When I was younger, I remembered the kitchen turning into a collective of family midwives. Without understanding, they boisterously discussed the “change of life,” “personal summers” and somebody being “carefree, hot in the pants.” They waved their hands in praise, testifying, “Tell it!” “Who you tellin’!” “Just you wait!”
Their language seemed mysterious to me since I was less than six months into menarche. The only reason I was allowed in that sacred space was because I started my period. I was seen and not heard. But I was an audience in this menopause reverie.
Midwives, for centuries, chose who they passed on the secrets of the womb. These secrets included how to support those beyond their childbearing years and whose bleeding cycle unexpectedly came to an end. My family’s knowledge was passed down during the communing of the midwives and womb bearers.
Midwifery is individualized care. It’s my #1 favorite aspect of the profession. Midwifery includes the menopausal experience. In my one-hour appointments, each person is able to talk freely. I listen, gather precious information, hear their concerns, hopes and expectations, so that I can offer care that’s specifically designed for their journey. To improve their reproductive and menopausal health, we discuss their experience and the differences between perimenopause, menopause and post menopause stages. I want them to feel affirmed and know where they are on their journey. Fourteen years later, and over 50 perimenopausal, menopausal and post-menopause clients later, the individualized care model remains.
(This essay is part of the latest Women & Democracy installment, published in the middle of Black History Month, in partnership with Black Girls’ Guide to Surviving Menopause. Menopause is not only a physical transition—it is also cultural, social and political. Recognizing its full scope is essential to advancing true health and civic equity.)
