I recently watched a video by Brazilian journalist Milly Lacombe about pain—specifically, the invisible pains women endure throughout their lives. We don’t talk about them. Often, we don’t even realize they’re there, because we were raised to accept them as just part of life.
A quick Google search for “men trying period pain” returns pages and pages of results. I watched just one MTV video and, even though it’s framed as a joke, the men in it can’t handle it. It’s both validating and infuriating.
My teenage years were marked by excruciating menstrual cramps. I’d be doubled over, unable to move, needing to lie down and medicate to function. As I got older, I never missed work because of it. That pain—sharp, dull, relentless—became a monthly companion for over 40 years.
Milly says in her video: “A dor da mulher é privada; a dor do homem é pública.” Women’s pain is private. Men’s pain is public. We are taught to suffer in silence, to keep going. If we speak up, we’re being dramatic. Meanwhile, men’s suffering is met with concern, solutions, attention.
I have trouble listing other pains, not because there weren’t any, but because I learned to push them aside, to make them invisible—just like Milly described. I remember my mom once said I had a higher pain tolerance than most. What I don’t remember is why she decided that, or what I had already endured for her to make that claim.
I have several tattoos. Yes, they hurt. That doesn’t mean I enjoyed the pain. I didn’t. And depending on the time of the month, some sessions were much harder than others. But I stayed quiet and still—because that’s what we do.
I’ve carried heavy backpacks over long hikes in the mountains. Yes, I chose to go there. Just like I chose to have a child. But I didn’t choose the pain. I only agreed that pain would be part of the reward.
Pain, like so much else in a woman’s life, is expected to be endured quietly.
But maybe naming it—remembering it—can be the first step toward changing that.
Resources: Eve by Cat Bohannon



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