This week is Black Maternal Health Week, and I want to share a story I haven’t always had the words or courage to tell.
A few years ago, after I weaned my second child at 14 months, my lactation didn’t stop. I waited, assuming it would resolve naturally. It didn’t. Eventually, I visited my family doctor, who referred me to an OB/GYN.
At that first appointment, the doctor told me what I was experiencing was “normal” and that I should wait it out. Then, rather abruptly, she asked if I was on any family planning. That wasn’t why I came. Still, I listened politely as she handed me a pamphlet.
Months later, symptoms persisted. By then, we were deep into the COVID-19 pandemic — masked, standing on red tape in a clinic hallway thick with uncertainty.
When I finally saw her again, the message was the same: “Wait it out.” Again, she brought up family planning. This time, she asked me to undress and prepare for an insertion procedure — while I was on my period. I hesitated but complied. As I sat in the gown, something in me said: “Enough.” I got dressed.
When she returned, surprised to see me clothed, I said: “It’s my period. I’m not comfortable.”
She replied, “It’s okay if you are.”
I had to insist again that I wasn’t.
Looking back, I understand something I couldn’t articulate then: this wasn’t just discomfort. It was a quiet form of violence — the normalization of dismissal, of not being heard.
Years later, I’ve sat in rooms filled with Black women — some with similar stories, some with different ones. What connects us is not just pain, but the shared experience of being overlooked.
Here in Canada, we lack national data on Black maternal health outcomes. Many physicians rely on U.S. or U.K. research. A 2016 McGill study found that 8.9% of Black women gave birth preterm compared to 5.9% of white women. It’s one of the few Canadian studies that tells part of our story.
But beyond that? Silence.
We must talk about racism in health care to disrupt it. That’s why I’m telling this story. That’s why Styled Soul exists — to make space for ours.
Our stories are not just anecdotes.
They are evidence. Because when we are not heard, we bleed in silence. But when we speak, when we write, share, and witness each other — we begin to heal. That’s what Styled Soul was created for. A space where our voices are not just welcomed, but necessary. Where Black women’s health stories are held with care, and where healing begins with being believed. If this story resonates with you, we invite you to share your own.
Email us at stledsoulseries@gmail.com or visit www.stylesoulseries. com, to contribute to our living journal.
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