Could We Please Be Spared Your Fear of My Period?

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.