Opinion | What we can all learn from Florence Pugh’s decision to freeze her eggs

A recent account from Oscar-winning actress Florence Pugh is a sober reminder that even with exceptional levels of fame and resources, women overwhelmingly lack basic tools to understand our own bodies, and overall health. 

After experiencing some difficult to place symptoms, Pugh visited a doctor, who suggested she undergo an egg count test — an unusual recommendation for someone who is only 27. The test ultimately led to a diagnosis of both polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS) and endometriosis. Pugh reportedly was shocked, but also relieved — it finally made sense, she told her physician Dr. Thaïs Aliabadi on the “SHE MD” podcast that Aliabadi hosts with Mary Alice Haney. For years, Pugh had dealt with symptoms like unusual hair growth and acne, which she had attributed to “being a woman” with a “slightly stressful life.” As it turned out, it wasn’t all in her head.

In the same podcast episode, Pugh described the diagnosis as a “mind-boggling realization.” Suddenly, she was forced to think about her future and her fertility, something she had assumed she had nearly a decade to consider. Advised to freeze her eggs, she followed through and is now sharing her story to encourage other women to take charge of their reproductive health and lives.

When I froze my eggs and documented the process for Armchair Expert’s “Race to 35,” I was struck by how difficult it was to get clear answers about my own body and how much of the responsibility fell on me to figure it all out. I was sent home with a collection of hormones and needles and expected to adhere to a rigorous regimen and mixing schedule, with the warning that a mistake could ruin the entire process. The mental strain of the entire ordeal  felt more taxing than the physical toll it was taking to inject myself everyday and get blood tests and transvaginal ultrasounds every 72 hours. 

I remember thinking that if men had to freeze their eggs, the service would include a personal nurse, a therapist, a chef, a driver, and probably a life coach. The potential for errors, and the high stakes attached, was staggering, especially given the often prohibitive cost of the procedure. Why are women expected to know so much with so little support?

Part of it is social conditioning. Women are so often seen as caretakers, not the ones who need to be cared for. The data reflects this patriarchal misconception. Women are more likely to be misdiagnosed than men, and their ailments receive less research funding. Endometriosis, the condition affecting Pugh and an estimated 1 in 10 women globally, is a stark example of gender disparities in medical research. A McKinsey report found that erectile dysfunction, despite being far less common, receives six times more research funding than endometriosis. From 2019 to 2023, erectile dysfunction was allocated $1.24 billion, while endometriosis received $44 million. It’s infuriating given that endometriosis has far more life-threatening impacts (it can cause ectopic pregnancies, bowel obstruction and even cancer) and that it impacts a larger portion of the population. Simply put, our priorities don’t reflect our needs.

And let’s be clear — the issue isn’t men; it’s the patriarchy. Women’s symptoms are disproportionately dismissed as psychosomatic, leading to a systemic lack of belief and trust in their own accounts of their health. This bias isn’t confined to male doctors; female doctors can also perpetuate it. Pugh, for instance, said she faced dismissal from a female doctor in the U.K. when she brought up her diagnosis. While studies show women are less likely to die under the care of female doctors, the reality is that even women in medicine can underestimate or overlook female pain, reflecting the broader cultural tendency to belittle it. And this is far worse for women of color, whose pain is ignored at even greater rates and can lead to far graver consequences for them.

So how do we solve this? 

According to Dr. Elizabeth Comen, an Associate Professor of Medicine at NYU Langone and author of the book “All in Her Head: The Truth and Lies Early Medicine Taught Us About Women’s Bodies and Why It Matters Today,” the most important step women can take is to find a buddy. “I don’t care if you’re Einstein; you need to have somebody with you to advocate for you,” she told me over the phone. “When you’re worried and anxious, you need that support to help filter the information in context.”

Dr. Comen also emphasized the need to shed the specific, yet universal, shame women often feel about not knowing how to advocate for themselves, despite often being so skilled at advocating for others. “Whether it’s homeless women, royalty, or the heads of hedge funds, every woman has that story. Women can find sisterhood in that shared experience,” she said. “This work cannot happen alone.”

If it happened to Florence Pugh, it can happen to anyone. As we wait for our culture and medical establishment to catch up, women leaning on each other isn’t just support; it’s a quiet revolution.