I'm Convinced No One Cares About Women's Health

(Originally penned by Maria Cassano.)

When I first heard about the copper IUD, I felt a wave of hope, relief, and empowerment. Finally, here was a long-term birth-control option that didn’t involve hormones and promised more than 99% effectiveness in preventing pregnancy. With excitement, I booked an appointment at my nearby OBGYN, only to face a small hurdle: all the female gynecologists were fully booked for the next 10 months.

"Would you be opposed to a male doctor?" the secretary asked.

“Not at all,” I replied, eager to proceed with the first available option. I had no qualms about the gender of the doctor, assuming that my concerns and comfort would be a priority in a medical setting.

A Painful Reality

At my preliminary consultation, I peppered the doctor with questions: Will this hurt? and What should I do to prepare? He reassured me, No and Nothing. The pamphlet they gave me reiterated the same message — simple, painless, and effective. I read it cover to cover, twice. I was ready.

However, on the day of the procedure, as I lay there with my legs in stirrups, my apprehension crept back. “I have an Advil in my bag. Should I take it, just in case?” I asked.

“Nope. You won’t need it,” the doctor confidently assured me.

What followed was the most excruciating pain I had ever experienced in my life. The IUD wouldn’t go in, and the doctor had to dilate me twice. I saw stars. The agony was unimaginable — and I once had two wisdom teeth pulled without anesthesia. A medical assistant later informed me that the level of cervical dilation I endured was akin to what women experience during childbirth.

It took me days to recover enough to walk without discomfort. Once I could, I began researching the reality of IUD insertion. Not the promotional material, but actual scientific data. What I found was staggering: studies show that nearly 60% of individuals who have not given birth experience moderate to severe pain during IUD insertion. And for 17% of them, it’s pure agony. Online forums like Reddit are filled with women describing the procedure as “the single most painful thing [they’ve] ever experienced.”

Why Hadn’t I Been Warned?

My experience left me feeling betrayed. Why had no one mentioned the potential pain? Why was I, like so many other women, led to believe that this procedure would be painless?

A conversation with a friend, a Certified Registered Nurse Anesthetist, shed some light on the issue: “It’s archaic,” she told me. “They’ll put you under anesthesia for an MRI if you’re claustrophobic. They’ll knock you out if you’re afraid of the dentist. But when it comes to women’s procedures, pain management isn’t prioritized.”

The irony? If I had to go through the IUD insertion again, I would — even with the dilation and pain — because protecting my autonomy over my body is essential. But it would have been nice to know what I was getting into.

Gaslighting in Women’s Health

Unfortunately, this wasn’t the first time I’d been gaslit by a gynecologist. Since I was 11 years old, I knew I didn’t want children. Throughout my adult life, I’ve tried numerous birth control methods, including the pill. The pill, however, was a nightmare for me — it caused severe stomach problems and wreaked havoc on my mental health, triggering both depression and anxiety.

When I approached my gynecologist about these side effects, her dismissive response was infuriating: “You’re just going through puberty. Give your hormones time to balance out.” I was 26 years old. She hadn’t even looked at my file.

This isn’t an isolated incident. For decades, women’s health concerns have been minimized, ignored, or dismissed. Birth control pills, for instance, have a controversial and painful history. Originally tested on impoverished women in Puerto Rico and on asylum patients without consent, the pill has long been known to carry serious side effects, including a 79% increased risk of depression. Yet women have been told for years that any issues with the pill are “all in their heads.”

Contrast this with the response to male contraception. In 2016, researchers developed a male birth control shot that effectively lowered sperm count and prevented pregnancy. The side effects? Acne and some discomfort at the injection site. Out of 320 participants, one man experienced depression, and the entire study was promptly halted.

The Gender Gap in Medical Research

Women’s health and well-being have historically been an afterthought in medical research. A vast gender gap still exists, and the majority of studies have been conducted on — and for — white men. In fact, it wasn’t until 1993 that Congress passed a law mandating that women and minorities be included in clinical research.

The consequences of this gap are staggering. Seventy-five percent of diseases that primarily affect women are underfunded. Meanwhile, conditions that disproportionately affect men receive far more attention and resources. For example, research funding for erectile dysfunction is six times higher than for endometriosis, a painful condition affecting 190 million women worldwide.

Toxic Products: Another Silent Threat

The disparities in research extend beyond medical procedures to everyday products that women use. A recent study found lead and arsenic in 30 different tampon brands, both organic and non-organic. These toxic metals, linked to reproductive health issues, should not be present in tampons at all, yet there has been little research into their potential impact on vaginal health.

Women who have long voiced concerns about the safety of tampons, citing worsened cramps and other issues, have frequently been dismissed or gaslit. Personally, switching to a silicone menstrual cup drastically reduced my cramps — perhaps because silicone has been tested and deemed safe for penile implants. Once again, a product’s safety is prioritized when it affects men, but not when it’s used by women.

The Need for Change

Women deserve better. We deserve informed consent, pain management, and research that prioritizes our health and safety. The gender gap in medical research must be addressed, and women’s voices must be heard and respected in all areas of healthcare.

While we continue to fight for autonomy over our bodies in a climate that increasingly seeks to restrict it, one thing is clear: science may not always have our backs, but we can push for change. In the meantime, we must continue to educate ourselves and advocate for our health — because no one else will do it for us.