I remember waking up one morning at 16 with a severe case of acne. It felt as though my hormones had suddenly turned against me, leaving me to negotiate a body that no longer felt familiar or predictable. I was later diagnosed with Polycystic Ovarian Syndrome (PCOS) at 19, and it has taken several years – a journey I am still on – to understand what it means to be a Black woman and to feel embodied, to feel comfortable and present in one’s body, while living with a condition that repeatedly calls that embodiment into question.

Hirsutism (excessive hair growth) became one of my most distressing symptoms. No matter how much I shaved, plucked, or waxed my face, I was still left with what felt like the unwanted gift of a beard. Hyperpigmentation soon followed, intensifying my sense of shame as I became increasingly aware of what I perceived as my bodily shortcomings. Searching for ways to stop it often ended in tears, as each solution led me back to the same place: feeling hopeless and helpless.