Why pain suffered by women continues to be overlooked - Daxa Patel
A major international study published this week revealed a gender pain gap and found that women report more pain than men across every part of the body examined. Researchers analysed self-reported pain data from more than six million people across 118 countries at 11 different sites of the body. Women reported a higher prevalence of pain.
Am I surprised? Sadly, no.
I spent years as a clinical negligence solicitor and acting for elderly, and vulnerable clients. I cannot offer a scientific explanation for why women report more pain, but my professional experience taught me something else: women are not always listened to. They can be ignored, disregarded and, at times, treated with something approaching contempt. We have all heard the dismissive phrases: ‘It’s a woman thing’ or ‘It’s her hormones’.
What does that mean? That the pain is imagined, emotional or all in the head?

Something that should work in women’s favour sometimes works against them. Women may be more willing to articulate how they feel, physically and emotionally, yet repeated expression can be mistaken for exaggeration. The person who keeps saying something is wrong risks becoming the person others stop hearing.
There is another problem. We live in a world in a hurry. Listening with compassion takes time. Modern systems increasingly reward speed over understanding, and medicine is not immune from those pressures.
I experienced a small example during profound personal grief when antidepressants were suggested to me. I declined, I was grieving and needed to process that grief, not medicate it away. That is not an argument against antidepressants, which can be essential. It is an argument against reaching for a label and solution before understanding the person before us.
The consequences of not listening can be more serious. When pain speaks, we must be able to listen with compassion.
We need only remember the experiences of women affected by vaginal mesh, whose suffering went unheard for far too long. I acted for mothers where decisions during childbirth had devastating consequences.
I also witnessed women whose first language was not English, and women from different ethnic backgrounds, facing additional barriers to being heard.
Bias enters the room quietly, settling into assumptions, cultures and habits until certain voices carry less weight than others, and it is normalised.
This is not simply a story about men failing women. Women can fail to treat other women with compassion and respect too. History provides painful examples, including the treatment of unmarried mothers during the era of forced adoption. Nor should we pretend men have an easy relationship with pain.
Boys and men have long been told to toughen up, grit their teeth, and bear it. Women may risk being dismissed when speaking about pain while men can be conditioned not to speak about it at all.
The deeper issue is the imbalance of power that accompanies vulnerability and how quick we are to label others.
Medicine asks patients to surrender a great deal. We reveal intimate details about our bodies and minds, submit to investigations and treatments, and place our trust in people whose expertise we need. That expertise matters enormously, but it should never become superiority.
If a patient has mental capacity, they remain the greatest authority on what it feels like to inhabit their own body. A clinician understands the medicine and can advise upon investigation and treatment but cannot experience another person’s pain.
The best clinicians I encountered understood that distinction. They were prepared to ask: ‘Tell me more’. They recognised that listening is not separate from clinical care; often it is where good clinical care begins.
Respect must travel both ways. In an age of Google and artificial intelligence, clinicians increasingly encounter patients armed with internet research and sometimes mistaken conclusions. Patient-centred care does not mean the patient is always medically right, but it means their experience deserves to be heard alongside clinical expertise.
Martha’s Rule is a powerful acknowledgement of what can happen when that fails. Introduced following the death of 13-year-old Martha Mills, it provides an escalation route for patients, families and carers who fear someone is deteriorating and their concerns are not being addressed. The latest NHS England figures show that 17,490 calls were made between September 2024 and June 2026. More than 3,000 resulted in changes to treatment, including 685 transfers to enhanced or specialist care.
Sometimes the patient or family sees something the system has missed. Listening does not diminish professional expertise; it strengthens it.
Daxa Manhar Patel is a leadership coach, author and solicitor.