The name J. Marion Sims holds a prominent place in the annals of medical history. Often revered as the “Father of Modern Gynecology,” Sims is credited with groundbreaking surgical innovations that laid the foundation for women’s reproductive healthcare. His work, especially in treating vesicovaginal fistulas, a devastating childbirth injury, has saved countless lives and changed the course of medicine. But beneath this celebrated legacy lies a haunting truth: many of Sims’ most important advancements were made through painful and unethical experiments conducted on enslaved Black women.
To understand the full picture, we must look not only at the achievements but also at the methods, the silenced voices, and the historical context that made such atrocities possible.
The Man Behind the Myth
J. Marion Sims was born in 1813 in South Carolina. After receiving his medical degree, he began practicing general medicine but soon turned his attention to women’s health, a field that was, at the time, riddled with stigma, limited knowledge, and very little professional attention. Gynecology was barely recognized as a formal specialty, and many doctors avoided it due to its association with sexuality and the perceived “delicacy” of women.
Sims, however, saw an opportunity. In Montgomery, Alabama, during the 1840s, he began treating enslaved women who had suffered traumatic childbirth injuries, particularly vesicovaginal fistulas. This condition, caused by prolonged labor, leaves a hole between the bladder and the vaginal wall, resulting in chronic incontinence and severe social isolation for the affected women.
It was here, amid the plantations and slave quarters of the American South, that Sims developed the procedures and tools that would later elevate him to medical fame. But these advancements came at an unimaginable cost.
The Experiments: Innovation Through Suffering
Between 1845 and 1849, Sims performed dozens of experimental surgeries on at least ten enslaved women. Among them were three women whose names have survived history: Anarcha, Lucy, and Betsey. These women were subjected to multiple operations. Anarcha alone is believed to have undergone at least 30 procedures.
The pain they endured was unimaginable. Sims performed these surgeries without anesthesia. At the time, ether and chloroform were becoming more widely used in surgical settings, but Sims did not believe that Black women experienced pain the same way white women did, a belief rooted in racist pseudoscience and widely accepted among white physicians of the era.
Sims justified this choice by claiming that anesthesia was too risky or unreliable. But modern analysis reveals a far more troubling truth: his disregard for the pain and consent of his subjects stemmed from deep-seated racism and a view of enslaved individuals as property rather than people.
The women could not say no. As enslaved people, they had no legal autonomy. Sims was allowed to “borrow” them from slave owners who had a vested interest in seeing their female slaves “repaired” so they could return to labor or childbirth.
These were not acts of healing done with compassion. These were calculated experiments, done over and over until Sims perfected his techniques.
Silenced Voices: Anarcha, Lucy, and Betsey
In recent years, historians and activists have worked to restore the identities and dignity of the women Sims experimented on. Anarcha, Lucy, and Betsey were not just faceless subjects. They were young women, likely in their late teens, who suffered intense physical and emotional trauma.
Accounts from the time describe Lucy’s agonizing screams during surgery. She developed a severe infection after one procedure and nearly died. Sims noted her suffering in his records, but he continued. Betsey, too, was subjected to repeated procedures, always without pain relief. Anarcha, the most frequently operated on, had her body cut open again and again until Sims deemed his technique successful.
These women were not thanked. They were not offered freedom. They were not seen as pioneers in medical history. Their contributions were neither voluntary nor recognized. Their stories were nearly erased, hidden behind the whitewashed celebration of Sims’ “genius.”
The Tools of Oppression
Among Sims’ inventions were the speculum, a tool still used today, and surgical techniques that remain a part of gynecological practice. But the instruments he designed were tested on bodies that had no choice.
He used a bent spoon, for instance, as an early speculum to peer inside the vaginal canal. He experimented with sutures made from silver wire. Each tool, each method, was refined through trial and error, errors paid for with the pain, infection, and suffering of enslaved women.
Legacy and Controversy: The Statue That Fell
For over a century, Sims was celebrated uncritically. Monuments were erected in his honor, and hospitals bore his name. A statue of Sims once stood proudly in Central Park, just steps away from the New York Academy of Medicine.
But as the full truth of his experiments became more widely known, the calls for justice grew louder. Activists and scholars pushed for the removal of the statue, arguing that it glorified a man who committed acts of medical violence against enslaved Black women.
In April 2018, that statue was finally taken down. It marked a turning point in how the medical community and the public at large began to reckon with Sims’ legacy. But removing a statue is just the beginning. True justice means confronting the uncomfortable history behind our institutions and honoring those who were wronged.
The Broader Context: Medicine and Racism
Sims was not alone in exploiting enslaved people for medical advancement. Throughout the 19th century, Black bodies were routinely used for dissection, experimentation, and surgical training. The belief that Black people were biologically different and inferior was used to justify everything from forced sterilizations to unethical studies like the Tuskegee Syphilis Experiment.
The roots of modern medicine are entangled with systemic racism. Understanding this history is essential not to erase the advancements made, but to ensure that we never again allow scientific progress to come at the cost of human dignity.
Conclusion: Honoring the True Pioneers
Today, Anarcha, Lucy, and Betsey are being reclaimed as the real pioneers of modern gynecology. Their names are spoken in ceremonies, inscribed on memorials, and remembered in art and literature. They are no longer invisible. J. Marion Sims’ story is a reminder that progress built on pain is not true progress. The tools of medicine must be guided by ethics, empathy, and equity. As we move forward in healthcare and science, we must do so with full awareness of the past—especially the parts we wish we could forget.
Let us honor the women who suffered not by erasing history, but by telling it honestly and using it to build a future that is just, humane, and worthy of their sacrifice.
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