Menopause didn’t diminish me. It revealed my deepest strengths. There are moments when you realise you’ll never be the person you once were. For some, it’s illness. For others, grief or loss. For me, it was menopause. If you’d told me ten years ago that perimenopause would become my life’s work, I would have laughed. Back then, all I felt was exhaustion, sleepless nights, aching joints and a creeping “brain fog” that stole words mid-sentence. Anxiety arrived without warning. I no longer recognised the woman I’d always known.
Who I thought I was
Before perimenopause, I saw myself as strong, reliable, deeply capable. I balanced marriage, motherhood, multiple jobs, housekeeping, even a law degree. I’d built a new life in a foreign country. I took pride in solving problems, caring for others, pushing through every challenge.
But perimenopause quietly dismantled all my certainties. The competent woman I trusted vanished, replaced by fear and self-doubt.
When silence became the loudest symptom
My cultural background taught me to keep personal matters private. You endure in silence. You pray. You stay strong. So I carried my confusion alone, never having had a single conversation about menopause in forty-plus years. No one warned me that hormonal shifts could disrupt sleep, concentration, joints, emotions, identity.
Blindsided by symptoms I couldn’t name, my mind filled in terrifying explanations: Was I dying? Did I have cancer? Dementia? Was I cursed? Without language or support, my fears escalated. The physical symptoms were hard enough, but the silence around them made the experience unbearable.
Caught between two worlds
As a Black African woman in the diaspora, I felt split in two. One world offered Western medicine and clinical data but often lacked cultural sensitivity. The other prized strength, endurance and faith-qualities that made it hard to admit vulnerability. Neither side alone could contain my experience. I needed care that honoured both my heritage and my individual needs.
Research confirms this: women’s menopause journeys are shaped by relationships, culture, social circumstances and personal meaning. We don’t experience menopause in a vacuum.
Evidence of inequality
The Study of Women’s Health Across the Nation (SWAN) has documented racial disparities. In the U.S., Black participants report more frequent and severe hot flushes and night sweats, lasting ten years on average versus six and a half for White women. These findings highlight how biology, chronic stress, discrimination and access to care intersect.
Telling every woman “menopause is natural” isn’t enough. We must acknowledge that symptom burden, barriers to care and information gaps vary across communities. Equity means listening to each woman’s story-not handing out identical leaflets.
”I thought it was just me”
When I finally learned my symptoms were perimenopause, relief washed over me. I wasn’t losing my mind. But relief shifted to anger: Why had no one prepared me? Why was this transition still shrouded in silence? Knowledge didn’t erase every hot flush or sleepless night. But it stripped away the fear. Women deserve timely, accurate, culturally relevant information long before they reach crisis point.
What menopause gave
I believed menopause stole my predictability, my sleep, my confidence, my clear thinking. Yet I’ve come to see it also made space: for deeper compassion, an honest redefinition of strength, community, shared stories, purpose. Purpose seldom arrives fully formed. For me, it unfolded through hundreds of conversations. One woman would share her story; another would say, “That happened to me too.” What began as isolated talks became a community. I listened to women who felt dismissed, frightened, ashamed.
From these conversations, the Ketura Woman Movement was born-not from a business plan, but from conviction: women need knowledge, language, culturally sensitive support and safe spaces to speak their truths.
Lived experience as qualification
Clinical expertise matters. But lived experience teaches lessons no certificate can: how to recognise fear beneath a question, how to listen without rushing to fix, how validation restores dignity, how empathy transforms pain into purpose. My suffering became wisdom only when I used it to clear the path for another woman. That is the true power of lived experience.
Midlife is not decline
Too often we view women’s ageing as loss. Menopause is portrayed as an ending. I reject that. Menopause can be hard, and we shouldn’t romanticise suffering. But difficulty does not equal decline. Midlife can be a season of refinement, when we ask: What matters most now? What have my experiences taught me? What legacy will I leave?
There is no single “right” way to experience this transition. Some women feel liberated; others are destabilised. Many feel both. Our stories deserve that complexity.
I am more than I was
Menopause was not easy, but knowledge made it manageable. Community made it less lonely. Purpose made it meaningful. Menopause changed my body, my confidence, my self-understanding. But above all, it revealed a purpose I never knew I carried. Menopause didn’t diminish me. It introduced me to a braver, more purposeful self. I can say with confidence: I’m not the woman I was before menopause.
I’m more.
