Video Transcription
Isobel Marshall tackling stigma of menstruation
Every month, my body becomes the banks of a river, a river shimmering and red, like liquid rubies. Sometimes I despise those days—the pain, the carousel of emotion, the bottomless pit of appetite. Other times, I am in awe. What a miracle I am, the perfect system that every month knows to put a full stop on a sentence I want finished, that knows to empty out the house for the baby that didn’t move in. How wondrous it is that all of that happens, and I don’t need to do a thing. What miracles we all are, and yet…
Memories creep back—times when I couldn’t see the miracle because I was too busy trying to hide everything: the smell, the color, the stains, the emotions, the pads, the used ones, and even the new ones in the grocery store. I’d stash them under a bag of potato chips, like I was hiding some terrible transgression, like it was a sin to have a reproductive system. Then, in high school, moving with the stealth of a ninja, trying to silently manoeuvre a tampon out of my bag and into my pocket so the boys wouldn’t see and then deem me forever unlovable, like it was disgusting that my body just does what it’s meant to do.
How did we get here? How did I get here? And even from where I’m standing, I’m still one of the lucky ones. I’m privileged because I’m not one of the 12 percent of young people around the world who don’t have access to menstruation products. I’ve never missed a day of school because my family had to pick food over pads. And each of these statistics— they have a mother, a father, a family. They want to fit in and be loved, just like we all do. And yet, we exist in a culture that shames us just for functioning.
I may not be able to change the culture, but I can change myself. Years ago, I would have been ashamed to tell you that right now, right now, I have my period. Today, I am bleeding, and I do not need to hide it. Today, I am the banks of a river, a river shimmering and red, and today, I am proud to walk with rubies in between my legs. Period.