I was 38 and a half when I was pregnant with my child. My ultrasound referral slip gave the reason for the scan as “late maternal age.” It could have been worse; I could have been described as having a geriatric pregnancy or being an elderly primigravida (first pregnancy after 35). Perhaps I should count myself fortunate that I did not have a lazy uterus after the birth, although my stalled labour could have also been defined as a “failure to progress.”
Later, after I had my child, I met women who were told they had an incompetent cervix, an incarcerated uterus, or an inhospitable womb. I also learned that some people were told they had a blighted ovum or that their recurrent miscarriages meant they were habitual aborters. Now that I am post-menopause, it appears I am at risk of hosting a senile vagina, although I’ve read they like to call it vaginal atrophy these days.

Back in June, I came across a post by the Female Quotient on Instagram that identified several negative terms used to describe reproductive issues affecting people with uteruses, vaginas, and ovaries. The account wrote:
When it comes to women’s health, words aren’t just words. Language shapes perception, influences decision-making, and can impact how women experience healthcare. Some of this terminology reflects assumptions about women’s bodies that have persisted for decades, even as medicine has evolved.
I never felt elderly at 38 (even now approaching my mid-60s, I find it hard to imagine I am—gasp—a senior!), and I resented the implication that my age implied greater fragility, increased risk or diminished agency with my pregnancy. I can’t imagine what it would be like to hear I had an incompetent cervix, for example, as if infertility were a personal failure instead of a structural malfunction.
We see similar things with fitness language. Women shouldn’t lift weights because they will look masculine, develop big muscles, or become less feminine. As none of those possible outcomes pose any threat to the world turning on its axis, I have always wondered why these would be bad things.
Certainly, I desire bigger muscles so I can do all things like drag soil around my garden, or pull stubborn tree roots, or shift bricks for an ornamental wall. I also enjoyed slinging sacks of oats, beans, raisins, and lentils for my bulk food club without needing extra help when we were active, or carrying all the groceries in one go from the car. Who wouldn’t want to be able to do those things?
Using language that embeds assumptions about social expectations for acceptable behaviour or appropriate appearance perpetuates those stereotypes. Instead, what if we used positive language to describe interventions? We might not achieve success, but we could feel better about the effort to make something work the way it should instead of blaming the individual for the problem.
MarthaFitat55 has a lot of thoughts and feelings about language, inside and outside the gym.
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