THE GLOBAL PANDEMIC OF PERIOD STIGMA
Menstruation was never something that was spoken about openly growing up. It was a hushed whisper to an elder sister, mother, or female teacher but was rarely something we spoke about with peers. Like many young women in Zimbabwe, I grew up believing that my period was some shameful secret.
I was fourteen years old and in my first year of secondary school when I had my first period. It was a typical February morning, the first rays of sunlight flickering with the promise of blistering heat later in the day. After my sister and I had finished getting ready for school, we began preparing for our walk, which was a little over one and a half kilometers there and back. I stalled for a bit because I could tell something wasn’t right with my body. At first, I had thought it was just a stomach ache, but that did not explain the strange heat and heaviness I felt in my underwear. I quickly ran to the toilet outside to look and was mortified when I realized I was bleeding!
I made what seemed to be the wisest decision at that moment. I put on an extra pair of underwear without saying a word to anyone. I was embarrassed, scared, and alone in my shame. I remember thinking that I would not wish this experience on anyone. Barely a meter out of the yard, I ran back inside and stuffed my underwear with tissue, and put another pair on. After I successfully put on three pairs of underwear, I ensured that my school skirt was still fully pleated. I thought I had it all figured out.
Once the storm in my pelvis subsided, I thought that maybe the worst was over. While I walked to school, I tried to recall what I had read in the Integrated Science textbook to understand what was happening to me and how I could stop it. I was filled with so much shame that I could barely sit down or look anyone in the eye. I feared that if I caught anyone’s eye, then they would know that I was bleeding. So when I spoiled myself and had to walk home with a jersey tied around my waist, I wished the earth would swallow me up.
That day was one of the most frightening and traumatizing days of my life. It took time and growth for me to start seeing my period differently. The change also came about through the introduction of spaces that discussed periods in detail. These spaces helped me identify my deep sense of shame and how it led me to be silent about my experiences and the stigma regarding periods. It also showed me how privileged I was. I had the underwear to spare, a textbook to refer to, and pads to use.
I have heard many more stories like mine in my home country of Zimbabwe. Despite some efforts to break the silence on menstruation at a national level, many menstruators continue to be sentenced to dungeons of victimhood, stigma, and shame by a conservative culture that leaves us behind. Period poverty is real and a human rights crisis for so many girls, especially in rural communities. Menstruators who find themselves without even the basic sanitary supplies can experience helplessness and desolation. Periods can become a monthly nightmare that is marked by powerlessness and despair.
Working with these communities has led me to understand how much I have taken for granted, from a bar of soap to a pair of underwear. Many girls have had to miss school due to lack of sanitary wear and unbearable period pain, further fueling menstrual shaming and period stigma. The advent of COVID-19 has further exacerbated this situation mostly through restricted movements and lack of privacy which have increased menstrual shaming and led to further improper sanitary supplies.
This year on Menstrual Hygiene Day, a day championing a global consensus on the need to act now and make the necessary investments to end menstrual period poverty and stigma, I have some advice. As the world tries to survive a global pandemic, sinking economies, and political turmoil, menstruators need our help more than ever.
Firstly, I believe that to ensure the dignity and health of every girl and woman we need to offer the full package. We can no longer exclusively provide sanitary ware; it must also be accompanied by restored dignity packs (including underwear, towels, soap, Vaseline, and pads). I have been approached at pad donation drives several times where menstruators have returned the pads we gave them because they did not have the underwear to use them on. Everyone’s reality is different, and we need to do our best to accommodate specific needs, especially when dealing with vulnerable populations.
Secondly, we must make efforts to engage men and boys. Zimbabwean culture is predominantly patriarchal, and the effects of this cannot be understated. This status quo affects how women and girls access critical sanitary supplies. For example, the positioning of males as household heads who control the budget can make it difficult for women and girls to have their menstrual needs accommodated in this budget, especially in a culture that deems menstruation as a female affair void of men. By adopting supportive attitudes towards menstruation, boys and men can help menstruators access menstrual supplies and help reduce the social and cultural stigma around periods. This way, whether at school, church, on a bus, or another social space, menstruators can feel less anxious about potential teasing and shaming about their period.
Over the years, I have volunteered and worked with collectives and local organizations to help fight period poverty. Together with a few colleagues, we are designing local interventions that are more responsive, inclusive, and sustainable to contribute to the movement. I am also designing a research study to understand adolescent girls and young women’s menstrual needs in Zimbabwe. For me, the struggle begins at the individual level, then the household, and then beyond. Comfortability with talking about periods is the first real step to executing effective advocacy efforts in the menstrual movement.
On this Menstrual Hygiene Day, I challenge us to be more responsive in our menstrual hygiene interventions. As we stand in global solidarity to end period poverty, let us reflect on the most vulnerable populations and their needs when managing their periods. I also choose to challenge myself and my complicity in menstrual shaming and stigma. I, too, have compounded the deafening silence around periods and taken for granted my access to menstrual products. With this being said, it is time for action! We cannot continue to be silent about an issue affecting nearly half of the global population.
