Womxn without a womb
- info819852
- Mar 6
- 5 min read
Updated: Mar 8
Written by Natalie Fox, Founder of “ECO YOGA SURF” and lead author of the paper “Ocean Literacy and Surfing (2021)
I hadn’t thought much about what the X in womxn might mean until I joined eXXpedition. For in eXXpedition, the double X refers to the chromosomes that all female-born women possess, the ones that shape the female body and the feminine life trajectory. And whilst I hadn’t thought much about it, I certainly had lived experience of what it did not mean for me - having been born without a womb (a fundamental anatomical characteristic the XX chromosome tends to produce).
I was 17 when I was diagnosed with MRKH, a rare congenital reproductive disorder where the uterus or womb is absent. It is usually discovered when a teenage girl does not begin menstruation, and it was the same for me. Not much else is known about this condition, but they say it affects 1 in 5000 women. For the eXXpedition application I was 1 of 300 women selected out of 10,000 applicants, what are the odds?
During my GCSEs (back in 1997) I was undergoing my own medical examinations and surgery, so it’s safe to say I had other things on my mind than studying for my exams. I had always been bright and eager to learn, yet during this time all I wanted was to be normal, to fit in. It was impossible though, because I was clearly different. There was no internet yet, limited emotional or psychological support from the NHS and I did not or could not talk to my friends or family about my diagnosis. I felt completely alone and started to harbour a deep shame about my body. I learnt how to disassociate from what I was feeling, because it was the only way I could cope with the intensity.
I was about 15, in between appointments and still awaiting an official diagnosis, when I remember reading an article about an intersex woman in a magazine. It was my first and only reference point that there might be a spectrum when it comes to gender and that it wasn’t as binary as I’d always been taught. However, this concept was still taboo in our culture at the time, and unfortunately still created a barrier to finding acceptance and understanding of myself and my body.
The years when the diagnosis came are a bit of a blur, but at least I finally had answers - anatomically speaking, the Doctors told me I had only one functioning ovary, a very small cervix and no womb. I would never have a period or be able to carry a child. There would also be complications to having a normal sex life, so this needed to be a conversation I learnt to have with potential partners.
A few years on, in my final weeks of University, I was still struggling. I hadn’t learnt how to have that conversation yet. And I did not have the capacity to deal with what MRKH meant for my present, or my future - let alone decide what I wanted to “do” as an adult.
I’d been on a seaside holiday with friends and tried bodyboarding a few years prior, and it marked a moment when all my fears, anxieties and shame disappeared.
I was just playing and having so much fun - I had never experienced that kind of freedom as a teen before, it felt like all my worries got washed away. So I had the idea of going to Cornwall to try surfing, and once I graduated, that’s exactly what I did.
As cliche as it sounds, the Ocean changed everything. It's no exaggeration to say that it brought me back to myself. It helped me start to unpack my teenage years, the trauma of the diagnosis and to process some of the overwhelming sensations of anxiety that I’d come to think of as normal.
However, I found surfing immensely difficult. The ocean was a new and unknown place for me and the Cornish coast was wild and cold - especially in the winter. Despite often feeling petrified in the powerful waves, I dedicated myself to reading the swells and paddling out as much as possible. I was improving and found friends and mentors who could see I really needed help, and they were kind enough to offer me tips and advice. I soon realised I wanted to spend as much time as possible in the sea, so I took the lifeguarding qualification and started surf coaching full time.
My life became filled with waves, and the regular immersion in the Ocean did something magical to my nervous system and my emotional state. I started to heal.
Along my surfing journey, I came face to face with marine plastic pollution, and so surfing led me to conservation, volunteering and activism. Eventually I returned to university to study sustainability in 2018, which is when the opportunity to join eXXpedition arose. Even whilst onboard, I didn’t share that I had MRKH. I was still figuring out how to articulate it, and it’s taken a few years of therapy find the courage to openly discuss it. These days I genuinely feel a sense of gratitude for everything I’ve learnt and experienced through my MRKH diagnosis. I enjoy sharing openly about my experience, as I hope it helps to end the stigma and lack of awareness that surrounds MRKH. Despite it being one of my life's biggest challenges, I showed me what it’s like to be in the minority, and because of this, social equity, and in particular Ocean equity, is a theme close to my heart.
I recently discovered that the single gene mutation responsible for MRKH (which develops in the fetal stage of an embryo) is likely linked to exposure to “endocrine-disrupting chemicals” during pregnancy. I can’t help but think of the PBDEs, BPA, phthalates and more that are in plastics, leaching into our bodies and the environment; connecting these two entities through rivers of harm. These toxins continue to cause damage on an invisible scale, adding to the devastation and destruction that the plastic (and fossil fuel) industry perpetuates.
It has made me more committed to see my body as part of the greater water body of this Blue Planet, and to work towards our interconnected well-being. It has driven me to start a community science project with surfers, and to train in surf therapy, making surfing and its healing powers become more accessible to all folks (especially minority groups). And whilst I might not be designed to produce children, I know that my body is strong and resilient and has found its purpose - to foster my love for the Ocean through action and contribute to the shift in how we treat the Ocean (and each other).
As a woman without a womb, the X in womxn represents the nuance associated with our gender and identity.
It calls attention to the fact that we should have the freedom to define who we are on our own terms, and to celebrate our differences (and that there should be more awareness and support for those struggling from the impact of those differences). My journey towards embracing my true identity has been intertwined with my relationship to the Ocean, and I’m incredibly thankful that surfing has given me the space and time to unravel what it means for me to be a womxn today.
You can read more about Natalie's current work and upcoming surf retreat in Portugal here.
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