Our Research

Sepia tone photograph of a women giving herself a vaginal exam using a mirror and a flashlight.

Karissa Patton and Whitney Wood, Canadian Historical Review, 104, no. 2 (June 2023): 169-197.

This article explores the impact of self-examination as a tool of feminist resistance, an act of preventive health care, and a site where mainstream and alternative health models were debated in late twentieth-century Canada. In the early 1970s, a range of women’s health groups increasingly turned their liberationist critiques towards the structures of mainstream medicine, and the self-exam became a vehicle that allowed women to push back against what they cast as the systemic power imbalances involved with the traditional doctor-patient relationship. Both breast and pelvic self-exams became staples of the women’s health movement as feminists encouraged women to take health care into their own hands, both figuratively and literally. As the decade progressed, breast self-examination transformed from a niche feminist technique to a relatively commonplace preventative health practice, increasingly discussed within popular women’s magazines across North America. Pelvic self-examination remained more controversial as the practice was denounced by a small but vocal group of Canadian physicians, resentful of lay incursions into medical practice. Drawing on women’s magazines and feminist newsletters, archival files from Canadian women’s health centres, and debates about self-examination in national newspapers, we reveal how shifting narratives about women’s liberation, responsibility for preventative health practices, and medical authority intersected in the feminist practice of self-examination.

Close up of a women's wet hand with brightly coloured fingernails gripping the edge of a white tiled bathtub

Agnes Arnold-Forster, Rita Maria Conry,
and Gemma Duncan

Take a moment and think about the parts of your body that you can’t live without. Your heart. Brain. Stomach. Perhaps your lungs. For many, the bladder isn’t something that immediately comes to mind when asked this question. But when your bladder and urinary tract isn’t working as it should, thinking about your bladder becomes life-consuming. This is the situation for women living with recurrent and chronic UTIs, and yet, their path to health and wellbeing is frustrated by misdiagnosis, outdated tests, and restrictive treatment guidelines.

​In this film, a cross-section of women share their lived experiences of UTI and its chronic and recurrent forms. Their stories are as unique as they are extreme. But what these women all have in common is they’ve been treated as unreliable witnesses to their own illnesses, and believe primary care needs to do better.

Pencil artwork drawn over an engraving depicting a wooden panelled room with two men in the distance looking towards an unclothed woman lying on her side on her table, clutching a pillow to her front.

Jaipreet Virdi, Wellcome Stories

From adolescence I was told that pain is a normal part of growth. My pain was simply the pain of my body growing, a marker of my journey towards adulthood that began with menarche (the first occurrence of menstruation). Like many other girls, I was embarrassed, perhaps even frightened, by the first spots of blood. Whispered solutions and targeted advertising had instructed me what to do, and my mother’s realisation of this new change reassured me I was doing things correctly.

What is the nature of pain? How do we talk about pain and assess it seriously when the history of modern medicine is built on the transfer of authority from the patient’s subjective experiences to the physician’s objective diagnosis? This is not a broad, sweeping history. It’s a personal one. I am one of an estimated 200 million women worldwide whose body has experienced extreme pain and physical distress that has been routinely dismissed by physicians. It is only pain, I was repeatedly told, as the agony engulfed my life.

Close up shot of the hip joint of a woman sitting on a white toilet

Agnes Arnold-Forster, Refinery29, (June 27 2023)

A few summers ago, 20-year-old Beth was a student, working part-time at her local garden centre. She had had urinary tract infections (UTIs) on and off since she was 15. When cranberry-flavoured cystitis relief sachets failed to alleviate her symptoms, she’d go to her GP, who would prescribe three days' worth of antibiotics. A UTI is an infection of the kidneys, urethra, bladder or ureters. Around one in every two women will get a UTI  at some point in their life (current studies don't account for trans and non-binary people with gynaecological systems). For most people, it will be short-lived and easily cleared up with a brief course of antibiotics. But for the unlucky, like Beth, the infection and symptoms persist and recur for months, years or even decades. 

Painting of a mid-twentieth century hospital. A small metal framed bed sits next to a room divider.

Jaipreet Virdi, Synapsis: A Health Humanities Journal,
(3 April 2
022)

With endometriosis, you live in a land administered by crip time, existing in a liminal space controlled by flareups sending tendrils underneath the flesh, binding organs together, scarring muscle and tissue. The pain overwhelms you, steals your time, and twists your bodymind into grotesque forms such that you no longer recognize yourself. You mourn the loss of previous capacities and imagined futures.

Elaine Scarry taught us pain exists outside of language, and Havi Carel convinced us illness is the cry of the flesh. Can pain exist outside of space? I think pain is grief.

Close up of the arms of a women clutching her lower abdomen. The woman wears a cream coloured sweater and navy blue trousers.

Agnes Arnold-Forster, Inews, (4 October 2021)

Around 60 per cent of women will get a Urinary Tract Infection (UTI) at some point in their life, and around half of those will have recurrent infections. For an unlucky but not insignificant minority, regular infections can turn into a chronic condition. If an infection goes untreated, the bacteria can become embedded, and can last for months or even years. UTIS are frequently dismissed as mild or mundane infections that can be easily managed by over-the-counter medications. but this caricature fails to capture the scale of suffering that can be inflected by the condition.