15.08.20// PCOS: Please call on self-love.
Editor’s Note:
We have chosen this piece by Aaminah Hafezi as our spotlight this week because it beautifully highlights the intersection of culture and societal standards in defining ‘womxnhood’ in the context of a Muslim South Asian community. Aaminah’s strength in managing her PCOS is inspiring and shines unfiltered light on an experience common to so many.
By Aaminah Hafezi
15 August 2020
A personal journey through Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS) coming from a perspective of a Muslim South Asian 21 year old.
PCOS.... It's weird, so many of us have those 4 letters within us but are unaware. For me, it began when I didn’t start my period. 17 years and I had not had the joy of complaining of cramps, not panicked because I ran out of pads, not had a gap from fasting in Ramadhan... So many experiences I hadn't gone through because I had yet to start my period. I was a 17 year old who was yearning for this thing that every woman usually complains about. In all honesty, it was because I wanted to feel like a woman. My body had developed but I just hadn't flipped that final switch that says, "you have reached puberty!", and that I struggled with. Was there something wrong with me?
Then, this 4 word thing was uncovered after I had pushed the Doctor for a referral. I was underweight with excessive hair growth, something quite common in the South Asian community. However, for women with Polycystic Ovary Syndrome, it's more likely that you’ll be overweight, so I continued to sit under the radar. The crazy thing is, that once I was diagnosed, I felt so much relief that I, myself, wasn't the problem that I was almost happy that I had a condition, these cysts on my ovaries. Thank God I had PCOS, right?
Unfortunately, it wasn’t long before I realised that this condition challenges most societal views of beauty... Overweight, excessive hair, issues with fertility, no periods... The list goes on. My hair was starting to get out of control. My face, especially my chin area, started developing really coarse black hair. My insecurities grew with every follicle that I uncovered. My chin area started to get dark and grey-ish and the comments came with it. Asian aunties constantly giving me tips on how to remove my hair, home remedies and pointing it out, as if I didn't see it every morning in the mirror. In their eyes, they were being helpful, but I was made to feel that I was stupid and blind. I scrubbed my face till it was red, waxed constantly and continuously threaded but the ingrown hairs and shadows just wouldn't leave. Even the beauticians blamed me for shaving and “self inflicting” this, despite that fact I never touched a razor. I felt judged. No matter how much make-up I used to cover it up, I could still see it as clear as day. To cope, I joked about the masculinity in my features and covered it all with a smile and superficially positive energy. In my eyes, the person in the mirror was not a woman, she was not beautiful.
PCOS's grey cloud hung over the me when it came to the matter of fertility. At 17, the Doctor told me, "we are discharging you but, when you are wanting to have children, we may need to have a chat about it". My Mum's initial response was, "oh no! What do we tell your future in laws?". At 17, all that seemed so far away and so I brushed it under the carpet.
However, slowly but surely, everything you’ve brushed away starts to creep up on you. Like I mentioned, I am from a South Asian Muslim family, so a lot of girls tend to have an arranged marriage at the age of 22/23/24. Right now I'm 21, but the deadline, if we want to call it that, is looming. How do I tell my future whoever about the uncertainty of my having kids? Do I tell them that now, or after? Do I tell them I may be a problem? Will they judge me because of it? My anxiety just heightened thinking about it. The thing is, with PCOS, it doesn't make you infertile and it definitely doesn't mean that you can't have kids, but it just *may* be a bit harder. That's why even approaching this with someone else, with all the lingering uncertainty, is hard; I don't want to scare them off. Our community makes it such that having your own kids is the goal and, if there aren’t kids, the woman is shunned or questioned constantly.
All this added pressure really doesn't help your own mental health. I was actually once asked, "is it possible for you to have a test before you got in a relationship with someone to determine if you can or can't?". LIKE, WHAT?! WHO WOULD WANT TO DO THAT?! Who would want to put themselves through that emotional rollercoaster? In my opinion, not everyone will agree, that test validates my insecurities. It would validate the feelings I felt of not being a woman. It would validate the perspective that a female's womanhood and self worth is defined by her fertility. It would validate that I had to tick a box!! At first, I fed into the notion that I need to please everyone else. However, now, I have comfortably come to terms with completely rejecting their expectations.
It has been a long ride to come to terms with everything going on and I want to say to my women out there with PCOS, or anything that challenges the norms of femininity - YOU ARE A WOMAN, YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL AND YOU ARE NOT ALONE. These are words of positivity I have had to ingrain in myself and these words act as a reminder when the insecurities get too much. We are not defined by others. I wear PCOS on my sleeve. Those who love us will stand with us and support us. Living in constant worry about meeting the stereotypical standards of beauty, or fitting the perfect narrative, is forever impossible.
I was blessed enough to start laser surgery and, although it is expensive, believe me when I tell you I have seen real improvements. I feel more comfortable with myself and I can handle my hair growth a lot better. It still hasn't got rid of it all, but I have been able to cope. A dear friend of mine told me that if I owned it all and wore it with confidence- stuffed the concealer, the foundation and colour corrector- I would feel so much more content. She was right and that was the day I reclaimed the way people view me. I started to be open about my struggle and opened the floor to conversation. I discovered so many people I knew were going through similar difficulties. I began to accept the fact that being open, even about fertility and arranged marriage, and saying it all with confidence really impacts the way people view you. If you express any of these insecurities with slight doubt, you give room for people to force their opinions and views on you. Even if you don't truly believe it yet, fake it till you make it, my loves! Otherwise, you live in their light and not your own.
At the beginning, I questioned my thanking God for this diagnosis… but I really do thank Him. I feel stronger even on the days I don't want to leave the house because the hair is too bad, even when the thought of having to share all this with the world may be a bit much, I thank God. This journey has changed me and made me the woman I am. It has taught me how to self love, the power of confidence and so many more things. It's not all roses but, because of that, I have been able to grow and connect with more women than I ever thought I'd know.
What the world tells you is beauty and womanhood doesn't define YOU, nor should you live in fear because of it. Sometimes someone needs to say it out loud for you to accept it. You are worthy with all your imperfections and there are blessings hidden in your journey, you just need to find them. Learn to love every imperfection, they are yours to keep.
Aaminah is a 21 year old from Manchester, UK. She proudly identifies as Muslim, Indian and a girl that has snuck her way into medical school. She works with @mediclaunch to help pre medical students get into medical school. She is also working with the British Islamic Medical Association this year as part of their Lifesaver's campaign where she encourages the Muslim community to come together and learn Basic Life Saving skills.