I never knew how loud whispers could be until I began listening to women.
Not just my mother, or my sister, or my friends, though their voices matter too but women I met during my travels, women I met in clinics, in crowded waiting rooms, under the dim lights of rural hospitals, and through late-night emails that began with: “I don’t know who else to talk to.”
These whispers aren’t always actual sounds. Sometimes, they come in the form of glances, silences, or half-finished sentences. Sometimes, they’re written in shaky handwriting on pieces of paper passed to health workers. And other times, they’re loud cries for help that the world continues to ignore.
This is not just my story; it’s the collective whisper of women across the globe. And it’s time we all start listening.
The Whisper in My Own Home
I grew up in a family where women were strong but quiet. My mother rarely complained, even when she was clearly in pain. I remember seeing her clutch her stomach often, her face pale and lips tight. When I’d ask what was wrong, she would just smile and say, “It’s nothing. Just a woman thing.”
That phrase “a woman thing” followed me like a shadow into adulthood.
It wasn’t until I grew older that I realized what she had was endometriosis. She had suffered in silence for years, brushing off the pain because doctors either didn’t take her seriously or didn’t know how to treat it. She believed pain was normal. That silence was her strength.
But it wasn’t just her. It was her friends too. Aunties, neighbors, church women, all of them lived with discomfort as if it were a badge of honor.
And then I started to wonder: How many women around the world are whispering the same pain?
What I Heard in Nigeria
A few years ago, I visited a rural health center in Nigeria. I wasn’t a doctor, but I was working with an NGO focused on maternal health. I met women who had walked for miles just to see a nurse, some carrying babies, others heavily pregnant.
One young woman, barely 19, sat with her hands clenched in her lap. She had just lost her second baby. No doctor had ever explained to her what preeclampsia was, or why her legs kept swelling and her head throbbed during pregnancy. She thought she was cursed. Her mother agreed.
Nobody told her it was a treatable condition. Nobody told her it wasn’t her fault.
She whispered to me, “If only someone had told me earlier… if only someone listened.”
Voices from India
In a slum in Mumbai, I met a group of women who gathered once a week to talk about their health. But they didn’t call it a health meeting, they called it “Chai Time.” Because if they had said it was about menstruation, or infections, or their fears about giving birth, their husbands wouldn’t have allowed them to leave the house.
One woman, Rina, shared how she had never seen a gynecologist in her life. Not once. Her mother never went either. When I asked why, she shrugged.
“Who will listen to us?” she said. “Even when we speak, they say it’s just women’s complaints.”
The Shame Around Menstruation
One of the most heartbreaking whispers I heard came from a 12-year-old girl in Uganda who told me she had to skip school every time she got her period. She didn’t have access to sanitary pads, and the fear of staining her uniform made her stay home.
That one week each month became a wall between her and her dreams.
Can you imagine losing a quarter of your education just because your body bleeds?
When I asked if she had told anyone, she shook her head. “I’m too ashamed,” she whispered. “They’ll laugh.”
Even the Educated Whisper
You’d think that in wealthier countries, things would be different. But even in the U.S., the U.K., and Canada, I found whispers in the form of online forums, anonymous support groups, and private messages.
One woman in New York told me it took her six years to get diagnosed with PCOS. Another shared how her doctor dismissed her postpartum depression as “baby blues” and told her to “just get some rest.”
The silence isn’t always because women don’t want to speak — but because they’ve learned that even when they speak, they’re not believed.
The Power of Listening
In all these places — Nigeria, India, Uganda, the U.S. one thing connected the women I met: they all had something to say, and they all believed no one would listen.
And then I realized… maybe the world isn’t silent. Maybe it’s just not listening.
Health systems are designed mostly by men, mostly for men. Clinical trials often leave women out. Medical textbooks under-represent female anatomy. Even today, a woman’s pain is more likely to be considered emotional or exaggerated.
We call it “women’s health,” but in many places, it’s treated like a side issue.
From Whispers to Action
The good news is, things are starting to change, but we have to keep pushing.
Grassroots organizations are rising. Women are telling their stories on blogs, in podcasts, in books. More female doctors are entering the field. Policies are being written to address menstrual equity, reproductive rights, and maternal care.
But we can’t wait for global health systems to catch up on their own.
We need to create a world where a woman doesn’t have to whisper her pain, her fears, or her questions.
We need to teach girls that their health matters and that their voice matters too.
My Own Whisper
For the longest time, I was afraid to share my own story. I thought it was too small. That my health challenges weren’t “bad enough.” That I should just be grateful they weren’t worse.
But then I remembered the girl in Uganda. The woman in Mumbai. The mother in Nigeria. If their voices mattered, then so did mine.
So here it is:
I once ignored my body to appear strong. I once believed that I should be able to push through anything. But now I know strength is in honesty. Strength is in seeking help. Strength is in whispering the truth loud enough until someone finally listens.
Final Takeaway: A Lesson for Us All
If there’s one thing I’ve learned from listening to women around the world, it’s this:
A whisper can become a roar. But only if we dare to listen.
Women everywhere are whispering the same things:
- “Why does it hurt?”
- “Why won’t anyone believe me?”
- “Why do I feel ashamed?”
- “Why am I alone in this?”
We need to build a global health system that answers these questions, not with silence or shame, but with care, compassion, and attention.
If you’re reading this, I hope you remember: Your voice matters. Your story matters. And your health matters.
Let’s stop whispering. Let’s start changing the world.