Written by Precious Nwosu
“When someone repeatedly feels dismissed or unheard in medical settings, it doesn’t just stay about that one appointment. It becomes a pattern that the nervous system starts to recognise,” says Amari Leaphart, a Licensed Marriage and Family Therapist.
Medical spaces are designed to diagnose, treat and reassure. Yet, for many women, especially those navigating hormonal or reproductive concerns, they are often met with dismissal or an experience that leads to distrust.
A 2024 study by Karen B. Rosenbaum notes that there is a long history of male physicians not taking women’s symptoms seriously. In one example, actress Gilda Radner of Saturday Night Live reportedly exclaimed, “Thank God, finally someone believes me,” after eventually being diagnosed with ovarian cancer, following earlier misdiagnoses.
When Black Women Are Dismissed
On the 16th of April, 2026, a feminist content creator, The Diary of a Tired Chef, sparked widespread conversation online after joking that if the biblical woman with the issue of blood were alive today, she would still need to touch the hem of Jesus’s cloak to get healed because after 2000 years, conditions like PCOS and endometriosis still have no cure. While her concern was laced with humour, many women understood her point: that their pain is often minimised, dismissed, and insufficiently researched.
Research shows that about one in five Black women report being treated unfairly by a healthcare provider because of their race or ethnicity, and a similar share of those who have been pregnant say they were refused pain medication they believed they needed.
I remember my own experience clearly.
At 19, after struggling with a hormonal imbalance that impeded my monthly menstrual period flow for four months, my mum, scared and worried, took me to the hospital hoping for answers. After laying down my complaint plus my mum’s observation, the doctor, an elder with a white moustache, paused for some minutes before offering his advice: “You need to get married now to avoid infertility in the future.” For full context, I was a third-year undergraduate with no intention of marriage or children anytime soon.
That statement startled me. Marriage and babies are responsibilities that involve intentionality and a fully developed frontal lobe to navigate them. Why would a hormonal concern need a marital tie or the need for me to birth children at that early stage to manage it?
But experiences like mine are not isolated.
Doyin recalls a similar interaction with a doctor over severe menstrual pain. “The doctor “jokingly” said I should marry and have kids early if I didn’t want menstrual cramps anymore because there was no cure for it.”
The Emotional Exhaustion of Constantly Feeling Unheard
For other women, the withdrawal from medical spaces is not only shaped by dismissal but also by the emotional exhaustion of constantly feeling unheard.
Binta remembers visiting the hospital after giving birth via caesarean section due to persistent pain and numbness. At first, the doctor was kind and answered her questions, reassuring her that the pain was part of the healing process. However, as she persisted, asking about the possibilities of an infection, he snapped, “He got pissed and said, ‘Madam, I said, it’s normal pain,’ and as you can see, I have other patients waiting for me.’ I stood up and left.”
Over time, experiences like these shaped her perception of the hospital and how she approached healthcare entirely. “The stress isn’t worth it,” she explains. “You wait for hours, and when it finally gets to your turn, the doctor is already overwhelmed. I only go for my children. When it comes to my kids, I go to the hospital for proper tests and to have the doctors administer medication.
Binta, however, frustrated with the healthcare system, resorts to self-medication and pharmacies instead of formal consultations. “When it comes to understanding my body, I kind of already know my symptoms,” she says. “My general symptoms for malaria are body aches and weakness, so I don’t need a doctor to confirm it.”
Still, she acknowledges the risks involved in self-medication. “There is no proper medical lab test to confirm the diagnosis; it is only based on symptoms.”
The Turn To Online Spaces and Communities For Help and Answers
With little to no other option, many turn to online communities for answers and help. WhatsApp groups, X women’s groups, TikTok communities, Reddit girl groups, Google searches, AI tools and other online forums rank in searches like “Is it possible to lose a tampon in there?”, “Sometimes I notice acne or tiny bumps down there. Do I have STDs?” because they offer the privacy and empathy many women seek.
For some women, these spaces, including Google and AI, are emotional substitutes for formal healthcare. One woman—Bolu—explains that she increasingly turns to Google searches instead of hospitals because digital spaces feel emotionally easier to navigate. “I’d have to go to the hospital, sit down and wait for a doctor that might not even see me that day. I can just go online and search and maybe self-medicate.”
Bolu has also faced dissatisfaction with care from male doctors who seem not to understand women’s bodies. “I feel like men, including male doctors, don’t really understand women’s bodies, although they are educated. I remember going to the hospital with my mum about menstruation and hormonal imbalance and the doctor could not even help us.” She said, “I’ve not seen this before; he just couldn’t understand and made us confused, offering no sort of suggestion.”
During another visit to yet another male doctor, prompted by a prolonged disruption in her menstrual cycle, she expected medical tests, explanations, or guidance. Instead, the consultation quickly shifted toward questions about sexual activity and relationships. Unfortunately, he is not the only one.
“The first thing they ask is ‘Do you have a boyfriend?’ ” She recalls. “Their mind just goes to immorality.”
Though some of these questions may have been medically routine, the experience left her feeling judged rather than reassured. “There are some things I feel ashamed talking about because I rarely feel comfortable around male doctors.” She says. “Most of the doctors I’ve seen are men, and I’m always shy about discussing my body with them.”
Over time, privacy began to outweigh professional reassurance. Rather than repeatedly navigating conversations that made her uncomfortable, she started relying on online searches and digital spaces instead. “I’d rather just go online and search because nobody knows,” she says. “It’s just me, my phone, and my Google history.”
According to Leaphart, repeated discomfort in healthcare settings can slowly train the body to anticipate emotional harm before treatment even begins. “What should feel like a place of healing can start to feel like a place the body has to survive,” she explains.
That anticipation can eventually reshape behaviour. “Avoiding care becomes a coping mechanism when emotional safety feels compromised,” Leaphart says. “People begin prioritising what feels emotionally safer, even when they know it may not be the best option for their long-term health.”
What Now?
This tension leaves many women negotiating care in private ways: between pharmacies, internet searches, traditional remedies, previous prescriptions, and instinct. Hospitals are not always abandoned entirely, but for some women, they become spaces visited only when symptoms feel unbearable or emergencies leave no other option.
“When women say, ‘I’ll only go if it’s serious,’ what I hear is, ‘I don’t fully trust this space, but I know I may still need it,’” Leaphart says.
Until that trust is rebuilt, many women will continue to negotiate care elsewhere, even with knowledge of the risk those alternatives might carry.
