When I was in Grade 10, I got my first stain. I never panicked, never alarmed, never worried. Instead, I looked out for my sister at home and smiled, while informing her. She shook my hand and said “Wow, congrats!” and then made a call to my mom, with all smiles as if she celebrated my girlhood. My mother came home rushing. Once she came in, she lifted my hand and said: “Well, you must give much care for your health, hereafter”. She made me bathe, instructed me on how to use a napkin, and shared her thoughts on personal hygiene and good health. I was made to rest and eat as I wished for the next couple of days. When it was over, I went to school, as always. That is all!
How do I wish this to happen to every other girl out there?
It just didn’t happen, not only because of my easy-going mindset, but also because of my parents’ and siblings’ attitude towards menstruation. Just like how you sneeze, how you doze, how you eat, this too happens. Our family had a bunch of women: cousins, sisters, aunties, grandmothers, and so on. Since childhood, I had been listening to various other perspectives of girlhood, menstruation, motherhood, Sexual intercourse, and every other thing. I never had a stigma of any of those, as we consider them as essential requirements for any human. Whenever I run out of napkins, my brother would never hesitate to buy me a pack, remembering the exact brand I want. My father would sometimes feel how tired I am, and would never hesitate to dispose of my napkins stored in the dustbins. My boyfriend would make me coffee, and give me a foot massage to relieve my cramps. Those men in my family were concerned and empathetic as they must be.
When I get my period every month, my mom makes sure that I follow a healthy diet and personal hygiene. I was allowed to consume whatever I wished, go wherever I wished, and do whatever I wanted. Even on the second day, I represented my school basketball team at a district match, when my father stood there waving his hands and cheering for me. My Sister and I, during our periods, were never instructed not to touch anything, not to move around the house, or anything. We were given much rest and care as always.
This simpler understanding brought us a sense of freedom and happiness, not just for those five days, but also for our entire lives. I was left free; I was left to be as I wish and as I am. My mother could be the first person with whom I would discuss even my crush, my periods, sexual abuse news I came across, condoms, sexual harassment, women’s safety, and much more. She gave us a comfort zone where we could feel as we are. Those special bonds made us what we are today.
But aren’t there houses where girls are never allowed in during their periods? Never allowed to sit anywhere they want, never allowed to touch anyone, never allowed to play with their brothers, never allowed to hold hands with their husbands, never, never, and never.
Don’t these religious places increase a social taboo during this period? Aren’t they creating a myth factory for girls on their menstrual cycle? Aren’t these social steroids injecting their harmful essence of hatred into our flesh? Why is it still a taboo? Why can’t these girls just be like how they are, even on their periods? Men also do menstruate. They do pass through their menopause phase. They’re just not given much attention, as always. But aren’t they left out free? Why do we girls have to be restricted? Questions, yet unanswered.
There are many companies, nowadays, offering “first day period leave” to their female employees, along with salary. They do understand the trauma we undergo, but don’t these men give back-talk soon after we get back to work, the second day? Their wives didn’t take a day off, they think?
It’s just not a few men who would handle this inappropriately. Even many women in our houses would do the same. Making the girls sit alone, making them sleep alone, and to add a hike on it, they would be made to wash their dresses and bedspreads by themselves, even on those days. They are never allowed to enter the kitchen or pooja rooms. Every girl who goes through this phase would definitely want to scream her out and get toughened, obviously. Not every woman is empathetic, I must say.
We would be walking miles away to our workplace, having plastic paper napkins between our legs, giving rash thighs. After travelling for a day, we would plead with the weird-looking bus drivers to stop the bus at any toilet, to dispose of our napkins. We would never be offered a seat on the metro, only to stand with trembling legs. We would breastfeed our children with painful breasts. We would undergo marital-rape even on our first day, when we shed blood both from our vagina and heart. Think of those police women who would stand all day long at their duty; the nurses who change the patients’ napkins, but don’t find time to change hers; the lady at the bill counter who would never get a minute off to have a cup of coffee; Your mother who would never stop a moment to take a rest. They are all on their periods.
Like how you eat, like how you sleep, like how you urinate, like how you make love, like how you masturbate, we women menstruate. It’s highly imperative to be healthy and hygienic, but not isolated or restricted from anything or anyone. Periods are definitely not holy. It’s biological.
Do you have any problems with our uterus and ovaries? You stay back, we can’t. Period.
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