It was the summer of 2015. I was living in New York City, working in climate policy at the United Nations. I woke up on the floor of my local bodega, drenched in sweat, being dragged into an ambulance. Two male paramedics hovered over me. “Are you pregnant?” Are you sure you’re not pregnant?” They kept asking, as though pregnancy is the only form of horrific pain a woman could endure. I had passed out because of period pain. Even now, every month, I have days where it feels like barbed wire is