Porsha Williams’ Fibroid Emergency Points to a Bigger Economic Cost for Black Women

Porsha Williams’ revelation that doctors found 21 fibroids before she underwent an emergency hysterectomy is a deeply personal health story.

It is also an economic one.

The reality television personality has opened up about a years-long struggle with uterine fibroids that included previous treatment, fertility concerns and, eventually, surgery.

Williams told Glamour that doctors found 21 fibroids, including extremely large growths, before the hysterectomy that removed her uterus while preserving her ovaries.

For many women, that kind of diagnosis can change far more than a medical chart.

It can change how much they work. How much they earn. How much they spend on care. Whether they can take time away from a job. Which doctors they can reach. Which treatments their insurance will cover. And, in some cases, what reproductive choices remain available to them.

For Black women in particular, Williams’ story sits inside a much larger economic reality.

Fibroids Are Common. The Burden Is Not Equal.

Uterine fibroids are noncancerous growths that develop in the muscle of the uterus.

Some cause no symptoms. Others can produce heavy bleeding, pelvic pain or pressure, frequent urination and fertility or pregnancy complications.

But the burden is not evenly distributed.

The federal Office on Women’s Health says African American women are more likely to develop fibroids than white women.

The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists says fibroids also tend to occur at younger ages and grow more quickly in Black women.

That disparity matters economically because an illness does not stop costing money when a patient leaves the doctor’s office.

A 2024 analysis estimated that the overall U.S. economic burden associated with uterine fibroids had climbed to roughly $42.2 billion in 2022 when medical treatment, lost work, infertility and other related costs were considered.

Researchers estimated lost-work costs alone at between $6.4 billion and $17.9 billion annually.

That is the part of the fibroid story that celebrity headlines can easily miss.

When a Health Problem Becomes a Work Problem

Heavy bleeding, pain and fatigue do not neatly fit around a work schedule.

For someone paid by the hour, missed shifts can mean lost income immediately.

For salaried workers, repeated appointments, reduced productivity or extended recovery can still affect advancement, performance and job stability.

Entrepreneurs and caregivers may have even less room to step away.

A 2025 study of women working in health care who reported fibroid diagnoses or symptoms found substantial work impairment among respondents.

The researchers estimated an average 33% loss of work productivity among the group who completed the work-impact assessment, largely because symptoms affected them while they were working rather than simply keeping them home.

The study was small and focused specifically on health-care workers, so it should not be treated as a measure of every woman with fibroids. But it illustrates an important point: the cost of illness can show up inside the workday long before it appears as a hospital bill.

For Black women already carrying a disproportionate burden of fibroids, that connection between health and earning power deserves more attention.

Access Determines How Much Choice Is Really Available

There is no single treatment for every fibroid patient.

Depending on symptoms, the size and location of the fibroids, reproductive goals and other clinical factors, options can include medication, myomectomy, uterine artery embolization, radiofrequency ablation or hysterectomy.

A myomectomy removes fibroids while preserving the uterus. Uterine artery embolization blocks blood flow to fibroids so they shrink. A hysterectomy removes the uterus and permanently ends the ability to carry a pregnancy.

On paper, that looks like a menu of choices.

In practice, access determines how much of that menu a patient can actually use.

• Does her health plan include the right specialist?
• Is a minimally invasive procedure available in her area?
• Can she take enough time off to recover?
• Can she afford the deductible?
• Does she have transportation or child care for repeated appointments?
• Was the condition identified early enough for multiple treatment options to remain practical?

Those are medical questions and economic questions at the same time.

Recent research suggests that treatment pathways differ across race and socioeconomic status.

A 2026 study of more than 133,000 patients found that race, household income, education and rural residence were each associated with how invasive fibroid treatment was, even after researchers accounted for several other factors.

Black patients in the study had a higher predicted probability of receiving the most invasive treatment than white patients.

Another 2026 study following more than 84,000 patients in Northern California found racial and ethnic differences in the long-term use of fibroid treatments, including uterus-preserving options. The researchers called for more work to understand the causes and ensure equitable access to fibroid care.

Those studies do not explain why Williams personally required a hysterectomy. Individual treatment decisions depend on individual medical circumstances.

They do show why the larger question cannot end with whether a treatment technically exists.

The economic question is who can reach the right treatment, at the right time, with enough information and financial flexibility to have meaningful choices.

The Price of Preserving Choice

Williams’ experience also brings another form of economic value into view: reproductive choice.

Some fibroid treatments preserve the uterus. Others do not. ACOG notes that patients may seek alternatives to hysterectomy because they want future children or simply want to retain their uterus.

That makes early diagnosis, specialist access and treatment navigation consequential beyond the immediate medical bill.

When patients have time and access to evaluate different approaches, they may have more ability to weigh recovery time, future fertility, recurrence risk and other priorities with their doctors.

When disease becomes severe, that range of practical choices can narrow.

And for households, every stage can carry a price: consultations, imaging, medications, procedures, infertility care, time away from work, transportation and recovery.

Health access, in other words, can become a form of economic access.

Why This Matters Beyond Porsha Williams

Celebrity stories have reach because a recognizable person can make an overlooked issue impossible to ignore.

But celebrity resources are not typical household resources.

That distinction is exactly why Williams’ disclosure matters economically.

If managing fibroids can require multiple specialists, procedures, time away from work and complicated reproductive decisions, the central question is not simply whether medicine has developed treatment options.

It is whether ordinary women can actually access them.

For Black women, who face a higher fibroid burden, the stakes extend from the examination room to household income, workplace stability and long-term reproductive autonomy.

Williams’ story may bring the attention.

The economics behind it are about time, money, access and choice — and who has enough of each before a manageable condition becomes a life-altering one.

BEDC Reader Resources

Uterine fibroid symptoms and treatment decisions should be discussed with a qualified health professional. The American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists provides patient information covering fibroid symptoms and treatment options, including myomectomy, hysterectomy, uterine artery embolization and radiofrequency ablation.

The federal Office on Women’s Health also provides information on fibroid symptoms, risk factors and diagnosis.

Read the resources:
ACOG: Uterine Fibroids
Office on Women’s Health: Uterine Fibroids