When people imagine cancer advocacy, they often picture fundraising walks, awareness campaigns, hospital events, or educational seminars.

And they’re absolutely right.

But they’re also wonderfully incomplete.

On Canada Day, I had the privilege of producing and hosting a roast comedy show at Toronto’s iconic El Mocambo. On paper, it looked like an evening of comedians teasing one another, raising money, and creating memories. Which it absolutely was.

But to me, it was also advocacy.

Not because we spent the evening reminding people that life continues after it.

One of the greatest lessons survivorship has taught me is that purpose doesn’t always arrive wearing a name badge or standing behind a podium. Sometimes it walks on a stage holding a microphone. Sometimes it volunteers quietly behind the scenes. Sometimes it organizes an event, donates a prize, buys a raffle ticket, or simply shows up because someone they care about asked them to.

Every one of those moments matters.

As patients, survivors or thrivers, we sometimes feel pressure to contribute in ways that seem significant enough to “count”. We compare our efforts against fundraising totals, audience sizes, or social media reach, quietly wondering whether what we’re doing is enough.

I’ve learned that advocacy isn’t measured by scale.

It’s measured by intention.

That same spirit of intentional community is something I’ve been fortunate to witness through the Sexual and Gender Diversity in Cancer Care (SGDc) Program at Princess Margaret Cancer Centre. Throughout the year, I’ve had the privilege of supporting SGDc initiatives as both an emcee and survivor participant. Every event reinforces something I deeply admire about the program: creating spaces where people don’t have to wonder whether they belong… they simply do.

Representation isn’t just about being invited into the room.

It’s about feeling safe enough to be yourself once you’re there.

The SGDc Program continues to create those spaces for 2SLGBTQ+ individuals affected by cancer, their loved ones, and their communities. Their work reminds us that advocacy is often less about speaking for people, more about creating environments where people can speak for themselves.

Whether your passion is comedy, education, peer support, fundraising, photography, baking, public speaking, or simply being the person who listens without trying to fix everything – you already possess something that can strengthen a cause you believe in.

Cancer may change many parts of our lives.

But it doesn’t get to decide how we contribute afterward.

A Reflection for All of Us

If you’ve ever wondered whether your contribution is “big enough”, perhaps you’re asking the wrong question.

Instead ask:

“Does what I’m doing make someone else’s journey just a little easier?”

If the answer is yes, then you’ve already succeeded.

Advocacy isn’t reserved for extraordinary people.

It’s built by ordinary people who choose to care, using whatever gifts they already have.

When cause, community, and compassion come together – even through something as unexpected as a comedy show – we’re reminded that hope has far more than one way of showing up.

—- Written by: Peter Laneas
Advocacy & Engagement Lead
Cancer Fatigue Services