Neknomination, the online drinking game that has led to cases of hospitalisation and death, has inspired a range of social media responses. You'd have to be pretty churlish to pick on one that has raised thousands of pounds for breast cancer care. Nipnominate urges women to post pictures of themselves in their bras; hashtagged #bangerstocancer, it links to a Just Giving page where those enjoying the pictures can donate to the campaign – like a feelgood, charity version of Nuts or Zoo. Michelle Kent, the founder, has already raised £2,500.

But to me there's something offensive about seeing pictures of healthy women in push-up bras posting cleavage shots to support breast cancer sufferers. Breast cancer is a devastating illness. It isn't sexy. Attempting to "fight" it with amateur glamour shots is an exercise in narcissism, and trivialises a serious medical matter. The model Brandy Brewer was praised for lending her support to the campaign and introducing a considerable number of Twitter followers to the fundraising effort, but the lacy bra, lip gloss and open-mouthed expression on her selfie seems to say "Hello boys", not "I'm here for the girls".

Women who haven't suffered from a debilitating illness, but claim that a sexy selfie is a good way to boost their body confidence, need to think hard about their motives. From where I'm standing it doesn't look like a show of support, but an attempt to titillate. If I'd had a mastectomy, I wouldn't feel comforted or supported if a group of attractive, healthy women tweeted pictures of their bouncing breasts to boost the profile of breast cancer care. I'd feel alienated and angry. We tacitly treat breasts as the ultimate feminine attribute, which makes it all the more traumatic and bewildering if you lose them. If we're going to help breast cancer survivors, we need to challenge and criticise this way of thinking. Why are we celebrating breasts, when we should be celebrating women?

If we're going to raise awareness of the issues surrounding breast cancer, we really don't need to start by raising awareness of breasts. They're everywhere. You can see them on TV in the afternoon, and in some of our national newspapers. The problem is that almost all the breasts on display are ornamental. They're being offered up for someone else to look at. We still can't make our minds up about whether or not it's OK to breastfeed in public, but we've become used to constantly seeing breasts, or the suggestion of breasts, in a sexual context. The trouble with nipnominate is that it isn't showing breasts and bodies in a revolutionary or new way.

We might sigh if we saw pictures like these in a magazine, but we wouldn't raise our eyebrows. Raising money for breast cancer care is admirable. But it's a pointless endeavour if the fundraising activity contributes to and compounds the culture in which our breasts are only relevant if they're being admired by someone else's eyes.

Last week Beth Whaanga posted topless pictures of herself after she underwent a double mastectomy. At the end of 2013, the Mimi Foundation created a film documenting what happened when a group of cancer patients underwent "blind" makeovers, and were only allowed to look at the results when they were completed. These images are powerful and important because they show us that women's bodies can represent their strength and personal power. When your body bears the scars of life-saving surgery, and you have the courage and confidence to share those images with others in order to comfort and inspire them, the idea of posing with a pout and a pushed-up cleavage is laughable.

I won't be saying bangers to cancer, and I will urge every woman I know to weigh up whether or not it's really a good idea to post a nipnominate shot. But I will do everything I can to present my own body in a positive way, and to demonstrate that my breasts have a much bigger purpose and significance than the pursuit of sexiness. If I do post any pictures of myself online, I want them to demonstrate what my body does, rather than focusing on what it looks like. I'm keen to repost and spread the images shared by the brave, inspiring surgery survivors who have the guts to show us what they have gone through.

Whaanga said: "My scars are not ugly, they mean I'm alive" – and to me they're much more impressive than a perfect, pert cleavage. For too long we've seen women's bodies exclusively presented in a way that is supposed to please. Nipnominate will succeed only if it changes our perspective on our breasts. But that won't happen if it's just an excuse for us to get paid to get 'em out – even if it is for charity.