When I started having periods, my mom would hand me a large pack of pads that she kept on a high shelf above the laundry basket with our growing collection of free toothbrushes and toothpaste samples.
I was conflicted about the expendable nature of the pads. My parents emphasized the importance of minimizing waste whenever possible, and when it was unavoidable, they thought of creative solutions. They avoided plastic utensils and aggressively hoarded single-use packaging. The corner of our kitchen would burst with plastic bags to reuse. A stack of tofu containers and yogurt cups slowly grew on our windowsill until spring, when they were repurposed as pots for plant seedlings. I recall throwing out “perfectly reusable containers,” only to find them in the sink later, waiting to be rinsed. The excessive waste created from my pads and tampons juxtaposed with these habits.
Years later, I moved out of my parent’s home for college, and I felt myself shift towards a more disposable culture. I would get food in take-out containers, throw out nonessentials whenever I moved dorms, and I wasn’t half as thrifty as my parents when it came to upcycling. I became more aware of recurring waste. I watched with concern as my small bathroom trash can became dominated by period products each month.
After some research, I learned that approximately 12 billion pads and 7 billion tampons are discarded each year in the U.S alone. If the problem was keeping pads out of the trash, it occurred to me that there might be a reusable version. I hopped onto my laptop and searched, “reusable pads.”
I found plenty of options and gave them a trial run. After one period cycle, the reduction of waste was evident, but I had some concerns. Hand-rinsing chafed my hands, and period stains formed on the cloth. At the end of the period cycle, I also had to accumulate the used pads and run them separately in the washing machine. It occurred to me that these pads required additional time, water, energy, and detergent.
One day, my roommate casually mentioned that some of her frisbee teammates used the menstrual cup. I looked it up, and it puzzled me. It was roughly the shape of a cone, with thicker material around the opening to support a seal and an extra bit of material on the cone’s tip to form a nub. I decided to give it a shot. Although the cup was easier to clean and didn’t require much time or resources, the learning curve was steeper. I consistently struggled with the removal process and eventually switched back to the reusable pads.
After multiple online searches for sustainable products, I started to get relevant ads through all-knowing social media algorithms. These ads gave me an uncomfortable feeling that Big Brother was watching. Still, I enjoyed learning about up-and-coming sustainable products. I saw an ad on YouTube for menstrual discs, which are rubbery rings that seal the menstrual flow at a point further than the menstrual cup. They were much smaller and neater than pads and tampons. I reasoned that they would have taken less space in a landfill, but they were still single-use, not biodegradable, and cost more than $1 each. I was extremely amused by their ad, though, which advertised “period-free sex!”
Via other social media ads, I discovered another type of menstrual cup with an easier removal method. It looked like the first menstrual cup I had gotten, but it had a pull tab this time. While it was the priciest menstrual product I had purchased thus far, I hoped to resolve my issues with the cup’s removal process.
The new cup was worth it, and it was both easy to remove and easy to clean. As a mechanical engineer, I was especially pleased with the design of the cup. The pull tab simultaneously served as an extrusion to get a good grip on and broke the seal.
I excitedly told my roommate about this “upgraded” cup, and she was amused. I kept her up to date in my search, and she understood my struggle with my first cup. She didn’t think there would be a solution! This menstrual cup with a pull tab was my crowned winner.
By trying these different solutions, I learned about some of the variables that affect sustainability. I had started with the question, how do disposable pads and tampons affect the environment? After I discovered reusable pads, I asked, what resources are needed for maintenance? And in the end, I wondered, are sustainable period products more cost-effective?
I believe I made progress with my switch to the menstrual cup. Still, these questions are just the beginning when it comes to sustainability. My next steps are to research the life cycle sustainability assessment of the product, which would require a more comprehensive breakdown. This would track the product’s creation in the manufacturing plant to its transportation, then to its use and maintenance, and end with its decomposition in the landfill. With regards to sustainability, I was just getting started, and there was so much to learn.
I have certainly come a long way since my days of disposable pads. Not only am I going green, but I am also saving money with my transition to reusable period products. For a one-time investment of $27, I have up to 3 years’ worth of period care. I will continue to keep an eye out for innovative, sustainable menstrual products and explore the intersecting worlds of menstrual care and sustainability.
