I Didn’t Want to, But I Did It Anyway: Why I’m Normalizing Hysterectomy in Communities of Color
I love to write. Sharing stories, experiences, and lessons I’ve learned fills my love tank. This one is deeply personal, and I hope it reaches not just women, but also their partners and children. We have to break the code of silence, shame, and embarrassment that too often surrounds reproductive health, sexual health, and intimacy in communities of color. Share your thoughts, but most importantly, share your story. You don’t have to sit in silence.
I Didn’t Want To—But I Did It Anyway: Normalizing Hysterectomy in Communities of Color
When my doctor first said “hysterectomy,” I flinched. I’m a forward-thinking, creative Latina mom who fixes things, not someone who gives up pieces of herself. Then I talked to my tribe, did the research, and realized choosing relief isn’t giving up—it’s choosing me.
Why I Said “No”… and Why I Changed My Mind
The word carried weight I wasn’t ready to hold—identity, womanhood, the grief of changing a body that’s carried me through a lot. But pain had been running the house for too long. I called my circle. I listened—to women who look like me, mothers like me, friends who’d quietly gone through it and were finally honest about the before and after. I dug into options, outcomes, and recovery. The truth? I didn’t want to do it. I chose to anyway—because I deserve a life not managed around pain.
Facts, Not Fear: Where Hispanic/Latina Women Stand
Let’s put numbers on the table so we’re dealing in data, not whispers. In 2021 U.S. survey data, an estimated 12.5% of Hispanic women ages 18+ reported having had a hysterectomy, compared with 16.3% of non-Hispanic Black women, 15.6% of non-Hispanic White women, and 6.1% of non-Hispanic Asian women. 0
Route matters too. Studies show Black and Hispanic women are less likely to receive minimally invasive hysterectomies than White women—even when eligible—and more likely to get open abdominal surgery (with tougher recovery). 1
Translation: disparities don’t just show up in who has surgery—they show up in how it’s done and how quickly we heal. Knowing this helps you ask sharper questions and advocate for the approach that fits your body and life.
Pull Quote: “When we keep it quiet, we pass down a legacy of silence. I’m breaking that cycle—starting with my own kids.”
The Mom Layer No One Warns You About
Making the decision as a woman is one thing. Making it as a mom? Whole other level. I’ve got two teens—one daughter, one son—and I’m careful about the story I hand them. I don’t want Maddie to connect womanhood to fear, and I don’t want Cris learning that women’s health is something to whisper about. I want both of them to see this as advocacy, not defeat.
Timing-wise, it’s a circus. My surgery lands right in the middle of our family’s high season: their birthdays, then Thanksgiving and Christmas. Usually I’m the cruise director—cooking, decorating, making it all feel like us. This year, I’ll be in bed while the crew runs the ship. That means Cris and Maddie taking a few meals, Fred picking up more of the mental load, and me practicing the hardest skill in my skillset: letting go.
Our house will shift for a few weeks. Fewer elaborate dinners, more simple, cozy nights. Gifts ordered earlier. Chores delegated clearly. And a new family rule: if it helps Mom heal, it matters.
Breaking the Silence in Our Families
In many Hispanic households, medical stuff—especially anything involving our reproductive health—gets handled behind closed doors. Kids are “told later,” partners get the short version, and our aunties only hear about it after it’s done. That silence might feel safer, but it costs us. It’s why some of us suffer longer than we should and don’t know what’s normal—or what’s treatable.
I’m choosing something different. I’m telling my teens the truth in age-appropriate language. I’m inviting my partner into the plan. I’m asking for help before it’s urgent. Because the legacy I want to pass down is openness, not silence; advocacy, not avoidance; care, not martyrdom.
Your Pre-Op Power Plan (What I’m Doing)
I’m prepping my body for an easier recovery—gentle core and pelvic floor activation, posture work, leg/hip strength, daily walks, and breathwork. It’s not a “beach body” plan; it’s a circulation + stability plan so I can get out of bed, move safely, and heal faster.
- Core/Pelvic Floor: pelvic tilts, transverse ab breathing, modified dead bug, Kegels
- Legs/Hips: sit-to-stands, side leg lifts, heel raises
- Posture/Back: wall angels, light band rows
- Circulation: ankle pumps + 10–15 min walks
- Life Skill: practice rolling out of bed and using arms to push up
Want the quick-glance version? Download my one-page Pre-Hysterectomy Power Plan card and stick it on your fridge or save it to your phone.
Talk to Your Doctor Like the CEO of Your Body
- “Am I a candidate for a minimally invasive approach? If not, why?” 2
- “What are my non-surgical and uterine-sparing options? What are realistic outcomes for my case?”
- “What’s the recovery timeline by route (laparoscopic/vaginal vs. abdominal), and what support will I need?”
- “How will we manage pain without knocking me out of life for weeks?”
💌 Get My Post-Op Wellness Plan
Healing doesn’t have to mean halting your life. Sign up below and I’ll send you my Post-Op Wellness Plan: Your First 6 Weeks to Healing Strong—a simple, pretty card you can keep by your bed or on the fridge. You’ll get gentle exercises, posture tips, pacing strategies, and self-care prompts that make recovery feel less like a setback and more like a reset.
Sources
- CDC/NCHS Data Brief 494: Hysterectomy Among Women Age 18 and Older, United States, 2021 (age-adjusted prevalence by race/ethnicity). 3
- Pollack LM et al. Racial/Ethnic Differences in Hysterectomy Route—women of color less likely to receive minimally invasive approaches. 4