Sunday, June 11, 2023

Alexandra Feodorovna: Misogyny, Medicine, and Won't Somebody Think of the Children?

Hysterical, self-absorbed, and hypochondriacal—this is how many have come to regard Alexandra Feodorovna, the last empress of Russia. You will probably have heard about how she spent her days needlessly lounging in bed or on her famous mauve room sofa, downing medicines and complaining to her long-suffering physicians. 

'It was all in her head' say an alarming number of historians. She was so desperate to be an invalid that she willed herself into being one. Sciatica, heart trouble, insomnia. It all points to a classic case of hysterical woman syndrome; when will they learn to calm down? 

A statement often thrown around is that she neglected her children—forcing them to sit at her bedside all hours of the day, or else forbidding them completely from visiting her. She was so desperate for their attention (something else caused by that pesky hysterical woman syndrome) that she isolated them from the outside world and hindered any attempts of theirs to make friends. 

Most of you will know that all of this is utter rubbish. It takes little research to prove that her children had numerous friends. What troubles me, though, and what is slightly more subjective is the degree to which Alexandra and her children suffered as a result of her alleged illnesses.

I believe that Alexandra suffered a great deal. Yes, psychologically, but also physically. I believe that her illnesses and pains were likely caused (and/or exacerbated) by her mental state—but that they were undeniably real. I also believe that her children were perfectly fine. 

Dearest Mama

Sometime over the next few months, my mother will (hopefully) undergo her fifty-somethingth operation. I say 'fifty-somethingth' because we stopped keeping count a good long time ago, and this is our collective best estimate.

My mother suffers from numerous health issues, the most prominent being...well, nobody really knows. It's so rare that it doesn't have a name. As such, I'm sure you'll understand my reluctance to share potentially identifying details and will suffice to say that it's not very pleasant. 

My family has been lucky enough over the past twenty-odd years to afford the best consultants, specialists, and hospitals. If we couldn't then she would be dead. Absolutely and unequivocally. What horrifies me most is that there are doubtless dozens of women who suffer from the same set of symptoms and have died, or will die, due to luck of birth. If my mother—wealthy white woman that she is—had such difficulty being diagnosed in the first place, never mind having money to throw at treatment after the fact, then God knows what others have had to endure. 

As if that's not enough, she has also suffered countless complications from the operations themselves. My father often recalls taking her to A&E in excruciating pain, and having to personally call her city-based consultant at two in the morning because the local NHS doctors very obviously had no clue what to do or who to contact. On a separate occasion, I remember sitting in an English lesson and trying to surreptitiously google sepsis survival rates because that's what I'd heard the paramedics discussing when they'd carried her out of the house the previous night. 

I'm used to sitting at someone's bedside, or being unable to see them at all. I watched most of my favourite TV shows for the first time on my mother's bed, on my ancient laptop propped up on a stack of cushions between us. I learnt how to occupy myself from a very young age because, often, my mother would be too ill to play with me and my father too tired. 

I know what it's like to be the daughter of an unwell mother.

Have You Tried Not Being Fat?

I suffer from PCOS. It's not at all rare or dangerous, but all the same it's something I'd rather not have. I also suffer from ill-defined and as yet undiagnosed pain in my arms and hands. This, as well as the fact that I am a woman (as implied by the whole PCOS deal), is a winning combination to ensure that I am brushed off by any and all health professionals.  

PCOS is something that exclusively affects those assigned female at birth, and as such it's not something that a lot of research has gone into understanding. This, despite the fact that it's estimated to affect 1 in 10 women. I take Norethisterone to treat irregular periods, and that's great, but this was only prescribed because my mother made one of her doctors see me after I hadn't had a period in nearly a year. My regular GPs (all men, believe it or not) told me repeatedly that the only way to manage it was to lose weight and take painkillers. 

Losing weight and taking painkillers is also what will apparently cure my arm and hand pain. They've done all the tests, they don't know what's causing it, and at this point it's clear they have no interest in finding out. 

In talking to some of my female relatives and friends, as well as reading various pieces of online testimony by strangers, I discovered that this is not uncommon. If you are at all overweight, then losing weight is the cure for all your ills. If doctors do not know what's causing your symptoms, they are likely to conclude that the symptoms are psychological. Women have to repeatedly complain of something in order to be taken seriously. This often leads to being labelled a time-waster or chronic complainer, which only exacerbates the problem. 

Sexism and misogyny are pervasive in Western society, but especially in health and medicine. When compared to men with the same symptoms, women are:
- less likely to be given pain medication.
- more likely to have a delay in diagnosis.
- more likely to be prescribed mood-altering drugs.
Just to name a few.

I'm Sure This Was Supposed to Be About Alexandra Feodorovna 

As you've probably guessed (or so I would hope), I'm deeply interested in how history has painted Alexandra Feodorovna, and how she continues to be viewed today. 

I do not claim that she was without fault, but I'm convinced that the hatred and dismissal she receives are amplified greatly by the fact that she was a woman. Often, I find that she's judged more harshly than her husband—the man at the helm while the ship went down, driving it directly into several icebergs with little need for his wife's input to do so. 

Why historians are still judging women as mothers like it's any reflection of their personal qualities is beyond me, but here we are. I can tell these people firsthand that being a so-called bad mother does not make someone a bad person and vice versa. Why do they expect that Alexandra should have borne her suffering in silence? For the sake of her husband? Her children? If her health issues were solely psychological, as so many seem to think, then why does that make her any less entitled to complain or receive treatment? Unless they think that poor mental health is something that ought to be belittled. 

The reason for all this is, of course, obvious. Good women are quiet and obedient. They don't let their families see their suffering, much less let it impact them in any meaningful way. Good women are cheery and optimistic. They always have a smile on their face and are never anything but friendly to all they meet. 

I am not a good woman. My mother is not a good woman. Alexandra Feodorovna was not a good woman. 

We shouldn't have to be.

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Alexandra Feodorovna: Misogyny, Medicine, and Won't Somebody Think of the Children?

Hysterical, self-absorbed, and hypochondriacal—this is how many have come to regard Alexandra Feodorovna, the last empress of Russia. You wi...