Anarcha Westcott

In the dusty medical archives of the 19th century, the name Anarcha Westcott appears quietly, not in headlines, but buried in surgical reports and footnotes. She was not a doctor. She was not a nurse. She was a young enslaved Black woman on a plantation in Montgomery, Alabama. Her body became the unwilling stage for a series of surgical experiments that would transform the field of medicine, at a devastating human cost.

Anarcha suffered from a condition called vesicovaginal fistula, a severe childbirth injury that caused uncontrollable leakage of urine, chronic infections, and deep social stigma. In the 1840s, there was no known cure in America. Enter Dr. James Marion Sims, a physician who would later be celebrated as “the father of modern gynecology.” But before the accolades and fame, there was Anarcha.

Sims saw in Anarcha and other enslaved women a chance to experiment and develop new surgical methods. These women had no choice; their bodies were controlled by their owners and by Sims himself. Between 1845 and 1849, Sims performed around 30 experimental surgeries on Anarcha in an effort to treat her fistula. He did this without anesthesia. Although ether anesthesia was already available during that period, Sims chose not to use it, driven by the racist belief that Black women did not feel pain in the same way white women did.

The surgeries were brutal. Anarcha was fully conscious as Sims operated on her repeatedly. She screamed in pain while other enslaved women held her down. Surgery after surgery failed, leaving her in agony, but Sims persisted, not for her comfort, but for medical discovery. She wasn’t alone. Sims also experimented on at least ten other enslaved women, including Lucy and Betsy, whose names survive through fragments of historical records. But Anarcha became his most frequent subject, enduring four long years of procedures.

Eventually, Sims developed a successful surgical technique to repair the fistula, a technique that would go on to revolutionize women’s healthcare. He published his methods, built a hospital for women, and was honored by the medical community. Statues were raised in his name. But Anarcha’s name was almost erased. Her suffering was the foundation on which Sims built his legacy, yet she received no recognition, no honor, and no freedom for her ordeal. Her body carried the weight of history, and her pain paved the way for modern gynecology.

For decades, the world celebrated Sims while forgetting the women whose bodies he used. But history began to reckon with the truth. Activists, historians, and communities brought Anarcha’s story back into the light. In 2018, after public outcry, the statue of Sims in New York’s Central Park was removed. In its place, new voices began to speak the names of Anarcha, Lucy, Betsy, and the other women, acknowledging their pain and their forced contribution to medical history.

Anarcha Westcott’s story is not one of medical glory. It is a story of injustice, survival, and truth. She endured unimaginable pain, not by choice but by force. Her body carried the weight of experiments that would go on to save countless lives, yet she remained voiceless for more than a century. Today, the world is beginning to remember her, not as a footnote, but as a central figure in the painful birth of modern gynecology.

History remembered the doctor. But the world is finally beginning to remember the woman.

Her story forces us to confront uncomfortable truths: that even the greatest medical advancements can be built on the suffering of the powerless. It challenges us to remember the names behind the progress, to honor their humanity, and to make sure their sacrifices are never erased again