Imagine feeling like you have to hide a natural part of your life, something that affects half the population, just to avoid judgment or embarrassment. That's the reality for many women experiencing menopause, and it's a problem that goes far beyond personal discomfort.
Last November, I shared a quick LinkedIn post about my own struggle with brain fog during perimenopause. Little did I know, it would ignite a national conversation. Hundreds of messages poured in, many calling me 'brave' for speaking out, while others thanked me for 'normalizing' this often-taboo topic. But here's where it gets controversial: if so many women are going through this, why is there still so much shame and stigma attached to menopause?
Celebrities like Oprah Winfrey and Halle Berry have openly discussed their menopause experiences, and advocates like Gwyneth Paltrow have called for a 'rebrand' of this life stage. Progress is being made—menopause screening is now part of NHS health checks in England, and UK employers with 250+ staff will soon need 'menopause action plans.' Yet, a recent survey by University College London revealed that over 75% of women feel uninformed about menopause. And this is the part most people miss: despite these advancements, many women still feel they can't openly discuss menopause without facing judgment.
Take the academic in her 60s who messaged me, admitting she downplays her 'menopausal moments' at work, even though forgetting policy terms in her field of expertise leaves her feeling embarrassed. This 'menopause masking' isn't just emotionally draining—it can lead to burnout. Fionnuala Barton, a GP and menopause specialist, warns that the energy spent hiding symptoms further depletes women's reserves, making them more susceptible to overwhelm. But is this concealment itself impacting women's lives in ways we haven't fully considered?
The NHS lists 34 possible menopause symptoms, from brain fog to vaginal dryness, each with its own challenges. One woman shared how vaginal dryness made walking painful, while another confessed to bladder weakness that now keeps her working from home. These stories highlight the creativity and resilience of women, but they also raise a question: Why should anyone have to navigate this alone?
Journalist Fiona Clark points out that many women go through stages of confusion, denial, grief, and acceptance when menopause symptoms begin. But if you're masking these symptoms, you're likely missing out on the support you need. This is especially true in the workplace, where an estimated four million UK women aged 45-55 are employed—prime menopause years. Jo Brewis, a professor at The Open University Business School, explains that masking symptoms at work creates 'intensive margin costs,' essentially adding an extra burden on those affected. Shockingly, one in 10 women aged 40-55 have left a job due to menopause symptoms, according to The Fawcett Society.
But here's a thought-provoking twist: What if our negative perception of menopause is partly cultural? In Japan, menopause is called 'konenki,' meaning renewal and energy, often referred to as a 'second spring.' Similarly, in many indigenous cultures, menopause is seen as a transition into wisdom and leadership. Could Western society's focus on negative symptoms be shaping our experience?
Anthropologist Melissa Melby, who spent a decade in Japan, notes that Western women are often given symptom checklists filled with problems, but rarely asked about positive changes. What if we shifted the narrative to include the potential for growth and renewal?
Of course, there's no one-size-fits-all solution. The menopause market, valued at over $17 billion in 2024, offers everything from supplements to life coaches, but these alone aren't enough. Employers, for instance, need to provide sensitive support, including training for managers and clear policies that recognize menopause as a legitimate reason for absence. But ultimately, it's our attitudes that need to change.
Over 70 years ago, anthropologist Margaret Mead coined the term 'post-menopausal zest,' declaring it a time of great power. So, while I'm still navigating my own menopause rollercoaster, I'm holding onto that idea—and the knowledge that I'm far from alone.
What about you? Do you think menopause masking is a necessary coping mechanism, or is it time to challenge the stigma head-on? Share your thoughts in the comments—let's keep this conversation going.
