my eyes was when I realized the issue wasn’t just that men don’t know they can get breast cancer — it’s that the industry and even providers don’t seem to know either. You walk into any waiting room, and it’s all pink and flowers. It’s all designed to support women. At Dana-Farber, I took a photo of the sign on the breast cancer floor. It says, “The Center for Women’s Cancers.” And I remember thinking, “Sure — but I just had a mastectomy. I’m standing here too.”

When I woke up from surgery, groggy and out of it, one of the things I expected to be wearing was a surgical bind — a Velcro wrap that goes around your torso to keep everything in place. But it wasn’t on me. I asked, “Why don’t I have a bind on?” And they said, “Well, the only ones we had had flowers on them, so we chose not to put one on you.”

Wait, what? You think I’d reject a medical device because it had flowers on it? That was a moment that stuck with me. It made me realize this wasn’t just about raising awareness — it was about self-advocacy. That’s when I started speaking up: “Why can’t we do this differently?” And people started listening.

At the time, I already had a TikTok account — just a personal one where I shared bits of my daily life. I had maybe 1,000 followers. But once I started talking openly about breast cancer — sharing the highs and lows, crying when I needed to, celebrating the milestones, and offering real advice — things started to grow. I’m now at nearly 30,000 followers.

What are some of the most common misconceptions that you encounter, and how do you address them in your advocacy?

Men have breast tissue too — it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. But because breast cancer is seen as a “women’s disease,” men often delay getting checked. I waited four months after finding a lump, thinking, “It can’t be that.” Many men wait even longer — and by then, it’s often advanced.

Once diagnosed, it can feel isolating. Everything is pink. Every brochure says “she” and “her.” Even something as routine as a mammogram feels jarring when it’s not designed with men in mind. That alienation makes it harder for men to stay engaged in treatment — and that affects outcomes.

The truth is, more men die from breast cancer simply because they’re unaware, uncomfortable, or ashamed. That needs to change. Even though 96% of my social media audience is women, if 4% are men hearing this message, that’s a win.

How has connecting with others through social media shape your own healing and perspective on survivorship?

I spent about 30 years in nonprofit marketing — digital media, PR, advertising, strategy — and even ran my own agency before I sold it. I worked with organizations like WGBH, Antiques Roadshow, and the Boston Symphony Orchestra. So when I was diagnosed with breast cancer, I took everything I knew about building awareness and applied it to myself as a brand — with one clear message: men can get breast cancer too.

I know how marketing works. I know what connects with people. And if the only thing I’m “selling” is awareness that saves lives, then I feel good about that. I’m not out here selling hats or chasing viral fame. It’s just about making people stop and think.

As my TikTok grew, I started connecting with people from all walks of life — locally, globally, caregivers, survivors. The cancer community online is powerful. People have reached out to say they’ve watched two years’ worth of my videos in a weekend because they just got diagnosed and didn’t know where to start. And even though I always remind people that no two cancer journeys are the same, sometimes just seeing someone else go through it helps.

I try to be honest — about the fear, the treatment, the setbacks, and the unexpected turns. I was told my path would be chemo, then surgery, then radiation, and I’d be done in 10 months. But two years later, I’m still getting scans and figuring things out. It’s not a straight line for most of us — and that’s okay.

That’s where the community comes in. On days I’m struggling, I turn to them — and they show up. They get it in a way friends and family sometimes can’t. And it’s not just about me. I want the 27,000 people following me to connect with each other too. That’s how we build something bigger than just one story. That’s how we build a real community.

Transcript has been edited for clarity and conciseness.

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