What happens when we make space for the female body?

Period of Change 2026

Wow. Spending an entire weekend surrounded by women who are deeply passionate about female health felt so good.

Doctors. Surgeons. Gynaecologists. Doulas. Researchers. Therapists. Coaches. Activists. Founders. And so many women working in completely different fields, but connected by the same question:

How can we understand, research, talk about and care for the female body better?

I travelled to Hamburg for the Period of Change, a two day conference organised by the Institut für Zyklusgesundheit e.V., a non profit association dedicated to bringing more evidence based knowledge about cycle health into society and connecting science, practice and social change. The conference has been running since 2020 and brings together people from medicine, research, politics, education and many other fields around menstrual and reproductive health.

And honestly, I felt the difference from the moment I walked in.

The conference opened with a welcome address from Maryam Blumenthal, Hamburg's Senator for Science, Research and Equality. One of the things she spoke about was how political cycle health and awareness actually are, and how important it is that we become vocal about these topics rather than keeping them behind closed doors.

She spoke about taking up space.

And I loved one particular idea: Including your uterus in that space.

She shared how, in meetings with older men, she would openly talk about menstruation. Not vaguely. Not euphemistically. She would talk about how intense her bleeding was that day, or how she was feeling on day two.

And I thought:

Yes.

Because why shouldn't we?

It immediately reminded me of my own experience working as the only woman in a startup. I remember bringing my hot water bottle into the office when I had my period. Eventually, I started making my period days work from home days. Because I had started to understand what my body needed, and I was lucky enough to have a job where I could accommodate that.

And then came one of my favourite details of the entire conference. Something I have genuinely never seen in a professional environment before.

A special room: Pillows. Hot water bottles. Magnesium. Essential oils. A QR code for a sound meditation. A room where you could simply disappear for a moment. No networking, no performing, no pretending you were endlessly social and productive. Just space to regulate.

It might sound like a small thing. It isn't.

At a conference about cycle health, the organisers didn't just talk about listening to the body. They built the event around the fact that bodies have different needs. There was childcare, so mothers could actually participate. The door stayed open for women to bring their children in. There was somewhere to retreat when socialising got to be too much. And there was a basic understanding that not everyone shows up to a conference in the same physical or emotional state.

Because at any given conference, someone is menstruating. Someone is in their follicular phase, someone in their luteal phase. Someone has PMS, or is going through perimenopause, or is pregnant, postpartum, trying to conceive, living with endometriosis, PCOS/PMOS or PMDD. Or is just having a difficult day.

What I loved most is that nobody had to explain any of that to take care of themselves. Well done.

And there was one more thing that made this particularly meaningful to me. I was actually in my luteal phase during the conference, and just knowing that the quiet room existed changed something for me.

I didn't necessarily need to use it. But knowing I could go there if I needed to took away some of the social pressure I'd unconsciously been putting on myself. Because a conference is, of course, a place to meet people, to connect, to exchange ideas, to network. And I wanted to do all of that. But I also realised I didn't have to be "on" the entire time. I didn't have to be the most social version of myself. I was allowed to step away, have a quieter moment, and simply be. And somehow, knowing I had that choice actually made it easier for me to be “on” when I did want to.

That, to me, is such an important part of creating spaces that genuinely feel inclusive. It's not about designing everything around the assumption that everyone has the same energy, the same needs, or the same capacity to socialise. It's about creating enough space that people can choose what they need.

I left Hamburg thinking I want more professional spaces to feel like this. Not necessarily with a quiet room stocked with hot water bottles and magnesium at every conference (although honestly, I wouldn't complain). But with a deeper understanding that people bring bodies into these spaces. Bodies that menstruate, that go through hormonal changes, that get tired or overwhelmed, that need to eat, rest, breastfeed or step outside.

Maybe inclusion can sometimes be as simple as making it possible for people to honour those needs without feeling like they're doing something wrong. That was one of my biggest takeaways from Period of Change. Not just talking about women's health, but actually creating spaces where women's health is allowed to exist.

And sometimes, that's as simple as a hot water bottle in a quiet room, and being allowed to say, "I'm on my period today, and I need a minute," without anyone thinking that's strange.

Have you ever had to explain your body's needs in a professional space, or wished you didn't have to? I would love to hear your experience in the comments.