Misinformation and suspicion surrounding sexually transmitted HPV – along with the social implications of administering shots to young girls – significantly hinder worldwide uptake of the vaccine. The 2006 U.S. rollout hit a quagmire of public ignorance, suspicion and paranoia, and by 2020, just 61 percent of eligible U.S. girls had been vaccinated. In Japan, anti-vax sentiment led to an HPV vaccine ban, and in Denmark, the vaccine met similar resistance. Nearly twenty years after its introduction in higher-income countries, the vaccine is vastly behind its prevention potential; in lower-income countries, its trajectory has been abysmal. Hang-ups about sexually transmitted infections and baseless fears about the vaccine have made advocating its use a cause laden with stigma. In male-dominated cultures – and in the absence of an existing delivery system – a girls-only vaccine is often stopped before it can start. And yet, without a worldwide commitment to countering misunderstanding through trust-building, hundreds of thousands of women will miss their critical opportunity to beat this disease.

No parent, partner, or child could quantify the worth of a beloved female family member lost to cervical cancer. And yet, with today’s economic realities – and most particularly in countries that struggle to meet citizens’ basic health needs – quantifying a woman’s financial benefit to her family and community becomes necessary to justify the cost of eradicating this disease. A senior health economist with the World Health Organization estimates that for every dollar spent on cervical cancer prevention, women’s paid and unpaid contributions return $26 USD to an economy: a return rate of twenty-six to one – impressive for any health intervention. Yet for varying political, social, and cultural reasons, most countries are reluctant to spend sufficient funds on female reproductive health care. These financial obstacles to eliminating cervical cancer won’t change until each unique society is willing to question how it values its women. Eliminating death by a preventable cancer makes intuitive sense. But until those sentiments translate into public policy and equitable, affordable health care for all women, lofty ideas are not enough to save lives.

Australia is set to become the world’s first country to eliminate cervical cancer by 2035, shining a light for all to follow. Its government provides nationwide screening, school-wide HPV vaccination, and an equitability program for underresourced communities. Australia’s successes remind us that disease elimination means addressing the needs of all citizens, including those hampered by cultural, geographic, or economic differences. In regions without the capacity or political will to target cervical cancer, grassroots movements and organizations can intervene. Cervical cancer survivors form the backbone of community-based initiatives: holding governments accountable to offer health care access and education. The Zambian-based Teal Sisters is just one of many such organizations offering collective empowerment for its members and advocating for greater support for women’s health. With so much global inequity, so much resistance, and so many women to serve, the hurdles to ending cervical cancer can seem insurmountable. And yet, individuals with passion and commitment – even entire countries – are proving these barriers can be overcome.

Men born male may be immune to cervical cancer, but they play a pivotal role in helping to do away with the disease – with good reason to do so. Men benefit greatly from keeping women alive. But in order to spare persons with cervixes this potent killer, they must put women’s rights at the forefront. The following are among the ways men can demonstrate this alliance: they can lower HPV transmission through condom use and male circumcision, support and advocate for family members and friends fighting cervical cancer, back women in key leadership positions, and empower them to make their own health care decisions. Men can also work to transform patriarchal norms and laws – belief systems often at the root of ignorance, misunderstanding, and stigma about the disease. All of these efforts are instrumental toward the larger goal of reducing cervical cancer rates. As men get involved with cervical cancer elimination in higher- or lower-income countries, their activism alongside or on behalf of women can make an immediate difference. The quest to eliminate this disease simply cannot succeed without the unwavering support, understanding, and commitment of the world’s other half.

Cervical cancer is one of the world’s most preventable cancers. And yet, every year, it continues to kill more than 340,000 women around the globe. Its rampage shows no sign of abating. Recent developments in medical science have given us the means of eliminating this cancer, including an HPV vaccine with a record for preventing up to 90 percent of cervical cancer, increasingly effective screening tests for detecting it as pre-cancer, and – should cervical pre-cancer progress to cancer – sophisticated treatment methods for extending and even sparing lives. But the vast majority of lower-income countries and regions within higher-income countries either know little about this cancer or lack the resources or infrastructure to stop it. Without greater awareness and a global willingness to intervene, hundreds of thousands more persons with cervixes will die. It will require a passionate, sustained, collective effort to save them.

One of the great myths of cervical cancer is that it only strikes women in impoverished countries like Somalia or Sierra Leone – countries that struggle to feed their people, let alone inoculate them against cancer. And to some degree, it’s true: cervical cancer kills more poor women than wealthy ones. Yet, even amid affluence, cervical cancer assails women no matter where they live. Persons with cervixes in the United States and other higher-income countries are routinely denied the means or knowledge for protecting themselves against this disease – even while sharing space with some of the world’s wealthiest inhabitants. In fact, those with female reproductive systems are marginalized everywhere, and thereby receive unequal access to the interventions for preventing this deadly cancer. The sound science for ridding the world of cervical cancer requires universal intolerance of the inequities that flourish in every corner of the globe. The political, social, cultural, and financial obstacles for eliminating this cancer must be addressed and removed, one by one, in order to give all persons with cervixes a fighting chance.

Eliminating cervical cancer is about more than just spending money. It requires reckoning with the many intangibles that get in the way of this cause. Widespread adherence to patriarchal value systems, for instance, not only threatens women’s health and well-being, but discourages them from freely pursuing the means to a cure. Persons with cervixes must confrontnot only archaic notions about their worth, but also many other hidden barriers to prevention. These include the fear and superstition that arise from lack of knowledge and medical misinformation, a lack of appreciation for self-care, the burden of unpaid work, and the vulnerability resulting from racial and gender inequality. Challenging these societal factors will increase the volume of women’s voices and ultimately save thousands of lives. But until society is ready to acknowledge and address these barriers – the patriarchal structures thwarting women’s autonomy and decision-making power, the stigma associated with this disease, the religious intolerances and traditional values contrary to its prevention – a cancer that strikes only those with a cervix will continue to kill.

If cervical cancer ravages a woman’s body like fire, then screening acts like a smoke alarm – detecting and even stopping that fire before it starts. Cervical screening tests also save hundreds of thousands of lives every year, are generally more affordable, and target a much greater age range than HPV vaccination. Still, limited access to comprehensive screening and follow-up leaves women across the world vulnerable to being burned by cervical cancer. In Africa, India, and parts of Asia and South America, less than 10 percent of women receive any screening at all. Higher-income countries, where cervical screening is widely available, face innumerable obstacles to increased participation. Screening is available in name only in many U.S. states, which limit eligibility for public health insurance or withdraw funding for low-cost clinics. In higher-income countries, non-White, immigrant, or low-income women typically receive less screening. Researchers attribute low uptake to racial biases, geographic challenges, medical illiteracy, and cultural irrelevancy. But as long as citizens tolerate inequity, thousands of persons with cervixes will forgo lifesaving screening measures.

The potency of a vaccine against cancer-causing HPV – and the body’s ability to clear it – offers many women a fighting chance. But extinguishing this source of cervical cancer overlooks another sexually transmitted virus that’s been raging around the globe for decades: the human immunodeficiency virus (HIV). The lethal effects of HPV mixed with HIV can be like setting gasoline on fire. HPV infections in HIV-positive women last longer, progress more quickly, recur more frequently, and are harder to eradicate. Cervical cancer in HIV-positive women – many of them in lower-income countries – strikes younger, is more aggressive, and harder to cure. Women with HIV are six times more likely to die of cervical cancer. They face a particular threat in Africa, home to two-thirds of the world’s 40 million HIV cases. Without a concerted effort to overcome the dual stigma of HIV and HPV through education, appropriate medical care to all persons with cervixes, and a means to address the vulnerability of the continent’s child brides, Africa will remain at the core of the HIV-HPV inferno – undermining the quest for global cervical cancer elimination.

While countries with soaring cervical cancer rates would dearly love to offer citizens the HPV vaccine, their governments struggle most to afford it. In the poorest parts of the world, shortages, dosage costs, and barriers to distribution and delivery have made HPV vaccine access like winning a “life lottery” – garnering them no more than 13 percent of the global share. Despite the efforts of nonprofit agencies like Gavi – a vaccine-funding provider for the world’s poorest countries – this potent source of prevention remains elusive for “caught-in-the-middle” nations deemed above the funding cut-off. No such shortage exists in the United States, which pays $160 USD a dose and recently expanded vaccine eligibility in females up to forty-five, despite peak efficacy in teen girls. Market forces perpetuate the battle for this precious resource, even though widespread screening and pre-cancer treatment won’t be enough to stop the disease. In the absence of widespread HPV vaccination, global cervical cancer elimination remains a distant hope.

Doing away with cervical cancer worldwide turns out to be far more nuanced and difficult than it first appears. Despite the body’s ability to shed itself relatively easily of HPV and cervical pre-cancer, hundreds of thousands of persons with cervixes are dying and will continue to die. Too many have suffered already. The losses of these individuals strike a devasting blow, reverberating beyond families and through the heart of communities, tearing gashes in our social fabric – we are not built to lose so many women in the prime of their lives. Thankfully, we have what it takes: enough insight and tolerance to shift priorities and beliefs about preventing and treating a “woman’s cancer.” We have enough skills, resources, and determination to educate the world about the importance of cervical cancer prevention. We have enough disease-fighting resources to share with the people and places that need them most. We have enough to stop wasting women’s lives and begin treasuring them instead. We can take the exasperated cry of “enough” and use it to fuel our collective capacity to free the world of a disease that need no longer exist. We have enough to stop cervical cancer.