From T-Shirts to Impact: How I Built the Stupid Cancer Store
In 2012, we sold our first white Gildan 5000 t-shirt for $20. There was no inventory system, no marketing funnel, and no real supply chain. But that one shirt — with “Stupid Cancer” boldly printed across the front — sparked something bigger than I ever imagined.
What started as a side project to raise a little awareness and a few dollars for a cause close to my heart quickly became a fully operational lifestyle brand. Along the way, we outgrew systems, learned from stockroom mistakes, and navigated the unique balance of nonprofit values and ecommerce hustle. This is the story of how the Stupid Cancer store came to life.
Why We Needed a Store in the First Place
The Stupid Cancer community is bold, passionate, and proud. As a nonprofit focused on supporting young adults affected by cancer, our messaging was never subtle — and neither was our brand. People didn’t just want to donate; they wanted to wear their support. They wanted to make a statement.
At the time, we were using CafePress — a print-on-demand platform that allowed us to offer some designs, but we had limited control over quality, fulfillment, and, most importantly, profit margins. It was time to bring ecommerce in-house.
But as a nonprofit, we had to be smart. Donor dollars couldn't fund the merch line. So we launched the store with one low-risk product: a white tee, printed in bulk, paid for out-of-pocket. We built everything else from the ground up.
Building the Store, One App at a Time
As Chief Operating Officer, I wore a lot of hats — and one of them was ecommerce manager. I designed the early store infrastructure around automation, integration, and scalability. Our first major platform was Volusion, but I quickly realized we needed more customization and better reporting tools. That led us to Bigcommerce, a platform that offered the flexibility I needed to tinker under the hood.
Apps became my team.
Slack gave me a dashboard to watch customer activity, Zendesk tickets, and incoming orders — all from my phone.
Zapier and Kevy were the glue, connecting platforms like PayPal, Trello, and Mailchimp without writing a single line of code.
Evernote became my product spec vault.
Inventory Planner helped me make smarter purchasing decisions and understand product velocity.
Zendesk allowed us to manage omnichannel customer service across email, Facebook, and Twitter, without letting anything fall through the cracks.
Without these tools, there’s no way we could’ve scaled the store — especially with a lean team and no dedicated ecommerce department.
From Tiny TriBeCa Office to a 3PL
Initially, I fulfilled every order by hand — literally packing and shipping shirts out of our Lower Manhattan office. Eventually, the growth caught up with us. We ran out of space and time.
The next milestone was transitioning to a third-party fulfillment partner (3PL). After attending eTail West and getting a few rejections for being too “small,” I found a partner in Karol Fulfillment in Pennsylvania. They understood our needs, automated our inventory management, and helped us scale up production without sacrificing flexibility.
The move allowed us to expand our product line — more colors, more sizes, more types of apparel — without worrying about how we’d store or ship it. It also enabled us to take advantage of bulk pricing, lowering production costs and improving margins while still keeping prices accessible for our community.
Profit vs. Purpose: Walking the Line
We were never in it for the profit — but that doesn’t mean the store didn’t have to operate like a real business.
Yes, the store helped fund programs and overhead. But for me, it was equally valuable as a visibility engine. Every person wearing a Stupid Cancer shirt was a walking billboard for the movement.
That’s why we sometimes sold items at a loss or ran flash sales and free shipping weekends. We launched “grab bags” full of retired designs and promo items, just to surprise customers and keep the momentum going. It wasn’t just ecommerce — it was community-building through merchandise.
I was also keenly aware of our audience. Many of our customers were in treatment or financially strained. So while I aimed for a 50% gross margin, I never let the numbers override our mission. We priced with empathy.
Lessons from the (Virtual) Frontlines
Over the years, I’ve made plenty of mistakes — ordered too many shirts, misjudged which designs would resonate, neglected to use minimum inventory alerts — but each mistake taught me how to run a smarter, leaner operation.
Some of my key takeaways:
Automate early, and often. Time is your most valuable asset, especially when you’re wearing multiple hats.
Don’t over-order. Stale inventory isn't just a cash drain — it becomes a storage problem if you're using a 3PL.
Use pre-orders to test demand. One of our best sellers was a holiday sweater we launched via a 99Designs contest and pre-sold through email and social media.
Design matters, but community matters more. Our best customers didn’t just like the design — they loved what it stood for.
The Results
Since 2012, the Stupid Cancer Store has fulfilled thousands of orders and created millions of impressions for the Stupid Cancer brand. It has funded programs, sparked conversations, and connected survivors in ways we never could have predicted.
But more than anything, it proved something I believe deeply: Nonprofits can — and should — build revenue models that are mission-aligned, community-centered, and operationally strong.
Ecommerce wasn’t just an income stream for us — it was a catalyst for awareness, engagement, and loyalty.
Final Thoughts
If you’re a nonprofit thinking about starting a store, do it with intention. Don’t aim to just “sell stuff.” Build something that deepens your community’s connection to your mission. Use tools that scale with you. Track what matters. And above all, remember that every shirt, hat, or hoodie is an opportunity for someone to say, “Hey, me too.”
Because when it comes to impact, that’s where the magic starts.
