Period Taboo & Sexual Shame
It’s crazy how modern gynecology is based off the study of Black women bodies, and yet so many Black families silence sexual health conversations. About a year before I started menstruating my mother gave me a thin book with Caucasian Christian cartoon bodies and expected me to learn all I needed to know about my vulva and menstruation. I was grossly uninformed for decades. My mother has a tendency to belittle and berate those that don’t know what she thinks they should know, so I was not encouraged to ask curious questions throughout childhood. My observations and feelings were often dismissed and stifled, which set the stage for me to lack agency over my body.
When I started to menstruate at 12 years old, I had watched enough commercials to know that women either used tampons or pads to collect their period blood. I found pads under the bathroom sink in my mother’s house and taught myself how to use them. I did not know how frequently they needed to be changed. My mother shamed and scolded me when I bleed through my pad, panties and jeans onto my grandmother’s armchair, as if it were my fault that I didn’t know that menstrual products needed to be changed every 2-3 hours based on the heaviness of your flow. Instead of allowing me to go home to clean myself up, my mother forced me to mingle at my grandmother’s house in my blood-soaked pants and panties. I was humiliated.
Later, I overheard my mother; she spat the words into the phone as if sharing a salacious piece of gossip. Whomever was on the other end got an earful that I had started my cycle and did not tell my mother. Her voice completely devoid of compassion and care for a child whose body was rapidly changing beyond their own understanding. My menstrual cycle mortified me for decades. I dreaded the inevitable stains on my panties and sheets. My face contorted at the sight and smell of a used tampon or pad; I was repulsed by my own blood and body. I built up years’ worth of disdain and disgust for myself. I spent 1,512 days of my adolescence and young adulthood holding onto contempt for my body and human reproductive system.
Thankfully, my mindfulness practices created space for me to change the way I expressed self-care. I turned 29 in 2012 and followed my life-long dream to relocate to Los Angeles. The OBGYN I found in LA completed a pelvic examine during my first visit and immediately determined that I needed surgery for my uterine fibroids. This was the first time a doctor ever diagnosed me with fibroids; she barely took a breath before she recommended surgery. Black women are the number one demographic to receive an unnecessary hysterectomy, and so I did not trust this doctor’s premature jump to surgery. That was my first and last time in her office. I sought out another OBGYN and started to research uterine fibroids causes, symptoms and treatments. My uterus was swollen, but my fibroids were only a few centimeters small, and I hadn’t been experiencing any pain or increased menstrual flow as far as I knew.
It’s impossible to determine menstrual flow by using pads and tampons because of the absorbent nature of the products. I had just started hearing about menstrual cups so I found a brand and started to use them to monitor my menstruation. Being able to measure my menstrual flow expanded my awareness exponentially. Once I started tracking, I realized I was only releasing about 3 oz of blood per cycle which is totally within normal range. I became super knowledgeable about the anatomy of my vulva while figuring out how to properly insert a menstrual cup. I even learned the location of my urethra and the anatomy factored into the advice to wipe from front to back. The vulva is a vessel; it’s structured to receive, which is why people with vulvas tend to contract STIs at a higher rate than people without vulvas. It’s likely I would’ve protected myself more if I were properly educated about my anatomy and body autonomy was emphasized prior to my first sexual experience.
My uterine fibroids eventually shifted the position of my cervical opening which made it more uncomfortable for me to wear menstrual cups, so I switched over to menstrual discs and learned even more about my anatomy. The disc needed to be tucked behind my pubic bone to completely cover the opening of the cervix; I then had the monthly challenge of trying to figure out where my pubic bone was located in relation to my cervix. Apparently, there’s all kinds of Reddit treads helping people with vulvas find their pubic bones. I never tapped into these resources and just felt my way through it. My monthly menstrual self-study shifted my perspective on the ways in which I practice self-love.
Through my mindfulness meditation I was able to accept my menstrual cycle (and my body) with more loving kindness. I practiced breathing through the removal and insertion of discs and cups to not only ease my discomfort but to also lighten my self-loathing. I started approaching my cycles with compassion and curiosity. It became easier to embrace the physical changes that were occurring in my body as well as the hormonal imbalances that contributed to my PMS symptoms.
Stifling the conversation on how to properly care for one’s body during puberty, continues the stigma and perpetuates shame. What if adults removed their discomfort at the door and created a safe space to be in communication with young people? What if the conversation started with, “I love you and I want you to be in dialogue with you so that you know more about your anatomy and the amazingness of all your body functions”? What if adults taught young people to have agency over their bodies? Young people would be more informed and empowered to have conversations around consent, sexual history, and pleasure with their potential partners. These early conversations would shape future sexual health conversations and effectively stop the stigma.
