“My attitude is bitchy ’cause my period is heavy!” I couldn’t believe my 10-year old ears. I looked at my mum straight away expecting some sort of disciplinary action at something that I hadn’t even said. But as Missy Elliott’s verse continued and my mum danced along in ignorant bliss, I felt a sense of relief and subsequent confusion. That was the first time I had ever heard a woman speak so brazenly about her menstrual cycle, something I’d been forewarned to never do, and there were no consequences.
I hadn’t even started my period yet, but my mother had begun preparing me for the inevitable. An opaque pouch stashed with pads and a spare pair of knickers was to be in my bag at all times, and must be carried with me all the way to the toilet, zipped shut until I’m in the safety of a locked cubicle. Humility regarding my period was instilled in me from the very beginning, and if anyone was to ever find out I was menstruating, teachers, classmates and male family included, eternal and maximal shame will swallow me whole.
Menstruation is the world’s worst kept secret. Everyone is either taught about it, exposed to it, or directly experiences it. Yet nobody must ever know. Women are conditioned to hide it, be ashamed of it, and never discuss it outside of educational contexts in public spaces — especially if said spaces include men.
“I used to be discreet about my periods when I was younger,” Sali admits, “growing up I was raised thinking it’s something to be embarrassed about.” For many of us, the ideology of menstrual mystery we were taught as young girls followed us into adulthood.“The discretion towards my period depends on who I’m around,” Akos contributes, “I feel naturally reluctant to even mention it if men are in the vicinity. I’ve found men to be extremely awkward about it, but I am freer around women because they can relate.”
I vividly remember sitting in the same sex education classes as my male classmates. And whilst a lot of these 10-years old boys reacted immaturely and made stupid comments, they were present and exposed to the same information the girls were. Still, we all reach adulthood and behave as if men’s ignorance on the subject must be preserved. The majority of the men in my life including family, friends, and love interests — whether through uncomfortable silences, swift subject changes, or verbal objections — have expressed their disgust and discomfort at a simple mention that I’m ‘on’.
I was always sloppy in concealing my 8th deadly sin in my first few years as a menstruating pre-teen. The noise of a pad change would echo through the hollow cave that was the girls’ toilet like a Pavarotti concerto. Unexpected guests greeted my pack of pads on the bathroom window sill instead of the privacy of the cabinet as my mother tirelessly instructed. Still, nobody died at the discovery that I was ever on my period. So I stopped caring.
At first I thought it’s ‘chicken or the egg’ paradox. How can women unlearn the secretive behaviour around their periods if we’re met with awkward discomfort from men? But how will men learn to become more comfortable with this very natural occurrence if women are too uncomfortable to even begin the conversation?
“As I got older, I stopped giving a fuck about who knows if i’m bleeding and in pain” Sali nonchalantly states. There are modern women who dare mention their menstrual cycle to just about anyone in befitting circumstances. The shift has been noticed and encouraged by sanitary product brands such as Always and Tampax who switched from doing absorption demonstrations in pool blue liquid to blood red in their TV adverts.
My period symptoms intensified with age. At its worst, it was excruciating lower back pain and migraines that almost brought me to blindness. But most of the time it was severe cramping for the first two days. How can anyone expect me to act like I’m completely fine in a work or educational environment when there’s what felt like 100 jagged knives slowly scraping at my womb? Which poses the more important question, for who’s sake?
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On the days where I had to soldier on with life at school or work, not being in bed was punishment enough. Finding comfortable positioning at my desk and soothing myself with hot water bottles started taking precedence over anyone clocking on to what was going on. My already subpar conservation act slowly disintegrated until there was nothing left.
“I’m open about it to everyone now. Even to my male friends. Some have offered to get me food or just help in any way.” Sali solidified the suspicions I had all those years ago; in the grand scheme of things, there are very few negatives to menstrual transparency. In fact, it seems more beneficial to be.
“I think it’s important to be open about it,” Liz agrees, “at the end of the day it’s something we go through that really affects us physically and emotionally. Hiding it or being coy about it has never done me any favours. Like Sali, I’ve had instances where I’ve been on my period, my dad has asked me what’s wrong and I’ve told him and he offers to get me medicine or other things to help.”
Of course, Rome wasn’t built in a day. “I still hold back a bit” admits Akos “I’m comfortable mentioning I’m on my period to one of my best male friends because he has sisters and understands. With partners it’s been hit and miss, some are happy for me to talk about it and others have expressed their discomfort with the topic.”
By the time I entered the working world, any apprehension I had about being open with my cycle disappeared. I became the girl who openly asked female colleagues for spare sanitary products and voiced the physical painI was enduring that month. All in the presence of men.
The results of my new approach were anticlimactic. It didn’t feel revolutionary or liberating, I wasn’t carrying modern feminism on my back. But it also didn’t feel shameful or humiliating either. I just simply continued to exist without the repercussions I grew up thinking were inevitable.
“It’s likely our mums got taught to be secretive about their periods by their own mums to be honest,” ponders Liz “I don’t even think they know why. The majority of their generation was probably taught the same way, hence why a lot of us initially had the same preconceived attitudes towards it.”
My feeling is, if women realised that the reason for the covert approach to their very natural occurrence was rooted in misogyny the cycle would have been broken generations ago. The enigmatic attitude I was taught to have for my menstrual cycle was to convenience men. I had to be ashamed of a regular bodily function which I cannot control, to make the men I come into contact with — who experience no such thing — feel at ease.
“I’d tell my daughters not to be shy.” Sali already has plans to ensure her offspring have a different approach. “I’d teach them to be comfortable and reassure them it’s a natural process and not ashamed of their body. I’m going to tell them to be open with anyone they choose to be open with about it.”
The overall notion is not to be confused with TMI. I don’t think there’s any need to go from one extreme of silence to the next of unprovoked proclamations and in-depth discussions. “When I’m not in my home, I am as discreet as I am with taking a shit,” Liz puts simply. “Yes it’s perfectly natural, but it’s not really socially acceptable to talk openly about your bowel movements.”
Although graphic, the analogy is perfect. In my opinion, there’s no need to discuss it in detail for the sake of normalising the concept to men. Educating men on every detail would be redundant, they don’t need to study what they don’t experience. It’s the concept of secrecy and shame women are made to associate with their periods that needs to become completely obsolete. Judging by this group discussion, alongside how society is slowly changing, we’re almost there.
