The Dispensaire Français and Me: Why I Volunteer My Time for Women’s Health in London

There is a particular quality to the silence that follows when a woman finishes telling me something she has been carrying alone for a long time. It is not the silence of the consulting room in Kensington or Harley Street, where the setting is familiar and the appointment expected. It is the silence of a woman sitting in a charity clinic in Hammersmith, sometimes with a child on her lap, who has just told a doctor — for the first time in years — that something is wrong.

I volunteer at the Dispensaire Français in London, and I serve as one of its trustees. I have written before about the Dispensaire — what it is, who it serves, how it works. This article is different. This is about what I have learned there, and why the work matters to me in a way that goes beyond clinical duty.

The women between two systems

The women I see at the Dispensaire are not a homogeneous group. They are French-speaking, but they come from many countries — some from France, many from French-speaking Africa, others from elsewhere in the francophone world. Some are young, recently arrived in London, working in hospitality or childcare, without settled immigration status and uncertain of their rights. Others have been here for years, are technically eligible for NHS care, but have never managed to register with a GP — or have registered but found the system so different from anything they knew that they stopped engaging with it. Some are students. Some are mothers. Some have not seen a gynaecologist in a decade or more.

What they share is a gap. Wherever they started — in France, where women grow up with a gynaecologist from adolescence, or in a French-speaking country where care was organised very differently — they have arrived in a British system that offers neither that relationship nor an obvious way in. And because gynaecological health is intimate, because it requires trust and linguistic nuance, because so many of these concerns feel private and even shameful, the gap has a way of widening until the silence becomes normalised.

What I see in a single session

My sessions at the Dispensaire usually run for a couple of hours during the day. The range of what walks through the door in that time is wide, and each appointment carries its own weight.

One woman may come because she has been bleeding irregularly for months and has not known who to tell. Another because she stopped her contraceptive pill when she moved to London — she did not know how to get a new prescription — and is now dealing with the consequences of unprotected sex she had not planned. A third because she is forty-eight, her periods have become erratic and her sleep has collapsed, and nobody has mentioned the word périménopause to her because she has not seen a doctor in three years.

The weight of language

I have learned, over my years at the Dispensaire, that language is not simply a medium of communication in gynaecology. It is a gateway to honesty.

A woman describing vaginal discharge in her second language will often use fewer words, less precise words, and disclose less than she would in French. She will not tell you that the discharge has a particular odour because she does not have the English vocabulary for it, or because she feels the word is indelicate, or because the emotional register of describing intimate symptoms in a foreign language feels exposing in a way that her mother tongue does not. She will say it is fine, or she will not mention it at all, and the diagnosis will be missed.

When I speak to these women in French, the consultation opens like a door. The specificity returns. The embarrassment recedes — not entirely, because gynaecological concerns carry their own vulnerability regardless of language, but enough to allow the clinical conversation to do its work. Research consistently shows that language-concordant care leads to better disclosure, better adherence to treatment, and better clinical outcomes. In gynaecology, where the consultation depends on a woman feeling safe enough to talk about her body, this effect is amplified.

When the problem is bigger than medicine: the Parcours Soutien Femmes

Some of what women carry into the consulting room is not, at its root, a medical problem. Violence — physical, sexual, psychological, financial, or neglect — surfaces in gynaecological consultations more often than most people imagine, precisely because this is a setting where a woman may finally feel safe enough to speak.

For these situations the Dispensaire has created the Parcours Soutien Femmes, a multidisciplinary structure that takes care of women who are victims of violence. Rather than leaving a woman to find her way between separate services alone, the Parcours brings medical care and social support together around her, in French, with people she has already learned to trust.

What volunteering teaches me about my private practice

I would be dishonest if I said my work at the Dispensaire does not influence how I practise at Kensington and Harley Street. It does, profoundly.

The women I see privately are, on the whole, different in circumstance. They have insurance, or the means to pay. They have chosen to be there. They have, in most cases, access to the NHS if they need it. But many of them share a version of the same frustration I see at the Dispensaire — they moved from France, they lost the medical gynaecology relationship they grew up with, and the gap in their care has consequences they did not anticipate.

My time at the Dispensaire keeps me grounded in this reality. It reminds me that the care I provide is not a luxury. It is a response to a genuine gap — one that affects women at every economic level, but that falls hardest on those with the fewest resources to bridge it themselves.

A charity that has endured for over 150 years

The Dispensaire Français is part of the Société Française de Bienfaisance, founded in 1842, with the Dispensaire itself established in 1867 — over 150 years ago. It is based at 184 Hammersmith Road, London W6 7DJ, and it provides free and low-cost medical consultations, social support, and welfare services to French-speaking people in the United Kingdom who are in financial difficulty.

The fact that this institution has served London for over 150 years tells you something about the enduring need it serves. French-speaking people in London have always needed a point of access to healthcare that understands their language, their expectations, and the particular vulnerabilities that come with living in a country that is not your own. The Dispensaire provides that. And as long as there are French-speaking women in London who are falling through the gaps of the British healthcare system, there will be a need for what it offers.

How you can access the Dispensaire — or support it

If you are a French-speaking woman in London and you need gynaecological care but cannot afford private consultation, the Dispensaire is here for you. Consultations are free, they are in French, and they are provided by specialists who understand your medical culture. The one exception is laboratory tests, which have to be paid for — a cost that many of the women we see cannot afford. You can contact the Dispensaire through their website at www.df-sfb.org.uk or by calling them directly.

If you are in a position to support the Dispensaire, there are several ways to contribute:

• Donate. The charity relies on the generosity of individuals and companies to continue its work. Financial contributions of any size are welcome.
• Spread the word. Many women who would benefit from the Dispensaire do not know it exists. If you know someone in the French-speaking community who might need these services, please tell them.
• Volunteer. Healthcare professionals and support staff are always needed. If you have skills to offer, the Dispensaire would be glad to hear from you.