My at-home pads are not revolutionary
A lookback at period products and how we got here.
The torn-up cotton shirt my mother so graciously volunteered began to take the shape of a standard period pad with wings that cost almost $15 at the store. Her face flashed in confusion, not fully understanding why I was so keen on tearing up and sewing old towels to make at-home pads; but there we both were.
Sure, the level of shock that there were toxic chemicals in the largest brands of tampons and pads (including the “organic” options) was underwhelming. Though some studies conclude the products are generally safe. The news, nonetheless, struck rage. The incident raised questions about how much the menstrual market values health or safety of its customers.
The commercialization of menstrual products paralleled the timeline of World War I when surgical dressings were rebranded and developed for periods. What was once the modest success of Tampax and Kotex in kick starting the period market has grown into a $43 billion money maker in the United States. On a similar timeline, Dr. Haas adopted what he saw a friend do — insert a sponge inside her vagina —which became the basis of tampons.
What followed were all time high cases of Toxic Shock Syndrome in the 80s, environmental harm from the disposable materials being mass produced and today, a gap in accessible and safe products for everyone.
The well off, white environmental activist would say in an almost judgemental tone, that I should invest in a cup instead of asking for a pad at a community table in Los Angeles. Thank you, I appreciate the recommendation, but not only is a good product out of my budget at 22 years old, but my personal health history has made that option null and void.
I am however glad menstrual products have left the confines of discreet whispers between stalls and slowly opening the wrapping while coughing. But, there is an unmatched silence in the conversation to reach solutions for product disparity. Sometimes, the $15 monthly budget of non-organic, mass produced and potentially toxic products are all most can afford, and for many, even that is a reach. Still, I was committed to using my non-existent sewing skills to make an alternative.
During her upbringing in the 70s, my mother would have a set few cut-up cotton towels she would use. Every month, she would hide them in her hand and wash out of the sight of her brothers. This had morphed into scowling each time I spoke about my period and cramping in front of my male family members.
Preceding the commercialized period product came a hush, hush practice of discretion and fear mongering. It was impolite to bleed. My bad.
The alleged health concerns specialists in the Victorian era had for free bleeding or wearing the same cloth more than once not only fueled disposable production, but created a taboo. People were afraid to talk about symptoms, bleeding and lacked interest in this shared experience for half of the population. The perpetual fear made it easy to sell scented products, sprays and towels.
And, since the vested interest to create safe products is outweighed by money and commercial gain, there are limited sanctions and research to fund and monitor the industry.
So, who is this “don’t talk about it” mentality truly benefiting?
The value of menstruation has been lost to the Westernization of something that was once sacred. In older communities, periods often aligned with the gravitational pull and lunar cycle. My mom would ask what phase the moon was in when I started my periods at age 11. There was an understanding that period impacted daily activity, mood and sleeping patterns.
What was once aligned with the environment around us became marketed as a hassle we often dread each month. With disposable tampons and pads made, not to work with periods, but are meant to enhance one’s ability to fulfill their duties as cogs of society. Not to rest, not to listen to one’s body, but to suck it up and pretend you aren’t experiencing an intense cycle.
It would be naive to say my one act of making at-home products will change the course of the menstrual product market. And the undoubtable privilege of washing my pads, working remotely and yes, buying the occasional tampon at the store is not a universal practice that everyone can adopt.
There is though, this sort of liberating return to my younger self that would shamelessly talk about clots at the dining table who I am doing justice by.
Myriam-Fernanda (they/them/elle) is a producer fellow at KCRW. They graduated from USC in the spring with degrees in Journalism and English-Creative Writing. They focus on …
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