My wife and I were vacationing with friends in Phuket, Thailand, and the beaches were packed. One day at breakfast, we started talking about that hot yellow monster in the sky.
“I wear 50 SPF sunscreen every day!” I proudly proclaimed. “It’s the only way I can relax and stop worrying about skin cancer.”
“Hmmm,” our friend replied thoughtfully. “I’ve heard that sunscreen actually causes cancer.”
And, just like that, my world was set adrift.
I should probably offer some background. The first thing you need to know about me is that calling myself white is an understatement. I’m so white that posing for photos next to my dark-skinned Filipino wife makes me look like an overexposed ghost. So white that I sometimes advise people to wear sunglasses in my presence. So white that the first time I came to the Philippines, crowds of children followed me in the streets for a touch of my skin to verify its authenticity.
Growing up in Southern California in the 1950s, of course, having white skin was no big deal because just about everybody I knew was almost as white as I was. We thought nothing of playing shirtless all day in the sun. Because, well, who’d ever heard of a thing called sunscreen? Here’s a hint: nobody.
So, we got lots of sunburns. Big, bad, painful, red ones. And when we did, we’d just spray on something our mothers said would help, endured the pain for a couple of days and then, voila! got back to the beach half-naked again. Just one of life’s minor inconveniences to be ignored and overcome.
Then along came cancer.
Well, ok, it’s not like it just showed up at the beach one day and started killing people. It did, however, show up with increasing frequency on TV in the guise of “new findings” implicating our old buddy, the sun, as one of the culprits secretly preying on us while pretending to be our friend.
By then I was married to my first wife, a lovely woman almost as white as I was. “Oh dear,” she said, “we better see a doctor.” So we did and, sure enough, found a red spot on my head he described as “pre-cancerous” before burning it to oblivion with some kind of acid.
“Here’s what you need to do,” the doctor ordered. “Go get 50 SPF sunscreen and wear it every day, rain or shine!”
And so I did and so I do.
Which brings us back to that ill-fated trip to Thailand and my friend’s shattering comment. “I’ve been wearing sunscreen every day for 40 years,” I argued, “and this is the first I’ve ever heard of it causing cancer. What’s your source?”
“Google it,” he insisted, “you’ll find it everywhere!”
And so I did and so it…well…was. Until very recently, when I noticed a Wall Street Journal article entitled “Influencers are saying Sunscreen Causes Cancer. They Are Wrong.”
Apparently, it seems, despite the persistent claims of so-called influencers and celebrities, most medical professionals are sticking to their guns regarding the cancer-preventing benefits of sunscreen. Which is why the American Academy of Dermatology recommends regularly applying an ounce of the stuff, SPF30-or-above, to all parts of the body not covered by clothing.
Unless, of course, you’re Filipino. Because non-white and darker-skinned people are less likely to get cancer from the sun and need more of it anyway to generate Vitamin D, according to dermatologist Dr. Adewole Adamson, an assistant professor of internal medicine in Texas.
All of which seemed like wonderful news to both me and my dear Filipino wife, whose skin is several shades darker than mine. Until I saw another headline in the San Francisco Chronicle. “Most sunscreens don’t work, study finds,” it screamed loudly enough to almost break my eardrums.
Sheesh, I thought, I’m back to square one.
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David Haldane is an award-winning American author, journalist, and broadcaster with homes in Joshua Tree, California, and Northern Mindanao, Philippines. His latest book, A Tooth in My Popsicle, is available on Amazon. This column appears regularly in The Manila Time.
