Noor Taan is an artist known for her incredible concept “Life of Loofah”, where she creates everything — installations, clothes, lamps — from a single material: loofah. Noor has always spoken about sustainability, about caring for nature and for yourself, about being conscious of what you create and how you live.

But this awareness didn’t come only from her artistic practice — it deepened through her own journey with a condition many women face: endometriosis. Fortunately, in recent years, more and more women have begun to talk about it openly. For too long, menstrual pain has been normalised — but it is time to admit: pain is not okay.

To shed more light on women’s health and wellbeing, Noor is now launching a new concept called “Noorish” — a space for open, honest conversations about womanhood, wellness, and the body.

And now, she shares her personal experience with endometriosis.

I have suffered from endometriosis since I was a child. I got my first period when I was ten. I remember that moment so vividly: I was in the mountains, I went to my room and hid my panties in the closet because I didn’t know what was happening to me. My mom found them, made me tea, sat me down, and explained what a period was. I had no idea what it meant to “become a woman.”

That is when everything started. Since then, my periods have been painful. I grew up pushing through pain. I normalised it. Every doctor I saw told me it was “normal.” And because I didn’t know better, I believed them. At some point, I started refusing to see male doctors — I felt like they couldn’t possibly understand what I was going through. But even women doctors gave me conflicting answers: “You have to go through it. That’s it.”

When I was twenty, I had my first and only surgery — a laparoscopy. They inserted cameras and burned away the endometriosis tissue. I remember the experience vividly — being under anaesthesia but half-awake, feeling like strangers were touching my body while I couldn’t move or talk. Since then, hospitals have been directly linked to horrible memories and death. I still experience PTSD whenever I enter a hospital or clinic.

After the surgery, the doctor said, “Now you have to stay on the pill until you get pregnant. If you stop, the endo will come back.” I was twenty, not planning to get pregnant, so I stayed on the pill. I stayed on it for three years, without a single period. Everyone told me it was normal, but at some point, I realised it is not fine. I am not okay.

My body was changing — my face was swollen, my feet were swollen, and I was bloated all the time. My whole body felt different. I had mood swings, interior battle… My body was giving me signs, and I was ignoring them.

So I decided to ask someone else. I went to a holistic nutritionist who told me to stop the pill completely, to take supplements instead, and to trust that my body would heal. I did — and after a year off the pill, I went for a checkup. The gynaecologist looked at me and said, “Are you crazy? You can’t do that. You’ll never have children.” I got scared. I went home and bought the pill again. One appointment, and I was back to square one.

It became a yo-yo — on the pill, off the pill, on again, off again. After about seven years of that back-and-forth, I finally stopped the pill for good — that was two years ago.

I began exploring natural healing methods: Chinese medicine, parasite cleanses, and mindful eating. I tried to be conscious. I wanted to nourish my body, slow my brain, and be in sync with my nervous system.

Finally, the period came back. The first one was light, but it was there. The second one was stronger — and I remember actually feeling pain again. Pain and bleeding, both of which I had been taught to see as problems, but in that moment, I felt relief. It meant my body was working again. My body had been trying to talk to me all along. Now, I finally listen.

Today, my MRI shows no trace of endometriosis. I healed it naturally. Maybe it will come back someday — but even if it does, I am at peace. I have learned to thank my body for what it does every month. Blood isn’t dirty; it is sacred.

I have learned to track my cycle and honour its phases. When I am menstruating and low on energy, I let myself rest. I read, I sit in the sun. When I am ovulating, I create, I feel inspired. I no longer force myself — I work with my body, not against it.

For years, endometriosis felt like a block in my womb. I wasn’t kind to myself; I was always pushing, always demanding more. Now I understand that sometimes you don’t need to push — you need to listen.

Through this journey, I am healing not just my body but also my relationship with it. I used to hate my period — now I call it my cycle. I don’t associate it with pain or shame anymore. I talk about it openly with my partner.

All of this led me to something new — a concept I call Noorish. It is born of women, art, and earth — a collective space rooted in ancestral knowledge and ways of healing that exist beyond consumer culture. Part archive, part awakening — a place for ancestral wisdom, rituals, and realness; not wellness that is sold, but wisdom that endures.

I want Noorish to be a safe space for women to share, learn, and reconnect with themselves.

Because everything is connected — art, womanhood, healing. I believe that by listening to our bodies and telling our stories, we can reclaim our power. And that is the journey I am on now — nourishing myself, and hopefully, others too.