I woke up at 3:30 a.m. the other night with pain.  

The kind of pain I know well.  

After years of workups and countless scans, I’m almost certain it’s tied to my endometriosis—flaring and quieting in rhythm with my perimenopausal journey. 

I’m not sharing this for advice or remedies. I share it because I was angry that night—angry and exhausted, pacing the bathroom, finally falling back asleep after five. The pain itself was hard, yes, but what struck me most was how disruptive it felt to everything else. 

The truth is, I can function today because I have a life with enough space to be unwell sometimes. Many of us don’t. Not because we’re doing something wrong, but because our world—driven by exploitation, capitalism, and deep inequities—was not built with our womb health in mind.  

Even for those of us with privilege—education, income, power—our lives often leave no room for a bad night, no room to slow down, no grace for the emotional toll of womb pain. 

This is why I wrote A Terrible Strength and why I insist that womb health is not optional.  

I even say something that might sound extreme: put womb health at the center of your health journey. 

Because when you do, everything shifts.  

Your priorities, your boundaries, your self-worth.  

When something as sacred and personal as your womb sets the agenda, the external world must follow. That is radical self-possession. That is the kind of care I want for every one of us—care that ripples outward to those we love and those who love us. 

So, I ask you: How can you create a little more space in your life this month? 

Space to rest.  

Space to heal.  

Space to let your womb lead. 

Love y’all,  

Kemi