Text Jessica Ramos
Published January 12, 2021 12:00am PST
When I bought my first box of tampons after moving to Spain, I was ecstatic to only have to pay 4 euro (or $4.92 USD). That’s because in California, where I grew up, boxes were around $7 to $9 for the same amount. I’d always wondered why they were so expensive--and back when I was in high school with no job and was too embarrassed to ask her dad, $7 was expensive. I wouldn’t learn until writing for this article that tampons were actually taxed as a luxury non-essential item at the highest percent. Meanwhile, some items that were deemed essential and tax-exempt as health and personal items were “ChapStick, Viagra, and dandruff shampoo."
In January 2020, the luxury tax was removed from period products and diapers in the state of California after the Senate Bill 92 passed. But that will only count for the next two years. Compare that to Scotland, the first country in the world to offer free period products. The Period Products (Free Provision) (Scotland) Bill states that anyone who needs period products needs to have access to them with ease and dignity.
The accessibility of period products has always affected those who need access the most, such as people of color, who are sometimes raised with negative cultural stereotypes around periods, unhoused people with periods, and trans people. Taking a look at Pomona, the poverty rate is at 20.1%, with women 38% more likely to live in poverty than men. Plus, tampons and period products were not available for purchase with food stamps, Medicaid, or health insurance spending accounts, until only recently with the Coronavirus Aid, Relief, and Economic Securities Act. Without accessibility, people with periods may have to miss school or work or use unclean products to stop the bleeding, which add to negative associations with periods. And even if people do have access to tampons, these products harm the environment and contain undisclosed chemicals in them, which, after a study tested them, were found to have pesticide residue, various carcinogens, and antibacterial chemicals. To top it all off, Covid-19 has only exacerbated period poverty to the point that organizations who were struggling to provide access will find it that much harder.
People of color will likely deal with period poverty more just due to the economic disparity between these demographics and their white counterparts, and yet the products on the market that are supposed to help destigmatize periods or promote education have been marketed by and towards white (and usually cis) women.
The diva cup is a reusable menstrual cup that has gained traction over the years, but still hasn’t become mainstream, despite its positive attributes like the fact that it’s cheaper in the long run and better for the environment. Out of all the women I know, only one uses a diva cup, and she is a white woman. “My friend tried one and couldn’t get it out for three days,” a hispanic friend of mine told me the other night when the topic of periods came up. That just solidified my own resistance to the cup even more.
it probably has something to do with my Hispanic heritage, even if I didn’t feel like I was raised to be in touch with my roots. My mom didn’t want me to use tampons, though she never explained why. My guess is it had something to do with the ideas around tampons that they could damage a girl’s hymen. One study said that compared to European women’s 71%, only 22% of English-speaking Latinas used tampons and 5% of Spanish-speaking Latinas. So, I snuck tampons in the house via friends or, admittedly, shoplifted them, until I could afford to buy them myself. For Black youths, there are a lot of stigmas associated with periods and period products, and menstrual cups are seen as dirty, just as periods themselves are inherently seen the same way. While I can’t speak to this specifically, this Teen Vogue article covered the topic well.
People of color are also less likely to speak up about our pain or our periods, leaving us less educated on potential warning signs of serious health issues, like endometriosis, uterine fibroids, or Polycystic Ovary Syndrome (PCOS), just to name a few. As a teenager, I’d fear the first day of my flow because of how much it hurt. I’d ask to go home from school or work, and subsequently be judged or shamed about it, which informed how I deny my own pain as an adult.
Still, a lot of period positivity ignores a lot of that, instead, looking to express period positivity in a shallow, cisgendered, ableist, and white heteronormative perspective. While it’s great that a lot of organizations do try to provide global access and education to developing nations, there’s that same issue of ethnocentrism that we see with volunteer tourism, of looking at other cultures as barbaric for the way they treat people with periods and failing to look in their own backyards to the period poverty that exists there already.
So what can be done to help achieve period equity? Free access to period products is a start, and hopefully many more countries will follow Scotland’s lead. I’m a big proprietor of speaking up when you want change. With menstruation education, it can be tricky. Being culturally taught that periods are gross can automatically shut people down to the conversation. But normalizing the topic is something we can all attempt to do. Making our period positivity more inclusive by including trans and non-binary people into the conversation is also important. Donating to organizations that represent global period equity can help. It's important to do your own research on the different values of the various organizations, but some I found are DaysforGirls, HashtagHappyPeriod, HelpingWomenPeriod, thePeriodCollective, and of course, don’t forget your local shelters.
I’ve dealt with period shame and stigma in almost all its forms, but still don’t experience what unhoused, incarcerated, or people with periods in developing nations have had to deal with, and hopefully the message can do better to truly achieve equity.
Jessica is a Salvadoran freelance writer with interests in cities, art, social justice, and the intersections between. Originally from LA county, Jessica graduated from Cal Poly Pomona with a BA in English Education and took that degree to Madrid, Spain where she now teaches English to high schoolers when she's not busy reading and writing.
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