Kenyan women have been screaming about endometriosis for years.

The pain. The delayed diagnoses. The expensive treatment. The fertility struggles. The endless trips to hospitals where “take a painkiller” sometimes feels like the entire treatment plan.

Then Natalie Githinji went public with her Stage 4 endometriosis battle, and suddenly the conversation got very loud again.

Nyamu has submitted a draft motion to the Senate pushing for better endometriosis
diagnosis, treatment and long-term care in Kenya. Her proposals include better specialist training, improved access to treatment, reliable national data and a review of how endometriosis care is covered under the Social Health Authority.

On paper, this sounds like exactly the kind of intervention women have been asking for.

But because this is Kenya — and because politics is politics — one uncomfortable question is already sitting at the table:

Is this about women’s health, political visibility, or a little bit of both?

The Timing Is… Interesting 

Nyamu insists the issue isn’t something she discovered yesterday.

She has pointed to her previous advocacy on endometriosis, including discussions following the Senate’s 2024 recognition of the late Jahmby Koikai, who spent years publicly advocating around the condition.

So technically, there is a history here.

But her latest push comes at a moment when endometriosis is receiving enormous public attention because of Natalie Githinji’s very public health battle.

And that timing is hard to ignore.

Because nothing makes a politician suddenly look more interested in an issue than an issue becoming extremely popular with the public.

Does that mean the advocacy is fake?

Not necessarily.

Politicians can genuinely care about an issue and understand that championing it improves their public image.

Those two things can coexist.

Let’s be honest.

In today’s political environment, visibility is currency.

A politician who champions a cause that thousands — or potentially millions — of women relate to gets attention. They get media coverage. They get social-media conversations. They get praised for “speaking for the people.”

Endometriosis is also an especially powerful political issue because it affects women across different ages and backgrounds.

So yes, there is political capital in being the politician who says:

“I hear you. I’m fighting for you.”

But that’s not necessarily a bad thing.

If politicians are going to compete for attention, perhaps competing over who can actually improve healthcare isn’t the worst competition to have.

This is where the conversation gets serious.

Nyamu has pointed to previous government commitments around specialised endometriosis centres, specialist training and equipment.

But women don’t live inside parliamentary motions.

They live outside hospitals.

They need a doctor who recognises the symptoms.

They need testing.

They need specialists.

They need medication.

They need surgery when necessary.

And, perhaps most importantly, they need to be able to afford all of it.

A beautifully worded motion doesn’t reduce someone’s hospital bill.

A viral parliamentary speech doesn’t make an appointment available next week.

And a hashtag certainly doesn’t perform surgery.

So… Is It Clout?

Maybe.

Is it votes?

Possibly.

Is it genuine advocacy?

Also possible.

The truth is, we don’t have enough evidence to know what’s happening inside Nyamu’s head.

And perhaps that’s not even the question we should be obsessing over.

The better question is:

What happens next?

If the motion progresses, funding follows, specialists are trained, facilities are equipped and women actually begin accessing better care, then whether Nyamu enjoyed the publicity along the way becomes almost irrelevant.

But if the cameras disappear, the headlines die down and women are left with the same old “take a painkiller and come back if it gets worse” experience?

Then Kenyans will have every right to ask whether this was advocacy or simply another political performance.

Endometriosis doesn’t care about political parties.

It doesn’t care about elections.

And it certainly doesn’t care which politician gets the credit.

The women dealing with it need results.

So perhaps Nyamu deserves credit for putting the issue back on the national agenda.

But she also deserves scrutiny — because that’s what public office comes with.

Don’t just tell women you’re fighting for them. Show them.

Give them the specialists.

Give them the equipment.

Give them affordable treatment.

Give them the healthcare system that should have existed long before a celebrity’s diagnosis made everyone pay attention.

Because if this really is about women, the proof won’t be in the speeches.

It will be in what changes after the cameras leave.