Listen to Me!

by Presha Rajbhandari

The phone rang at the office of the Women’s Health Voice, the NWHN’s health information service at the National Women’s Health Network (NWHN). It was Wednesday and we interns were all there: Jaime, Lisa, Lauren and me. I reached for the receiver; a woman’s clear voice filtered through, words just tumbling out of her, one after the other. I interrupted her and asked her to slow down. She quickly apologized. As she paused for a moment to take a long breath, I braced myself for what I thought was going to be a long and difficult call.

The caller, a women in her mid-40s, was struggling with the decision of whether or not to have a hysterectomy. As I listened to her, I realized that I couldn’t do much to help her -- no one could. She was quite well-informed about her health condition, her options, and the consequences of her choices. I told her I’d send some information. It felt redundant, and I apologized for my inadequacy. She brushed off my apology, and told me that I had helped her by listening. “It was so good to have someone just listen to me”, she said.

Calls like these are very common at the Network. Women who are very well-informed about their specific condition and the treatment options often call -- not for information, but for someone to listen to them. Someone with whom they are comfortable to speak their mind. Someone who can validate their concerns.

As a girl raised in a conservative Hindu family in Nepal, I grew up listening to parents, elders, and teachers. But nobody wanted to listen to what I had to say. A lecture in class entailed listening to the professor but there was no discussion about what he had said. We listened. We memorized. We passed the exams. “Do you agree with me?” “What do you think?” “Can you bring in some of your perspectives to this subject?” Important questions such as these -- that stimulate you to think and be critical -- were never asked. My peers and I were not listened to, and we were never encouraged to analyze, be critical or speak our minds.

At home, living with an extended family of about 27 people, life was chaos. My mother was the eldest daughter-in-law, so she was in charge of running our huge household. In addition, she managed to raise two kids, earn a couple of degrees, and build a career. Despite all this, when it came to making important household decisions, she and the other women were rarely consulted. Bringing home money, putting food on the table every day, making sure that we have a clean home to come back to – these responsibilities did not earn women the right to speak or be listened to. I could see myself in my mother’s place a few decades later: educated, professional, a mother, and a wife. But when it comes to making decisions, both in the family and the society, would I be asked what I thought? Would I be listened to and considered seriously? Most importantly, would I want to speak, since I have never been asked to before?

I did not want to recast in this mould. I wanted to be more than a mother, a wife, a daughter, and a career woman. This was one of the several reasons -- but nevertheless a very important one -- that prompted me to start looking for colleges in the U.S. Ironically enough, it was these women, primarily my mother and my aunt, who backed my decision.

When I came to Grinnell College in Iowa for my Bachelor of Arts, I was constantly asked to analyze, to be critical, and speak my mind. It often took a lot of hard work and contemplation for me to generate intelligent things to say. It took a lot of courage to raise my hand and contribute to the discussion, both inside and outside of class. But, people were interested in what I had to say. Sometimes they agreed and sometimes they did not. They were sometimes critical. But, they listened. I had found a voice and an audience. I felt empowered.

I recently graduated from college. Outside the bubble of academia, I’ve realized that there are several battles to be fought for women -- not only in developing countries like Nepal, but also in the U.S. As a National Women's Health Network intern this fall, I received first-hand knowledge of the health policies affecting women in the U.S. For example, I learned that the Food and Drug Administration recently blocked over-the-counter availability of Emergency Contraception. With decisions like this being made without respecting women’s needs, it is clear that we need to speak out. We need to find our voice. And, we need to listen, so that others can find their voices, too. Then, perhaps, women will no longer need to search for an anonymous listener on the other end of the phone. They can find listeners in their doctors, family members, friends, and communities. As I wrap up at NWHN and start another adventure, I am confident that -- with my newfound voice and an aptitude for listening -- I will help more women to find their voice.

Presha Rajbhandari was an NWHN intern in Fall 2005. She graduated from Grinnell College, Iowa with a Bachelor of Arts degree in Chemistry and environmental studies in May 2005. She is interested in pursuing a career in International Health.