By Claire
Our local paper has a regular feature called the “Venting”
column. It is compiled of comments that readers submit that range in subject to
construction in our city, to weather, to the occasional uplifting story about a
random act of kindness. Most of the time, I enjoy reading this column because
the “vents” selected for the published issue are generally funny,
thought-provoking or sarcastically witty. A couple weeks ago, however, mixed in
with a comments about how the twist tie on a bag of bread always goes missing,
to one begging that feminism not be used as a dirty word (such is the case with
the term “femininazi”) there was this;
“Could we please be spared of the pleasure of tampon
commercials during the evening news?”
At first, I was annoyed. Then, I was a little pissed. And so
it progressed; the more I thought about it, the angrier I became.
Why shouldn’t they play tampon commercials during the
evening news? I can think of no clear answer. Maybe that’s because I am a woman,
one who bleeds every month as a painful (literally) reminder of the fact that I
can bear children, that I have this view. Vents are posted anonymously, but if
I’m being honest, I assumed that this venter was a middle aged man, though in
all fairness, it could have been a woman.
But really, why are we so afraid of tampons?
Yes, tampons can be bad for the environment. I would imagine
that even in a society such as ours that creates an insurmountable amount of
trash, disposable feminine hygiene products make up a notable portion of our
landfill waste. I mean sure, there are alternatives to disposable products,
such as washable, reusable cloth pads, and products like the “Diva Cup,” which
is a silicone or rubber cup that is inserted into the vagina during menstruation,
and collects the menstrual flow, rather than absorbing it. Also, tampons have
been known to cause T.S.S. (Toxic Shock Syndrome) when they are used
improperly. And yes, there are the concerned parents of teenage daughters that
believe wearing tampons will “devirginize” their daughters, thus making them
impure and dirty. That’s a whole other argument.
But besides that, what is really wrong with tampons? And why
was this person so opposed to seeing a commercial for them during the evening
news?
I am morally opposed to bottled water. I think that it is a
corrupt industry that sees an opportunity to exploit something necessary for
survival, that should be available to everyone equally, I think that the idea
of using a plastic bottle once and then throwing it away (recycling doesn’t
change the fact that in buying that bottle of water, that piece of plastic will
stay on this earth forever, not decomposing and going back to a natural state)
is incredibly wasteful, and they, Nestle in particular recently began showing a
commercial which is distinctly misogynistic. I could go on, but this is not a
post about how I hate bottled water. The point is, that I don’t complain when
they show bottled water commercials (ones that aren’t sexist, anyways) during
the evening news. I respect that other consumers do not have the same moral
opposition I do to bottled water, I understand the advertiser’s aim of
appealing to those consumers, and persuade those consumers to buy their
product. I’m sorry, but how are tampons any different? Oh right, only women
need them.
Maybe I would be a little bit more understanding if feminine
hygiene product commercials were different. But right now, they’re women
sauntering around wearing white clothing or bathing suits, telling us how much
fun they’re having on their periods. I applaud Kotex for coming out with
commercials that highlight how ridiculous these advertisements are, because
they are completely and truly absurd. Only the bravest and most courageous (and
most confident in the performance of her tampon, pad, or menstrual cup) of
women would wear white pants while she was on her period, particularly if it
was a heavy flow day. Hello, haven’t these ad execs ever heard of period pants?
When I’m on my period, I get the cramps, and I have a heavy flow. Do I really
want to be wearing tight white pants on a day like that? Fuck no. On days like
that, I’m wearing my darkest, comfiest and oldest sweatpants, usually with my
black spandex shorts underneath for an added layer of protection. If I’m going
to work, where the dress code of my office says “no sweats,” I’m wearing my
comfiest pair of jeans. With my spandex shorts of course.
Not only do the ads show women looking unrealistically happy
and beautiful (not to say that there are women who can’t look lovely and happy
and pretty when they’re on their periods, but I can safely say that none of my
friends walk around like that when they’re on their periods,) but we are
subjected to demonstrations of their product with dyed blue liquids. As the
girl in the U by Kotex commercial says “the ads on TV are really helpful,
‘cause they use that blue liquid and I’m like ‘oh! That’s what’s supposed to
happen!’”
I’m sorry, what? Are we so afraid of mentioning what
actually happens during a woman’s period that we have to use different coloured
liquids?
So I really don’t see why this person is objecting to tampon
commercials. Maybe, if they showed fake blood being squirted violently at a
tampon or a pad, then maybe I would understand. But with how ridiculous the
advertisements are, I am left with the questions, what the fucking fuck is wrong?
And would this commenter be so concerned if they showed the
Victoria’s Secret commercials, which show women parading around in their
underwear, were shown instead? I am inclined to believe not.
We live in a culture that is so completely ok with the
objectification of women’s bodies (whether natural or surgically enhanced) but
is so completely uncomfortable with talking about a natural bodily function.
One that allows us all to exist, I might add.
So the larger question here, is why are we so afraid of
discussing what happens “down there” once a month? I read a fabulous article on
the Huffington Post just this week, while I was pretending to work. Basically, it talks about a new ad campaign that pictures women going about
their everyday business with blood running down their legs. Which, if you think
about it, is completely natural. No, I don’t want to walk around with menstrual
flow staining my shorts and dripping down my legs (I mean, if you get a
nosebleed you try and stop it from going everywhere, right?) but it provokes an
interesting thought; why are we not ok with this? Because we aren’t. If you
want to view the images, you first have to confirm that you are above 18 years
of age. So you have to be older than 18 to view women getting their period, but
typically girls get their period between the ages of 11 and 14. How does that
make sense? Yes, asking you to say that you’re over 18 on the internet means almost
nothing in an age where five year olds are computer savvy, but the notion that
we have to ask is puzzling to me.
When I was in junior high, and had just started getting my
period I came upon a terrifying conundrum; it was early June, and we were
required, for gym class, to go swimming. If you didn’t participate and didn’t
have a note exempting you signed by either your parent or a doctor, you were
docked marks. Trying desperately to be the best student I could (which isn’t to
do in gym class when you’re growing into your body and have the coordination
and athletic skills of Bambi when he first learned to walk) I was terrified by
the prospect of having to talk to my teacher and to explain to her that I
couldn’t go swimming because I (who had not yet discovered tampons, which allow
you much more freedom than a conventional pad, might I add,) gulp, was… on my period. So, I asked my mom to
write me a note. My mother is not one to allow her children to take the easy
way out, and would of course never allow me an out simply because I didn’t want
to go swimming, so she asked for a reason. I uncomfortably told her I was on my
period. She wrote me the note, and then came home with some tampons.
So I can’t pretend like I never hid my period, that I wave
my tampons around like flags of my womanhood. Even just the other week, when I
was working in a different office, out in a fire hall, surrounded by middle
aged men, I hid my tampon in my bra while I walked from my office to the
bathroom. I know why I did it; I didn’t want to be looked at funny, I didn’t
want my semi-misogynistic supervisor (who tore down his pin up calendar when I
walked into his office and was weirded out by my reading Ariel Levy’s Female Chauvinist Pigs- a fabulous read,
by the way-) to start treating me weirdly because it was my “time of the
month.” Whether or not any of this would have actually happened, I don’t know.
But next month, I will not hide my tampon in my bra, I will carry it in my
hand, the way one would carry a document to the photocopier. Not like I’m
showing it off (because face it, my tampon is not worth showing off, it’s about
to be shoved into my vagina) but normally. Like it’s no big deal (which it
isn’t.) Because I realize that there is nothing wrong with my tampon. There is
something wrong with people who have a problem with my tampon.
