Period

by Kate Farrell

  I WAS EXPECTING MAYBE A COUPLE DIME-SIZE SPOTS OF BLOOD, NOT WHAT LOOKED LIKE A MASSACRE IN MY PANTS!

  In my brain, I knew what was happening. I knew this was my period. I had seen those weird, outdated videos in school and even had a body book that I had secretly ordered from the book order in elementary school. Plus, every girl I knew had her period. But when it happened to me, it was a shock to my system. Nobody told me it would be like this. I was expecting maybe a couple dime-size spots of blood, not what looked like a massacre in my pants! It was gooey and mucusy, not at all like the blood you see when you cut yourself. I was so confused. Was this normal? Was something wrong with me? I just kept sobbing to my mom. I remember her immediately sitting up in bed with concern all over her face, but relaxing and smiling with relief when I said I had gotten my period.

  This is actually one of the fondest memories I have in my Mom Memory Bank. We weren’t particularly close, especially in my teen years, but I remember how gentle she was with me that day. How she calmed and soothed me, telling me that all of this was totally normal and that I’d be okay. She gave me a pad to hold me over while we went shopping so I could pick out my own pads and get some dark underwear. For the first time as a teenager, my mom helped me feel okay with my body and the things it was doing. As it turned out, my period didn’t exactly give me the keys to the kingdom of cool, but it did give me the keys to something I wanted on a deeper level: connection and a moment of bonding with my mom, someone I had always felt distant from. So I guess I got my wish—it just looked a little different than I had expected. Kind of like my period.

  DIRTY GIRL

  I started to free myself from period shame in 2010. Admittedly, I was probably more comfortable with my period than anyone else I knew, but there was this one thing that was really holding me back: pads. If you’re a menstruating human, you’ve probably overheard or participated in conversations about how “gross” pads are at some point in your life. Even as a pad user myself, I can definitely check both of those boxes.

  I’m not exactly sure where all this pad shaming started, but I’d guess cis men had something to do with it. I’ve seen and heard what many men think of periods in general and pads more specifically—men who aren’t necessarily bad people. They think periods are gross. They think tampons are “less dirty” and more sanitary because they’re inside your body and less noticeable. They get uncomfortable if their girlfriend is wearing a pad because it feels like she’s wearing a diaper. The list goes on and on. So naturally, this makes women feel awful and ashamed of their bodies and their choices. We internalize this and try to find ways to be less “gross” and more appealing. Pad shaming, unfortunately, is one of those solutions.

  Now, I’m not here to go into some long analysis about our cultural and social views on menstruation (even though it’s one of my favorite topics), but I wanted to give a nugget of context before getting into the main event: the two people who helped me free myself from pad shame, one of whom is … Surprise! A man.

  I.

  I was living in San Francisco in 2010 with a few roommates in a loft apartment. I shared a tiny room downstairs with one girl. Despite the cramped quarters, it was a dream rooming with her. We shared a bathroom, a mutual level of respect, and a love for MAC makeup, and agreed from day one to be communicative and open when it came to our space. On top of that, she was hilarious and incredibly kind. When someone talked, she listened, and not in the way of just nodding her head and then proceeding to talk about herself. I mean really listened. The kind of listening where someone doesn’t say anything, but they look you in the eyes and they see you, and that’s enough.

  Needless to say, I loved living together, but there was one moment when I really felt like I put our relationship on the line. You see, sometimes when I take a shower and I’m on my period, I just take off my underwear and leave my pad still in it. This is because: (a) I’m lazy, and (b) I wrap my used pad in a new pad’s wrapper, and I’m not going to be putting on a new pad until I’m out of the shower. Logistically it just doesn’t make sense to dispose of the old one until I’m done. So bloody-pad underwear on the floor it is!

  Usually, this is a seamless process. No one knows any of this is happening. Except this one time when I showered while on my period, and my roommate needed to use the bathroom. I was so focused on getting out quickly so she could get in that I ran out in my towel and completely forgot to grab my underwear. Now you may be thinking that I had it off in a corner, somewhere not so noticeable, but NOPE! It was smack-dab in the middle of the floor and it wasn’t a light day, so there was blood all over that thing. I realized this as soon as she was in and shut the door. I paced outside, waiting for her to scream in disgust, but there was nothing. Maybe she was so grossed out that she had been shocked into silence? To say I was mortified would be an understatement.

  A couple of minutes (which seemed like hours) passed and she came out of the bathroom. I anxiously looked at her with apologetic eyes, waiting for her to say something. She looked at me, totally confused. I immediately started apologizing and trying to explain myself and she stopped me in the middle of my rambling. She said, “It’s okay. It’s no big deal. It doesn’t bother me at all.” I was shocked. Dumbfounded. She meant it, too. She proceeded to go on with her day, completely unfazed.

  As I went into the bathroom and picked up my underwear, I remember thinking that this was a moment to remember. I didn’t know why, but I felt like it was significant deep down inside me, and I was right. I was harboring shame over wearing pads and my little bathroom habit. To have someone see all of those things, plus what my actual menstrual blood looked like (which no one had seen except myself), and not bat an eye or see me differently—that was huge. My roommate made me see myself and my body in a different light: a body filled with a heart and mind and soul that was worthy of friendship and love. That day, when I threw out the used pad that I’d left on the bathroom floor, I threw out all the years of shame that came with it.

  II. GOING THE DISTANCE

  Interestingly, a few weeks after the pad-on-the-floor incident, I found myself in another predicament: getting my period while I was with the guy I was dating at the time and being totally unprepared for it. This had never happened to me before.

  We were in his apartment chatting; he was sitting at his desk and I was standing at the foot of his bed. Usually my period starts with a few light drops and I have about an hour before full flow is in effect. This was not one of those times. As I stood in his room, I felt a rush of wetness in my crotch. And not the “Ooooh, I’m into this!” kind of wetness. It was my period and it was here in full force.

  I froze. My eyes probably looked like I had seen a ghost and I could feel my heart racing. In the past, the guys I had dated wanted nothing to do with my period. I was newly dating this guy, so I really had no idea where he stood with it all, but based off previous experiences I was guessing he’d probably fall into the same boat. I was wrong. Oh so very wrong. When he saw me freeze, he immediately asked what was wrong. I blurted out, “My period just started.” I felt trapped. I could only move as far as the bathroom to stuff tissues down my pants because every movement I made just prompted more blood to come out. I knew this was a temporary solution and so did he. He calmly asked me, “What do you need?” and I said, “Pads.”

  He proceeded to run out the door, out of the building, around the corner, and down the street to the nearest convenience store. I know this because I was standing by the window and saw him bolting down the sidewalk. I had never seen anyone move so fast for me. I smiled, and in that moment I knew he was special. I knew this moment was special. I hadn’t had the best relationship experience prior to this. I had been hurt. I had hurt people. I had been taken advantage of. I had been raped. And I had definitely never had a boyfriend who would go out and buy me pads. When he returned, he was out of breath but smiled as he gave me the plastic bag containing my pads. I was so relieved.

  Over the course of our relations
hip together, relief was a common theme. He brought down my walls and he was living proof that kindness, acceptance, a willingness to learn, and a capacity for compassion can exist in all men. Eventually our relationship ended because we were moving to different cities, but I’ve never forgotten our time together. He was the first man I had been romantically involved with who truly accepted me. He was my first lesson in finding the people who will go the distance for you.

  DOING THE WORK

  As I sit here now, almost eight years later, I see how much my life has changed. I have a job that allows me to express my creativity and put meaningful work out into the world. I have a small group of best friends that I’d do anything for. I’ve come out as lesbian and I’m dating a badass woman I absolutely adore. Plus, my mom and I are closer than ever. I’ve experienced a lot more period firsts, too: trying menstrual cups and discs, having sex on my period, and publicly asking President Obama about the luxury tax on menstrual products (he had no idea it even existed!). Through all these moments and seasons of life, I have worked hard, kept faith, and continued to menstruate. My period has helped me examine the world through a different lens. I see the beauty, the history, the science, and the inequality that permeates our social interactions and government. All of this just because 50 percent of the population is shedding some uterine lining. I don’t think anyone who has a period would consider this totally natural bodily function a luxury. So why are we treated like we’re lesser than, while simultaneously being charged more for our biology? Why is reform being pitched to and then denied by panels of cis men who have never had a period in their lives? When will they get over themselves, step aside, and listen?

  Yeah, this is all pretty daunting, but despite the seemingly impossible obstacles, change is happening if you look closely. Our voices are growing and getting louder. History knows we make the impossible a reality. We’re in this battle and we’re out here for blood.

  My Period and Me: A Trans Guy’s Guide to Menstruation

  WILEY READING

  I’m doing the cramp wiggle at my desk chair right now.

  You know, the seat acrobatics you do when you’ve got cramps, but you’re too lazy to get up and get Advil, and it hasn’t gotten bad enough yet that you’ve got to lie on the ground with your butt up in the air.

  It’s funny. When I initially began writing this, I hadn’t had anything resembling a period in months. And then my doctor switched my birth control on me, and my reproductive organs took full advantage of the slight change in hormones. My body really, really wants to menstruate, y’all.

  Oh. This might be a good time to mention that I’m a dude—one with a uterus. A very, very excitable uterus.

  I actually did okay when the Great Body Part Mechanic in the Sky was handing out body parts. I have broad shoulders; fat settles on my belly instead of my thighs; and I have narrow hips. I’m built like a little bull (or refrigerator).

  So although I don’t take testosterone, my body looks male in many ways that are important to me.

  Unfortunately, there’s still my reproductive system.

  When I got my period—at eleven—I discovered that my female hormones were just about as excited about menstruation as they could possibly be.

  I used to think that this was something I’d just have to deal with, like my small hands and long eyelashes. But then my psychiatrist prescribed me birth control pills.

  She had correctly identified that I’m least emotionally stable in the weeks before and after my period. So I got to take birth control for “continuous suppression of periods.”

  I mostly get to forget that I can have periods. But I can’t pretend that I’m going to be able to avoid it permanently. Every once in a while, I have a full-blown period attack.

  So that’s my life. My period is going to period whenever it gets the chance.

  It’s not easy. Everyone in the world thinks periods are the ultimate expression of femininity. Sometimes it makes me feel very, very feminine.

  But the truth is, there’s no reason bleeding makes me feminine. Gynecomastia doesn’t make men women, and my period doesn’t make me one either.

  Most trans guys have to deal with their periods at some point or another. It’s not something we talk about—a lot of us are ashamed, which is understandable.

  But this shouldn’t be a shameful thing. We should be able to talk about what our bodies are doing and help one another out with tips and support.

  I’m trying to start a conversation both about why menstruation isn’t an inherently female thing—if trans men experience it, it can’t be truly female, can it?—and how talking about our bodies is sometimes the best way to fight gender dysphoria and learn new things about how to improve our lives.

  Periods happen to lots and lots of people. Many of them are women and girls, but those of us who are something else should have a context for our experience and a way of talking about it without being misgendered.

  So here’s what I do to help myself feel better when I’m getting a visit from Aunt Period.

  1. AVOID “FEMININE PRODUCTS”

  I like to not wear pads or tampons or any sort of quote-unquote “feminine product.”

  This is not possible for everyone, and it’s not even possible for me without the aid of birth control.

  When I do need to buy them, sometimes I ask my girlfriend to buy them for me; sometimes I make a lot of jokes about it in my head. I remind myself that the cashier definitely does not care what I’m purchasing. If I’m feeling particularly fragile about it, I avoid stores where I might run into the same cashier again.

  But when it is possible, it makes me feel more like myself experiencing a medical condition and less like I’m a lady flower experiencing lady uterus ladyship.

  2. TREAT IT WITH A SENSE OF HUMOR

  For example, I call it a “man period.” I joke to myself about it. I joke to my friends and girlfriend about it.

  I make it silly so it’s less likely to upset me. If I make light of it, it has less power over me.

  Silly things don’t cause deep emotions.

  When you trip over your shoelaces in front of your mean-girl coworkers, you can make it serious: Wonderful, now they’re gonna think I’m klutzy; or you can make it funny: Of course I had to trip just then. Perhaps I should take up ballet.

  It’s not easy to embrace the latter perspective, but I’ve found when you make yourself take things less seriously, everyone else follows suit.

  3. REMEMBER THAT ANATOMY ISN’T A BINARY

  It helps to remind myself that there are more similarities between “male” and “female” anatomy than there are differences.

  I’m not going to get ejected from the realm of masculinity because my set of gonads produces blood from time to time. I didn’t get “born into the wrong body.” I just developed a little differently from some guys.

  We all have the same basic stuff. My junk just got a little confused along the way.

  Also, we have this idea that there are male genitals and female genitals and nothing in between, and that they are polar opposites. This couldn’t be further from the truth.

  Human sexuality is a glorious mess, and it makes me feel better to know that I’m not at the wrong end of the binary. I’m just somewhere on the spectrum like everyone else.

  4. TALK TO OTHER TRANS GUYS ABOUT IT

  A lot of trans guys have periods, for whatever reason. And a lot of them are very philosophical about it. I definitely recommend talking to them.

  I find it’s easier to put things in perspective when I feel like I’m not the only one experiencing something.

  I have some male friends who still get their periods, and they experience a range of feelings about it, but hearing a trans guy complain about getting his period like it’s a totally normal thing for a dude to complain about makes me feel like I can treat it like a totally normal thing to complain about, too.

  MY BODY IS NOT FEMALE. MY MENSTRUATION IS NOT FEMALE. IT JUST IS. MY BODY JUS
T IS.

  Talking about your reproductive organs as a masculine-identified person is a political act. If we openly talk about it, there’s less shame. If there’s less shame, there’s less pain and more acceptance.

  5. LET GO OF EXPECTATIONS

  Lastly, and most simply, I try to let go of my expectations.

  We all grow up with a link between sex and gender and ideas about what’s intrinsically male and female.

  Even though I have more information now, and I know intellectually that sex and gender aren’t as simple as I was raised to believe, it takes time to override my upbringing.

  I may have to remind myself over and over again that having a period doesn’t make me female any more than having nipples makes someone a mother, but someday I’ll overcome my conditioned ideas of sex and gender and be able to fully accept that men can have periods.

  My body is not female. My menstruation is not female. It just is. My body just is.

  My body is its own thing. It does what it does, and that’s fine. Getting my period is painful and bloody and messy and annoying, but it doesn’t have to make me feel like less of a guy.

  The amount of pain I hear from trans men related to their periods is substantial. But by talking about it and degendering it, we can lessen the pain.

  Menstruating doesn’t have to be a girl thing.

  Black Blood

  ASHLEY REESE

  In the rare moments when pop culture stops clutching its pearls for two seconds and acknowledges that periods are an actual thing instead of a tablespoon of blue liquid on a maxi pad, television, movies, and books always depict a first period in such a grandiose manner. There’s the overenthusiastic mother who considers first periods revelatory and calls for a celebration of the menses persuasion. Or there’s the scenario where a character’s first period starts in front of their crush, leading to mortification of the highest level. And then you have something like Carrie, in which periods are couched in this kind of body horror that, if anything, is a lot more realistic than Mom baking a “Congrats on getting your period” cake.