I like my period

What do you call it when you're on your period?

I use the word “menstruation” when communicating with women because it's neutral. In personal communication with my partner or my family, I say: “My blood has come to me”, “I have blood”.

My friends and I used to say, “Aunt flow has come to visit.” This term seemed absurd, incomprehensible to me, but I used it, there was no other one. Where did this “aunt” come from?

The ambiguity of this word very well reflects the way we talk about menstruation. “Aunt” is also present in English-speaking countries, referring to “Aunt Ruby”, or “redheaded aunt” who has just arrived. This is linked to the concept of a godmother, a positive, supportive figure, the 13th fairy who appears to introduce you to female affairs. She's a grown-up woman who is close to you, not your mother, and you can tell her about your affairs. The longing for her manifests itself even in fairy tales. This aunt comes to support you in your first period.

It's a beautiful concept, and in Polish the equivalent of the word “faggot” has been derived from it, which is rather nasty.

There are two different attitudes hidden behind these words. The word “aunt” has devolved into the equivalent of “faggot”, an insult directed at effeminate men. In our culture, men are often insulted by being told they behave in a feminine way.

In February this year, Difference conducted a study commissioned by the Kulczyk Foundation on the way we talk about menstruation through words and images. As a cultural anthropologist, you've been doing this for 20 years. Can you see a change?

Above all, the fact that such a study could be conducted at all shows what great a change has been made. Ten years ago, I was trying to create a semantic field of the word “menstruation” in the women's press, to capture how menstruation is treated. I went to the reading room, took all the magazines, and it turned out that during a year, the word “menstruation” came up once, in one article. My report was very short, I was unable to create any semantic field. The studies carried out by Difference show that alongside medical language that has been used for a long time and euphemisms, there's also a more neutral and even positive language. The fact that Instagrammers and activists such as Maja Staśko publish their photos with a menstrual blood stain is a novelty.

Was there a turning point?

2016, the famous cover of “Wysokie Obcasy” with red glitter stained panties. In my opinion, it was the signal that we can talk about menstruation at all.

But we weren't ready – there were outraged comments about publishing a picture with poop on the cover, ew!

I feel like we're never gonna be ready to talk about it if we don't talk about it. We won't suddenly find ourselves at the perfect moment. And by speaking up, we make room for ourselves in the discourse, we regain space to talk publicly about the experience of menstruation. I have a feeling that we prodded a hornet's nest then. We'll see if maybe we can get an interview with someone who experiences menstruation as pleasurable. And maybe under the title “I like my period”? It still seems too taboo to me.

What did the menstrual discourse look like 15 years ago?

When I used the word “menstruation” in the title of my lecture, no one came to it. If there were any references to a woman's body, women would come. When I started talking about menstruation and the taboos surrounding it, they were in total shock. And then it got phenomenal.

The study by Difference shows that although there is new, positive content that refers to menstruation as an exceptional time, unity with the power of nature, and indulgence, negative contexts that refer to embarrassment, emotional instability, malaise and pain predominate. How does that affect us?

I see it as feedback. We learn the prevailing language and there is no place in it to express a different, also positive, menstruation experience. In this way we lock the door on it. We are caught in a cultural code, a form: we mock menstruation, we complain that it's so terrible. What if someone like me likes menstruation? Cultural patterns work by telling us what to think and how to behave in certain situations. They also tell us who a menstruating woman is and how she feels. This very interesting report shows that cultural patterns regarding menstruation as taboo impurity are residual, i.e. outdated. In my opinion, although the term “unclean” is no longer used directly, this code has not gone away at all. Menstruation still functions as something disgusting, hideous, depriving women of their dignity, although no one will ever say so directly.

Then how do you know about it?

Over the years, I've observed a social ritual that women act out when they talk about menstruation. It was confirmed by the study published this spring by the Kulczyk Foundation. Well, women unwittingly act out the following scene. One says: “Ugh, I hate my period”, and the other replies: “You're so right, it's a nightmare”, et cetera. In this way, they reach a consensus, confirming the cultural point of view. You can't say: “And I really like my period”, because then you break the deal and risk being expelled from the group.

But why do we do this?

I've been thinking about this for a long time, and I have a hypothesis. Menstruation has always been proof that we, women, are stupider, worse, intellectually disabled – we still hear comments at work and at home: “Why are you so nervous, are you on your period?” Or: “You're insane, we'll talk when your period is over”. If menstruation is evidence of our worseness, then we will create a ritual that will help us distance, separate ourselves from it – here's the evil menstruation, and here am I, and I have nothing to do with it. Distancing helps us feel better, regain our dignity. It's a little bit like in the sentence: “I'm all for women's rights, but I'm not a feminist”. Because being a feminist is being an aggressive woman that nobody wants to fuck.

I haven't read your book on seven ways to deal with painful menstruation yet, but I can tell from the description that one of them is to change the message of “female fate”. Do I understand correctly that a cultural code can influence the perception of pain?

Yes, it can affect the experience of the body. Many women actually experience menstruation as painful and I absolutely understand that for this reason they may not like it – after all, we don't wait with longing for a toothache. That's why I'm very interested in why 60-70% of healthy women suffer from menstruation and what we can do about it. If we suffer five days a month for 30-40 years, then the cake is worth the candle. “Woman's fate” is not my term, this is what doctors or mothers say when they address their daughters during their first menstruation: “Welcome to a woman's world, now you will suffer every month”. This message makes us assume that this must be the case, and we don't try to change it at all. Think about it, if any other part of your body hurts persistently over the years, you start looking, asking what you can do about it. You don't assume, for example: I'm a child, my ears must hurt. And we are in a collective hypnosis – we must suffer, there is no choice. And I say: yes, there is. And to be clear, I don't make women like their periods. I'm just saying, you can shape patterns of culture that are more female-friendly and don't cause menstrual pain.

So our pain is cultural?

There are various reasons: an improper diet or tensions in the pelvic area, which also start somewhere. There's also culture and psyche. And yes, I think our menstrual pain is culturally conditioned. I've been researching this for years, and I've come to this conclusion. Many women tell me that they feel angry at menstruation, they think: I hate it, I hate the uterus, I hate myself, I'm always on my period when I go on a trip, I wish I didn't menstruate. If we keep saying this for 40 years, we give ourselves a lot of self-aggression.

Why do we do this? Who's telling us to?

The intergenerational message, the family message about the role of a woman, the difficult, often even traumatic experience of the first menstrual period, which is heard with each subsequent one. For example, a girl didn't know that menstruation existed, and she thought she was dying. In addition, there is the whole Polish morality related to sexuality. There are a lot of girls whose parents react to their first menstruation: now you're gonna get laid, we need to control you. I mean, a little girl doesn't understand any of this! These different experiences make menstruation painful.

Are there girls free from such a message?

Yes! In my workshops, women talk about their experience in turn. One of them says, “Every time my period comes, I feel great, I look pretty, I have great skin. Because my mum always said, 'You look great, honey, are you menstruating?'.” Then another one across the room shouts, “How come I always feel fat, gross, pimply, because my mum and grandma used to say, 'You look worse, are you menstruating?'." This confrontation and the certainty of each of them that this is the case were incredible!

I'm talking to you right now when I haven't had my period in three years. I don't miss it at all, on the contrary, I feel relieved. And I'm very curious to know what you actually like about it. Do you look beautiful? Do you cook better?

I don't cook at all then. My partner does it. (laughs).

Now I know why you like it.

I've always liked it, but it was filled with pain. Only when it doesn't hurt, can you experience menstruation. First of all, red blood is beautiful to me on an aesthetic level. Secondly, I have come a long way to feel my body, and I am in contact with it, and because this contact no longer involves evaluation: I am too fat, too skinny, I should look different – the very experience of blood coming out of my body is very pleasant for me. It is also a period of relaxation: jaws, facial muscles, a moment of relief, like entering a chamber with salt water and drifting on top of it. For me, menstruation is a time of deep relaxation, good and deep sleep at night. Because I allow myself to be so relaxed, usually on the third day of menstruation I have an explosion of sexual energy and loads of ideas. I have a notebook by my bed. I keep writing something down. It's an incredibly creative time.

Sounds kind of fantastic.

The period is kind of a fantastic, borderline experience. Blood flows from the body and it is not related to illness or violence. This is quite unusual, and I find it very inspiring.

This new message of menstruation as a time of power also appears in the study. I like the idea that this would be a time of relaxation, indulgence, celebration of femininity. But, for example, putting a mask of menstrual blood on my face is too much for me.

It's good that there are extreme cases, thanks to which the standard expands and becomes healthier. But I'd like to emphasise very strongly that awareness of what the menstrual cycle looks like and how it affects your body doesn't have to manifest itself in performing lunar magic rituals or using New Age rhetoric. For me, spiritual celebration is of value, which results from observation of the cycle and is based on knowledge of it. We can also completely separate scientific facts from spiritual rituals. We have a cycle that has specific phases – e.g. oestrogens that are released before and during ovulation, strengthen our ability to communicate and express ourselves. It's not an old wives' tale, it's knowledge. If we adapt our work to the cycle and plan more difficult tasks for that time, we will simply be more productive. Taking a rest during your period doesn't have to take place in the paradigm of celebrating menstruation, we can do it as part of strengthening our agency. I call it ovulation culture – we constantly want to be on a high wave and fly into space with activity, and the whole side related to forgiveness, regeneration, recycling doesn't appeal to us at all. Menstruation represents this, so we don't like it either. Women require constant 100% activity from themselves in all fields. When you're 20, you can do it, but if you never give yourself a break, at 40, you're burned out, unable to continue this juggling of duties. I notice a clear difference among women who allow themselves to regenerate during their period. They get a lot of energy then and they can move mountains.

You keep saying we have to co-create cultural patterns. What does this mean in practice?

Talking to young children. Your kid walks into the bathroom, you're on your period. Hey, what are you doing, mum? We are often accompanied by uncertainties about how we are actually supposed to make children aware. If we hide the existence of menstruation, then suddenly it turns out that other things like erection, sex, menstruation, or orgasm exist – and it's all offloaded onto children at the same time. On top of that, they learn about all these important things from someone else, from the Internet, porn sites. Overcoming the taboo means talking about your period in your family as a normal thing. Then you don't shock your kids, and you transmit a new cultural code.

I was at the seaside with my family this summer, and seven cousins were playing on the beach. The oldest girl started menstruating this year, and she was on her period then. She didn't swim in the sea. At first, I didn't understand why. I completely forgot that I also got this message once: you are not allowed in the pool, water. And I remembered it. I felt angry, I walked up to her and said, “It doesn't matter, jump in the water, swim!” And I saw uncertainty in her. “Gosh, Natalia, you're right, really”. It makes me so angry!

The menstrual period is like a hijab. Before we talked, I was still thinking about the language used to talk about menstruation, and I felt that it was very closely related to the language we use for our intimate parts. In my opinion, this is the long and the short of it. This discrimination, you're crazy because you're menstruating. And in Poland when you stand up for other women, you hear that you're displaying “ovarian solidarity”.

It's just joking around, it's cool even.

Exactly, just joking around. Did you know that in the 1950s and 1960s, when you used to say “those days”, your genitals were called the “lower unmentionables”? See how strong the term is – it simply shows you what you can't say. In medical language there is the Polish word for the vulva, which in Old Polish means shame, a terrible defeat. Why is it called that anyway? 'Cause it's got dirty blood coming out of it, and it's embarrassing. Why does medicine keep using this word? Doctors here still use the Polish term for the labia vulva which literally mean “lips of shame”. We don't have words for menstruation, we don't have words for female parts of the body. And you have generations of girls who say “butt” because their mums teach them that they have “a butt in the front and a butt in the back”.

I also found myself hesitating what to tell my two-and-a-half-year-old son. He used to look at me with curiosity, touch my hairs, and ask me, “What have you got here?” And I said, “A pussy.” But somehow, I don't know if I like that word.

You came out of this place, son, into the world, but we don't have a word for it. Astonishing, huh? Butt? It's not a good metaphor. Why don't you like the word “pussy”? Because you've heard it many times: “stupid pussy” or “what a pussy”. ;

Or twat.

Just like that with that equivalent of “faggot”, right? Pussy and faggot – two pieces of evidence that we're worse. I may sound vulgar to someone, but that's our language, and we're talking about it. Vagina is medical. The Polish word for vagina means a scabbard for a sword, a military reference.

And a container for something, I don't like the fact that it doesn't exist independently of the sword.

In English-speaking countries, the word “cunt” is a much worse profanity than the Polish word “cipa”, and do you know where it comes from? Etymological sources go back to the names of the Indian goddesses Cunti or Kunda, the Roman goddess Cunina, who protected children in cradles, or words meaning knowledge, wisdom. My female colleagues and I decided years ago to use the word “yoni”, which in Sanskrit means “sacred space”. We liked that finally there was an unmarked word, but it remained a niche word. My friends' daughters were very proud, touching themselves and saying, “Wow, I have a yoni.” I remember a four-year-old girl coming home from kindergarten and saying, “Mum, Zuzia says she's got a butt in the front, how do I explain to her that her butt is in the back?” What are we supposed to tell girls? And boys? We should face this question and start a change, that is how we become co-creators of culture. We do it in our language and in our experience. For now, we have a “pussy” – what are we supposed to do with it?

 

 Maria Hawranek interviews Natalia Miłuńska 

Illustrated by Marta Frej

• Natalia Miłuńska - cultural anthropologist, educator, and activist. Author of the book “7 Effective Ways for Painful Menstruation, or How to Turn Pain Into Pleasure”. She runs a menstrual workshop and is a founder of www.miesiaczka.com, and a company producing reusable sanitary pads

The intereview was published in „Wysokie Obcasy” on 14  November 2020