Today, Tomorrow, and the Day After That
By Bri Reddick
This is the first year of my life that I have not had health insurance. It also happens to be the year a global pandemic put the world on pause. To live on the brink of a health catastrophe in a healthcare system I cannot afford necessitates a familiarity and trust in my body that I have never had before, an assurance that my body has the ability to overcome and heal itself.
My monthly cycle became a crucial part in building this trust with my body. Every time my blood returned on the 15th of the month, I was relieved that I didn’t have to make an appointment with an OBGYN that I could not afford. The regularity of my period offered me a semblance of peace. I was reassured that my body could release what it no longer needed and replenish itself in only a months time.
As the world erupted around me, from pandemics to protests, from movements in Nigeria to the States, I learned to appreciate the pieces of my life that I could control — my period being one of them. While everything felt bigger than me, my body reminded me to trust the process, allowing me to make it through today, tomorrow, and the day after that.
This year I watched over 230,000 Americans die from the negligence of our government, I saw a Black woman become a hashtag for sleeping in her own bed, and I saw my reproductive rights juggled in the hands of people I do not know and never will. But I also saw youth advocates help distribute over 2 million menstrual products to menstruators in need, crowdfund money for the families of police violence, and volunteer their minds and bodies to demand justice. Together, we replenished ourselves; we became what we needed in order to make it through today, tomorrow, and the day after that.
While this year has brought pain, it also enforced a collective care that I have never seen. This pandemic has shown us how all of our livelihoods connect and how deeply we need one another. Today, the day after one of the most divisive elections to date, we are presented with an opportunity to move forward with this care. This is not an admission of defeat or passivity, but a radical act that positions people over profit, community over self-interest, and love over hate.
When PERIOD reached out to me about taking on The Rag, this collective care was at the forefront of my mind. Periods don’t stop when the rest of the world does, and therefore the menstrual movement offers a unique opportunity to contribute to all fights for justice and youth activism at large.
The Rag is envisioned to be a platform that centers the voices of young folks who are passionate and motivated to change the world around them. We want to hear the stories that have fallen on silent ears from mainstream media, the calls to action you want to scream from the rooftops, and the thoughts of the generation that fights back.
While The Rag is birthed from the menstrual movement, it is expansive and willing to transform with the young folks for whom it is made. I hope it is also a space where young people can lead by example and show what collective care looks like. So as we begin this new period where so much is unknown and there is so much anxiety, it is important that we release that tension- I hope The Rag offers a place for that release.
