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This body-positive campaign for men’s underwear is fantastic.

Aerie's men's underwear line has the Internet talking.

This body-positive campaign for men’s underwear is fantastic.

American Eagle's underwear brand, Aerie, released a campaign targeting men earlier this year.

And it's absolutely lovely.


All photos and GIFs via Aerie Man/YouTube.

The first thing you might notice about Aerie Man is its models: They're not what you'd typically see in a men's underwear line.

The brand — launched with the tagline, "the real you is sexy" — features models of all shapes, sizes, and colors. And just like its line of women's underwear, the photos and videos of Aerie Man models go through "absolutely no retouching."

The campaign is lighthearted and a bit tongue-in-cheek (pun intended).

There's Kelvin, who loves using his selfie stick.

And Devon, who enjoys boogying down in his living room.

Doug is a yogi, and proud of it.

And Matt ... well, Matt likes taking out the garbage.

Here's the catch, though: This Aerie Man ad may all be one big practical joke.

Yes, it's still only March, but ... there's evidence to suggest this might be less of a genuine campaign and more of an April Fools' Day joke.

After the ads launched, several media outlets — like this one, that one, and others — wrote about the line, praising its inclusiveness. And with good reason! There's been much to celebrate when it comes to diverse body types in the male modeling industry lately (take, for instance, Zack Miko, the world's first "brawny" — not to be confused with "plus-size" — model).

But The Huffington Post, however, spotted something a little fishy after it reached out to American Eagle regarding the Aerie Man story: The word "spoof" was in the file names for the images Aerie provided. Is Aerie Man trying to pull a fast one on all of us?

Hmm.

So we wanted to get to the bottom of it. Is this ad campaign real? Or is it an early April Fools' Day prank?

When asked about the authenticity of the campaign, American Eagle told Upworthy the message behind the line is, in fact, genuine:

"American Eagle Outfitters is letting guys know they are more than their messy man buns and deeper than six-pack abs. It's about loving yourself inside and out!"

That answer is great, of course ... but for a company which, by the way, has a history of pulling pranks, it still skirted answering the actual question. We could all be getting punk'd this very moment.

Update (April 1, 2016): American Eagle released a statement noting the campaign was at least in part an April Fools' prank but reaffirmed its policy for no-retouching on men’s underwear or swim lines in the spirit of body positivity.

Regardless of American Eagle's intent, though, the is-it-or-isn't-it buzz around the story says a lot about how we talk about men's bodies.

Men certainly have body issues too. And according to research, this may be a growing problem.

"Bodyimage dissatisfaction is more prevalent among womenthan men," a recent study out of Canada's University of Victoria found. "But men may be becoming more negativelyaffected and women less so."

"Our findings support theassertion that men are more commonly becoming thetargets of mass media images, resulting in more emphasison the muscular ideal."

About 10 million of the approximate 30 million Americans who are suffering from a clinically significant eating disorder are men, according to the National Eating Disorders Association. And men in the LGBTQ community seem to be disproportionately affected.

So why do we so often overlook these guys when discussing body positivity?

What does it say that Aerie Men's campaign could even be a joke — that we'd see a campaign celebrating diverse male bodies and assume that it's just some lighthearted fun, mocking the idea that men have body insecurities too? Would a brand ever launch a body positivity campaign directed at women as a "joke"?

Fortunately, there's reason to hope men's beauty and fashion industries are evolving.

Even if Aerie Man's campaign is the result of an April Fool's spoof, the praise the campaign has received is a clear indicator that things are moving in the right direction.

"I’m glad brands and companies are starting to see the need for male body diversity in fashion," Kelvin Davis — yep, the same Kelvin sporting the undies above — told BuzzFeed. “I think it’s long overdue, and what better way than to celebrate men in diverse sizes?”

Check out Davis and his model friends in Aerie Man's campaign video below:

This article originally appeared on August 27, 2015

Oh, society! We have such a complicated relationship with relationships.

It starts early, with the movies we are plopped in front of as toddlers.

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This article originally appeared on August 27, 2015

Oh, society! We have such a complicated relationship with relationships.

It starts early, with the movies we are plopped in front of as toddlers.

Keep Reading Show less
True

Each year, an estimated 1.8 million people in the United States are affected by cancer — most commonly cancers of the breast, lung, prostate, and blood cancers such as leukemia. While not everyone overcomes the disease, thanks to science, more people are surviving — and for longer — than ever before in history.

We asked three people whose lives have been impacted by cancer to share their stories – how their lives were changed by the disease, and how they're using that experience to change the future of cancer treatments with the hope that ultimately, in the fight against cancer, science will win. Here's what they had to say.

Celine Ryan, 55, engineer database programmer and mother of five from Detroit, MI

Photo courtesy of Celine Ryan

In September 2013, Celine Ryan woke up from a colonoscopy to some traumatic news. Her gastroenterologist showed her a picture of the cancerous mass they found during the procedure.

Ryan and her husband, Patrick, had scheduled a colonoscopy after discovering some unusual bleeding, so the suspicion she could have cancer was already there. Neither of them, however, were quite prepared for the results to be positive -- or for the treatment to begin so soon. Just two days after learning the news, Ryan had surgery to remove the tumor, part of her bladder, and 17 cancerous lymph nodes. Chemotherapy and radiation soon followed.

Ryan's treatment was rigorous – but in December 2014, she got the devastating news that the cancer, once confined to her colon, had spread to her lungs. Her prognosis, they said, was likely terminal.

But rather than give up hope, Ryan sought support from online research, fellow cancer patients and survivors, and her medical team. When she brought up immunotherapy to her oncologist, he quickly agreed it was the best course of action. Ryan's cancer, like a majority of colon and pancreatic cancers, had been caused by a defect on the gene KRAS, which can result in a very aggressive cancer that is virtually "undruggable." According to the medical literature, the relatively smooth protein structure of the KRAS gene meant that designing inhibitors to bind to surface grooves and treat the cancer has been historically difficult. Through her support systems, Ryan discovered an experimental immunotherapy trial at the National Institutes of Health (NIH) in Bethesda, MD., and called them immediately to see if she was eligible. After months of trying to determine whether she was a suitable candidate for the experimental treatment, Ryan was finally accepted.

The treatment, known as tumor-infiltrating lymphocyte therapy, or TIL, is a testament to how far modern science has evolved. With this therapy, doctors remove a tumor and harvest special immune cells that are found naturally in the tumor. Doctors then grow the cells in a lab over the next several weeks with a protein that promotes rapid TIL growth – and once the cells number into the billions, they are infused back into the patient's body to fight the cancer. On April 1, 2015, Ryan had her tumor removed at the NIH. Two months later, she went inpatient for four weeks to have the team "wash out" her immune system with chemotherapy and infuse the cells – all 148 billion of them – back into her body.

Six weeks after the infusion, Ryan and Patrick went back for a follow-up appointment – and the news they got was stunning: Not only had no new tumors developed, but the six existing tumors in her lungs had shrunk significantly. Less than a year after her cell infusion, in April 2016, the doctors told Ryan news that would have been impossible just a decade earlier: Thanks to the cell infusion, Ryan was now considered NED – no evaluable disease. Her body was cancer-free.

Ryan is still NED today and continuing annual follow-up appointments at the NIH, experiencing things she never dreamed she'd be able to live to see, such as her children's high school and college graduations. She's also donating her blood and cells to the NIH to help them research other potential cancer treatments. "It was an honor to do so," Ryan said of her experience. "I'm just thrilled, and I hope my experience can help a lot more people."

Patrice Lee, PhD, VP of Pharmacology, Toxicology and Exploratory Development at Pfizer

Photo courtesy of Patrice Lee

Patrice Lee got into scientific research in an unconventional way – through the late ocean explorer Jacques Cousteau.

Lee never met Cousteau but her dreams of working with him one day led her to pursue a career in science. Initially, Lee completed an undergraduate degree in marine biology; eventually, her interests changed and she decided to get a dual doctoral degree in physiology and toxicology at Duke University. She now works at Pfizer's R&D site in Boulder, CO (formerly Array BioPharma), leading a group of scientists who determine the safety and efficacy of new oncology drugs.

"Scientists focused on drug discovery and development in the pharmaceutical industry are deeply committed to inventing new therapies to meet unmet needs," Lee says, describing her field of work. "We're driven to achieve new medicines and vaccines as quickly as possible without sacrificing safety."

Among the drugs Lee has helped develop during her career, including cancer therapies, she says around a dozen are currently in development, while nine have received FDA approval — an incredible accomplishment as many scientists spend their careers without seeing their drug make it to market. Lee's team is particularly interested in therapies for brain metastases — something that Lee says is a largely unmet need in cancer research, and something her team is working on from a variety of angles. "Now that we've had rapid success with mRNA vaccine technology, we hope to explore what the future holds when applying this technology to cancers," Lee says.

But while evaluating potential cancer therapies is a professional passion of Lee's, it's also a mission that's deeply personal. "I'm also a breast cancer survivor," she says. "So I've been on the other side of things and have participated in a clinical trial."

However, seeing how melanoma therapies that she helped develop have affected other real-life cancer patients, she says, has been a highlight of her career. "We had one therapy that was approved for patients with BRAF-mutant metastatic melanoma," Lee recalls. "Our team in Boulder was graced by a visit from a patient that had benefited from these drugs that we developed. It was a very special moment for the entire team."

None of these therapies would be available, Lee says without rigorous science behind it: "Facts come from good science. Facts will drive the development of new drugs, and that's what will help patients."

Chiuying "Cynthia" Kuk (they/them) MS, 34, third-year medical student at Michigan State University College of Human Medicine

Photo courtesy of Cynthia Kuk

Cynthia Kuk was just 10 years old when they had a conversation that would change their life forever.

"My mother, who worked as a translator for the government at the time, had been diagnosed with breast cancer, and after her chemotherapy treatments she would get really sick," Kuk, who uses they/them pronouns, recalls. "When I asked my dad why mom was puking so much, he said it was because of the medicine she was taking that would help her get better."

Kuk's response was immediate: "That's so stupid! Why would a medicine make you feel worse instead of better? When I'm older, I want to create medicine that won't make people sick like that."

Nine years later, Kuk traveled from their native Hong Kong to the United States to do exactly that. Kuk enrolled in a small, liberal arts college for their Bachelor's degree, and then four years later started a PhD program in cancer research. Although Kuk's mother was in remission from her cancer at the time, Kuk's goal was the same as it had been as a 10-year-old watching her suffer through chemotherapy: to design a better cancer treatment, and change the landscape of cancer research forever.

Since then, Kuk's mission has changed slightly.

"My mom's cancer relapsed in 2008, and she ended up passing away about five years after that," Kuk says. "After my mom died, I started having this sense of urgency. Cancer research is such that you work for twenty years, and at the end of it you might have a fancy medication that could help people, but I wanted to help people now." With their mother still at the forefront of their mind, Kuk decided to quit their PhD program and enter medical school.

Now, Kuk plans to pursue a career in emergency medicine – not only because they are drawn to the excitement of the emergency room, but because the ER is a place where the most marginalized people tend to seek care.

"I have a special interest in the LGBTQ+ population, as I identify as queer and nonbinary," says Kuk. "A lot of people in this community and other marginalized communities access care through the ER and also tend to avoid medical care since there is a history of mistreatment and judgement from healthcare workers. How you carry yourself as a doctor, your compassion, that can make a huge difference in someone's care."

In addition to making a difference in the lives of LGBTQ+ patients, Kuk wants to make a difference in the lives of patients with cancer as well, like their mother had.

"We've diagnosed patients in the Emergency Department with cancer before," Kuk says. "I can't make cancer good news but how you deliver bad news and the compassion you show could make a world of difference to that patient and their family."

During their training, Kuk advocates for patients by delivering compassionate and inclusive care, whether they happen to have cancer or not. In addition to emphasizing their patient's pronouns and chosen names, they ask for inclusive social and sexual histories as well as using gender neutral language. In doing this, they hope to make medicine as a whole more accessible for people who have been historically pushed aside.

"I'm just one person, and I can't force everyone to respect you, if you're marginalized," Kuk says. "But I do want to push for a culture where people appreciate others who are different from them."