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Representative Image | Source: Stígur Már Karlsson /Heimsmyndir | Credit: Getty Images
One day, I asked a friend how she was doing—how her migraine had been lately, whether the pain had eased at all. She paused, then said something that stayed with me. “You’re the first person who asked about my health without advising me.”
Most conversations about her migraine, she told me, quickly turn into instructions or warnings. Her mother-in-law often reminds her to “treat it properly.” Not because the pain affects her daily life, but because “otherwise the future generation might suffer.”
The concern sounds caring, even responsible. But it reveals how deeply women’s health is tied to motherhood in everyday thinking. My friend’s pain was not the central issue. The imagined child she might have someday was.
Why Don’t Men Face the Same Questions?
This made me wonder: do we speak about men’s health the same way?
When a man is unwell, the concern usually focuses on his recovery—on helping him feel better, return to work, or regain normalcy. His health is seen as personal and complete in itself.
Women’s bodies, however, are often viewed as something else: as future spaces for reproduction. Their health is monitored not primarily for their own well-being, but as care in advance for someone who does not yet exist.
Pain becomes tolerable. Discomfort becomes normal. Concern becomes conditional.
Women's Health as Preparation, Not a Right
From a young age, many girls are told to “take care of their health.” But this advice often comes with an unspoken purpose. Eat well—for pregnancy. Avoid stress—for fertility. Don’t ignore pain—because it might affect childbirth one day.
Sociologist Ann Oakley argued that gender roles are not natural; they are learned through everyday life. In the same way, ideas about women’s health are also taught. Girls learn to care for their bodies not primarily for themselves, but to prepare for socially expected futures—most often, motherhood.
Over time, health stops being a right linked to personhood. It becomes a responsibility tied to reproduction.
What the Data Reflects
This framing is not just social—it is institutional.
Research supported by the European Institute for Gender Equality shows that women tend to live longer than men but spend more years living with chronic illness or disability. Survival is prioritised over long-term quality of life, particularly beyond women’s reproductive years.
In India, the structure of the National Family Health Survey (NFHS-5) reflects similar priorities. Women’s health data largely focuses on fertility, maternal care, contraception, and child health. Conditions unrelated to pregnancy—such as chronic pain, migraines, or mental health—remain under-recognised and under-addressed.
What is not adequately counted is easier to ignore.
Reclaiming Health as a Right
Listening to my friend, I realised how rare it is for women to be asked about their health without judgment or expectation. I also realised how easily we internalise these ideas ourselves—how women learn to minimise pain, delay care, and justify rest only when it serves others.
Reclaiming women’s health as a right, rather than a reproductive duty, is not radical.
It is necessary. Because women’s bodies are not waiting rooms for motherhood. They are lives already being lived.
Authored by Preeti Singh. Views expressed by the author are their own.
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