If Men Had The Manopause
If men had manopause, the world might stop for a moment — a global pause in productivity charts and economic forecasts — to make space for the mystery of change. There would be research, committees, and televised debates. There would be supplements with clever branding, “performance-friendly” desk chairs, corporate wellness programs for hormonal support, and prime-time discussions on the Man in Transition.
If men had manopause, there would be compassion embedded in policy. Workplaces would have “heat-wave rooms” with soft lighting and breathable fabrics. Sports pundits would speak with reverence about “the resilience of the middle-aged man, powering through night sweats to play his best game.”
Doctors would listen differently — not to dismiss symptoms as stress or mood — but to map the terrain of what it means to lose equilibrium. Because if men had manopause, we would name it a rite of passage — a season of wisdom, not a symptom to suppress.
But women do.
And every day, they rise through the fog — conducting meetings while their hormones are rehearsing new choreography in the background. They soothe children while navigating heart palpitations that come unannounced. They smile through migraines, hold space for others’ emotions while their own bodies call out for rest, recalibration, and understanding. They listen to society whisper “you’re fine” or “it’s all in your head” — as though endurance were the measure of worth.
Women are expected to hold it all together, invisibly. To remain composed, productive, desirable, and self-contained — while inside, the body is unravelling and reweaving itself in sacred and chaotic rhythm. There is little ceremony for this transformation, no cultural acknowledgement of the extraordinary alchemy happening beneath the surface.
If men had manopause, the world would call it evolution. When women have it, the world calls it “a phase.”
And yet, despite the silence, women continue to move through it with grace and grit — navigating power surges, emotional tides, and moments of startling clarity that reveal new truths about who they are.
So this is not a complaint, nor a comparison. It’s a reminder. That women have been living through this unspoken metamorphosis for centuries — often unseen, often unsupported — yet still creating, leading, loving, healing.
If men had manopause, the world might finally see what women already know: That the body’s seasons are sacred. That power can coexist with vulnerability. And that change, no matter how inconvenient, can be the most profound teacher of all.
If we are to truly consider equality in the workplace—not in the narrow sense of compliance or diversity metrics, but in the deeper sense of human understanding—then it is time to make space for the full continuum of women’s biological experience. Pregnancy has long held a visible, if limited, place in workplace policy, yet fertility struggles and menopause remain largely invisible, whispered about, or endured in silence. To create environments of genuine equality, we must recognise that hormonal transitions are not private inconveniences but integral parts of life that deserve acknowledgment, flexibility, and support. A truly equitable workplace is not one that treats everyone the same, but one that honours the realities of being human—fertility, menopause, and all.
Start the Conversation in Your Workplace
Menopause, fertility, stress, and women’s health are integral parts of overall workplace well-being. When organisations make space for these conversations, they empower their teams, improve engagement, and create cultures of genuine care.
If your workplace is planning a Wellness Day, Self-Care Week, or wants to open dialogue around Women’s Health, Fertility, Menopause, Stress Management, or Mindfulness, I offer tailored talks and workshops designed to educate, inspire, and support.
Complete the connect form to start the conversation — because when we understand and support women’s health at work, everyone benefits.
