The Gender Pain Gap

Writer: Scarlett Lu
Editor: Sophia Millar

A few months ago, while scrolling on my beloved Instagram reels, I stumbled upon a striking (yet highly disturbing) story. It was being relayed by someone named Dr. Mary Claire Haver, who, I later learned, is an obstetrician-gynecologist and a New York Times best-selling author. She was being interviewed in front of a live audience, and her anecdote went like this:


On my first day as a medical intern, I was having trouble with a patient—a woman in her late forties, suffering from fatigue, bloating, joint pain, and headaches. She had normal test results and no clear answers.

So, I asked my chief resident for help. He skimmed the chart, asked a few questions, then smirked and said, “You’ve got a WW.


“Don’t write this in the chart,” he continued, “but that’s a whiny woman.” 


The Chief Resident didn’t invent that term; he was taught it. Along with others, like whiny gynies, frequent flyers, and the 3 Fs: fat, fertile, and female.

Yes—it’s no secret that women’s pain has been attributed to “female hysteria” and the derogatory depiction of women as needy and fragile. It’s what drives the gender pain gap, a systemic pattern of neglect in which women’s pain is routinely dismissed, undertreated, and psychologized. This gap is rooted in the knowledge deficit, the gendered credibility bias, and the deep-seated assumptions we have surrounding women’s pain. 

Although 70% of people with chronic pain worldwide are women, a staggering 80% of all clinical pain studies are conducted on male mice and men. Until 1997, women were almost entirely excluded from clinical trials—their childbearing potential and hormonal variations were seen as "interruptive" and too unpredictable.

Even though women are twice as likely as men to experience side effects like seizures, hallucinations, and depression from FDA-approved medications, the expectation is that symptoms should conform to the male medical standard. 

Pain in women’s bodies is unfamiliar and unexamined. Aside from cancer, only one percent of global research funding is invested in women’s health—so what are we to do except write it off as insignificant and exaggerated? 

But, as we’re well aware, the gender pain gap extends much further than simply ‘not knowing’ or not caring enough. Because even with the same conditions as men, women are still treated as unreliable narrators. Hence, the psychological credibility bias.

A 2024 PNAS study found that women’s pain scores were 10% less likely to be recorded by nurses, and women waited an average of 30 minutes longer in ERs. 

ICU nurse Karen Calderone explains that providers are trained to dispense narcotics sparingly to patients who “dramatize their pain,” but generously to those who stay stoic—because when a tough man needs help, it must be bad. 

Women are far more likely than men to be given sedatives or antidepressants to “calm them down,” following suit with the narrative that women’s pain is a consequence of emotional or psychological stress. Thus, women are steered towards meditation or cognitive behavioural therapy to think the pain away.

For conditions like endometriosis, this attitude means symptoms aren’t taken seriously, which is obvious given that endometriosis takes an average of 4-12 years to diagnose. Millions of patients each year report they feel pressured to downplay their pain, convincing themselves that everything is just in their head. 

 

So please, don’t suffer in silence. Listen to yourbody’s unmistakable signals of pain, and don’t confuse a single medical opinion as the final word.

Behind the Ivy HCComment