One

The onset of menopause is shrouded in a blanket of doom, a grief for youth, an end to being noticed anymore. I stand at the supermarket checkout, my attempts at conversation falling on deaf ears, as the young checkout girl chats to her colleague, aimlessly throwing my products vaguely in my direction, without the merest glance. I have slipped into the invisible years, no longer being recognised as a part of society. I melt away in my mind as I am melting in my body, a heat that rises like a radiator being bled. Then, as the fog sets in, I forget the pin number for my card, because the world is now a series of tip of the tongue moments, as I grasp for the words as they float in front of my eyes then speed off into the wilderness of parts of my brain I can longer reach.

Yet sometimes I refuse to fall into these socially inflicted conventions and decide to explore this time of life as a time of reformation. A time when I finally feel that I don’t have to care what I say or what people think. I want to turn the tables of these assumptions that I so easily fall into. What else might menopause be, when we see it not as the end of fertility, but the beginning of invention and liberation? What might menopause look like if viewed through a creative art project? The artist collides with the clinician, art and science explored through storytelling, imagery and sound. How will these intersections open up new possibilities for understanding menopause?

Two

I began to question how societal and cultural views may vary on the subject of menopause and how this could affect our experiences. Whilst there is no denying the physical and hormonal changes that occur, other cultures around the world celebrate menopause and research shows that the negative effects (even physical) are not nearly as prominent as those in the West. Could developing a more positive attitude towards menopause help deal with the whole process. Can we adapt the way we think by using some of these beliefs and practices?

From the vibrant celebrations in Western cultures to the ancient rituals in Eastern, African, and Indigenous cultures, menopause is honoured and navigated in unique ways. These traditions provide women with a sense of belonging, support, and empowerment as they embrace the wisdom and resilience that come with menopause.

 A common belief among traditional shamanic cultures — for example, Mayan women and the Cree women of Canada — is that women must enter menopause to access their shamanic and healing powers. Menstrual blood has the power to create life in the womb, so when women reach the age of retaining their “wise blood,” they cross the threshold into “wise womanhood” by keeping their wise blood within. At this point they become priestesses and healers — the spiritual leaders of their communities.

(Gonzalez, 2024)

 Wouldn’t it be amazing if instead of diving into the depths of a negative experience when going through menopause, we felt celebrated?

 Japan is a leading country when it comes to handling menopause well. In fact they had to create a new word for hot flashes, hotto furasshur, as so few women suffered them.

With less of the health symptoms too that can come after menopause, it is thought that this maybe to do with the amount of soy in the diet, as this has estrogenic like effects.

 Another factor that may influence Japanese women’s experiences of menopause is collective cultural attitude. In Japan, menopause is looked upon as a natural life-stage, and the very word for menopause, konenki, means renewal, season and energy. (Chandler, 2021)

 In Japan  generally, they are much more attune to positive ageing and celebrate turning  60. They have a word for it, Kanreki.  The word “ derives its meaning from the words kan (return) and reki (calendar). Simply put, turning 60 is viewed as your chance to start over again. (Stanislav, 2023)

 When I was six years old I had a Japanese best friend, Akiko. She had come to live in London as her father was working for Japan Air. She spoke no English and I no Japanese, but we were at an age where physical language did not matter. When she returned to Japan a few years later I was heartbroken Some 30 years later she came to London to visit and stayed in a lonely B&B in the back end of Earls Court. We met a few times. She still had no English and I no Japanese but this time it mattered. I attempted to take her back on a memory trail of our childhood but it was difficult and strained. It made me realise that the innocence of childhood goes beyond language. The connection and understanding we had of each other before the words got in the way was so strong. We were without the barriers and caution that comes with adulthood. It would be interesting to ask her about her experience of ageing and menopause, or would it be weird? I think somehow, in each other’s eyes we will always be six not heading quickly towards Kanreki.