How Systemic Racism Shows Up in Your Health Today

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This article was written by Vanessa Weiland, Founder of Phases Clinic, and is republished on ForeverBetty with her explicit permission.

All rights to this article remain with Vanessa Weiland and Phases Clinic. We are honored to feature her evidence-based work as part of ForeverBetty's mission to make trusted menopause and hormone health education more accessible.

I had a somewhat uncommon childhood experience: I grew up as the racial minority in my neighborhood, despite being white. And I noticed, even as a kid, that certain things just felt a little easier for me. I was more likely to be called on in class. I was less likely to be followed through the corner store when I tagged along with friends to grab hot pickles. I don't think those teachers and store owners were overtly racist — I think they were responding to culturally conditioned assumptions, or showing a subtle preference for sameness. Still, the disparity was real. And I had my own fair share of racially targeted comments; enough to understand, in a small way, what it felt like to be on the receiving end.

It wasn't until a sociology class in college that I had language for what I'd witnessed: systemic racism. And it wasn't until nursing school — when I took Harvard's Implicit Association Tests — that I understood how deep it goes. Despite growing up with mostly Black friends, my results showed I carried anti-Black bias. Even more striking: my brain had a harder time associating women with science, despite the fact that I am a woman who had worked and published in science. That's the nature of implicit bias. It isn't a choice. It's absorbed.

So what does any of this have to do with menopause and chronic illness?

The Body Keeps the Score — and So Does the System

By the time a person of color reaches adulthood, they've experienced thousands of small behavioral shifts directed at them — subtle dismissals, assumptions, moments of hypervisibility or invisibility — based on culturally conditioned bias. These are often called microaggressions, and while each one may seem minor in isolation, each carries a physiological cost: a spike in cortisol, a surge of adrenaline, a moment of vigilance that the nervous system has to metabolize.

Over time, that accumulation has a name: weathering. First described by public health researcher Dr. Arline Geronimus in the mid-1990s, the weathering hypothesis proposes that the chronic stress of navigating racism accelerates biological aging in Black Americans — measurable in cellular markers, cardiovascular health, and immune function.¹⁻³ This isn't a metaphor. It shows up in lab values and life expectancy data.

When we talk about health disparities, we are often talking about the downstream effects of this lifelong physiological burden, compounded by barriers in access, trust, and quality of care.

Where Racism Intersects with Menopause and Midlife Health

Here's how systemic racism concretely shapes health outcomes for people navigating midlife and menopause:

1. More severe and longer-lasting menopause symptoms

Data from the SWAN study (Study of Women's Health Across the Nation) found that Black women experience more frequent and severe vasomotor symptoms — hot flashes and night sweats — compared to white women, with a median VMS duration of 10.1 years versus 7.4 years overall.⁴ Black women were also overrepresented in groups with persistent or late-onset symptoms.⁵ Notably, a separate SWAN analysis found that earlier menopause onset in Black women only became apparent after correcting for selection bias in the study design — a reminder that research methodology itself can obscure health disparities.⁶ Hispanic and Asian women show distinct symptom patterns as well, with Chinese and Japanese women experiencing shorter VMS duration on average.⁴ These differences are not simply genetic; chronic stress and discrimination have been associated with greater vasomotor symptom risk.⁷

2. Undertreated pain and dismissed symptoms

Research consistently shows that Black patients are less likely to have their pain adequately assessed or treated. A landmark study published in PNAS found that roughly half of white medical students and residents endorsed false beliefs about biological differences between Black and white patients — beliefs that correlated directly with lower pain ratings and less aggressive treatment recommendations for Black patients.⁸ Emergency department data spanning over two decades showed that white patients were significantly more likely to receive opioid prescriptions than Black patients, with no meaningful improvement over time.⁹ For someone navigating perimenopause — a transition already prone to dismissal as "just anxiety" or "just stress" — this compounds an already significant barrier to care.

3. Higher rates of fibroids and disparate surgical treatment

Black women are two to three times more likely to develop uterine fibroids than white women, tend to develop them at younger ages, and experience more severe symptoms.¹⁰⁻¹² The causes are multifactorial — genetic, hormonal, environmental — and research has associated self-reported experiences of racism with increased fibroid risk, though the exact mechanisms remain an active area of study.¹⁰'¹¹ What is well-documented is the treatment disparity: Black patients are more likely to be offered hysterectomy rather than less invasive options, even when research shows they are simultaneously more likely to prefer noninvasive approaches.¹¹ This gap between patient preference and clinical recommendation reflects systemic bias, not individual clinical judgment.

4. Earlier cardiovascular risk that goes unaddressed

Estrogen loss during menopause meaningfully increases cardiovascular risk for everyone — but Black women enter that transition carrying a disproportionate baseline burden. Non-Hispanic Black women have the highest hypertension prevalence of any group at over 55%, and SWAN-based analyses found that hypertension onset occurred a median of 5.4 years earlier in Black women than in white women, with isolated systolic hypertension onset nearly 8 years earlier.¹³'¹⁴ When cardiovascular symptoms are also subject to the same pattern of dismissal — attributed to anxiety or weight rather than vascular disease — opportunities for early intervention are lost at exactly the moment they matter most.

5. Compounding effects for people with complex chronic conditions

For patients living with hypermobility spectrum disorders, mast cell activation syndrome (MCAS), or dysautonomia, the menopause transition is already physiologically complicated. These conditions frequently overlap and are well-documented as sensitive to hormonal shifts.¹⁵⁻¹⁸ It's worth naming that the chronic stress burden associated with weathering — the sustained activation of stress-response systems — plausibly interacts with these conditions in meaningful ways, given what we know about stress, autonomic function, and mast cell behavior.¹⁹'²⁰ This is a clinical inference rather than a directly studied relationship, but it's one worth taking seriously for patients navigating both a lifetime of medical dismissal and a hormonally complex midlife transition.

6. Mistrust as a rational response — not a barrier to fix

Medical mistrust in communities of color is not irrational. It is historically grounded — in the Tuskegee syphilis study, in which the U.S. Public Health Service withheld effective treatment from approximately 400 Black men for four decades;²¹ in J. Marion Sims' development of gynecological surgical techniques through procedures performed on enslaved Black women without anesthesia;²²'²³ in ongoing maternal mortality disparities, where Black women die from pregnancy-related causes at three to four times the rate of white women.²⁴⁻²⁶ When a patient of color walks into a clinic guarded, that is a reasonable response to a system that has given them cause to be. The burden of building trust belongs to providers, not patients.

What Can We Do?

Awareness is a genuine first step — not because awareness alone changes anything, but because behavior change requires it. If you haven't yet, Harvard's Project Implicit offers free implicit bias testing at implicit.harvard.edu. The results can be uncomfortable. They were for me. But discomfort is part of the work.

For providers: examine your clinical assumptions. Who do you believe? Who do you dismiss? Who do you offer treatment to, and who do you ask to "try lifestyle changes first"? These patterns are often invisible until you look for them.

For patients: you deserve care that takes you seriously. If you are being dismissed, that dismissal is not a reflection of your symptoms' validity. Advocating for yourself in a system that requires it is exhausting, and it shouldn't be your burden alone — but finding a provider who listens is worth it.

At Phases Clinic, we take seriously that evidence-based care includes understanding the social determinants of health and the ways structural inequity shapes the bodies walking through our door. That's not a political stance. It's clinical reality.
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