I’ve been a sex educator for six years. Why did I start doubting my contraception choices?

I’ve been a sex educator for six years. Why did I start doubting my contraception choices?

Milly Evans, a seasoned sex educator, has spent years mastering the intricacies of birth control methods. Yet, as she prepared to undergo a hormonal coil (IUS) procedure, a wave of uncertainty washed over her. The online world, especially social media, had become a battleground for contraception debates, and Evans found herself torn between her professional knowledge and the new doubts creeping in.

Over the past few years, the US has seen a surge in social media posts criticizing hormonal contraceptives. From the pill to implants, these discussions often fall into two camps: personal anecdotes about side effects and deliberate misinformation, frequently tying hormonal use to ideological stances. Evans, who has been accredited for six years, highlights the latter as a growing concern, noting the prevalence of right-wing, religious narratives in the content she encounters.

“Some of the claims I saw were so compelling that they made me question what I already know to be true,” Evans admits.

Lauren Haslam, a 25-year-old from Manchester, echoes this sentiment. She follows fitness and wellness influencers who occasionally frame hormonal contraception as “unnatural” or “harmful.” Despite her four years on the combined pill, which has eased symptoms of premenstrual dysphoric disorder, she feels the online discourse challenges her positive experience.

Haslam describes the pill as “honestly changed my life,” yet the constant flow of negative posts has left her questioning her decision. These narratives, often amplified by users citing personal struggles, have created a ripple effect, influencing even those with medical expertise. Psychosexual therapist Evie Plumb notes that misinformation spreads beyond social media, appearing in podcasts and online forums.

Dr. Fran Yarlett, a medical director at women’s health platform the Lowdown, acknowledges that while some claims about hormonal contraception are exaggerated, others stem from small studies with questionable methods. For instance, the idea that the pill can “shrink your clitoris” is frequently cited, though its validity remains debated.

Similar trends are emerging in the UK, where clinics report a rise in patient hesitation. Jenny Dhingra, a London GP, observes increased “aversion” to hormonal methods, with some women citing fears of side effects after exposure to online content. The NHS lists common side effects like headaches, nausea, and acne, but emphasizes these often improve over time. It also notes that hormonal contraception slightly elevates risks for blood clots and breast cancer, though the likelihood is “very low.”

Jenny Hall, a professor of reproductive health at UCL, points out that NHS data may not fully capture contraceptive trends. Pharmacies and devices that can remain in place for extended periods aren’t always accounted for, making it difficult to measure the exact impact of online discourse on usage. A recent study suggests a decline in hormonal contraception adoption in England and Wales between 2018 and 2023, based on data from tens of thousands of women seeking abortions. Meanwhile, a review of studies found that negative effects are more frequently highlighted on social media than the benefits of these methods.

Despite the wealth of information available, the emotional weight of scary stories often overshadows facts. As Evans reflects, the tension between professional knowledge and online influence underscores a broader shift in how women view their contraceptive choices.