The
Process of Becoming a Woman’s Body: Menstruation and the Containment
of Femininity
Meredith
Guthrie
I
don’t know, it feels yucky – the period, the tampons, it should
be secret.
Jenny (quoted in Ponton, 35)
Most
girls begin puberty somewhere between the ages of eight and twelve,
going through the most significant mandatory body change of their
lives until menopause.1 Puberty is, for both sexes,
confusing. On the one hand, it presages the freedoms of adulthood.
On the other, one’s formerly relied upon and taken for granted body
begins to change in sometimes alarming ways. Also, the sexual maturity
at which puberty points is confusing at best. For girls, the
main milestones during puberty include growing new body hair, getting
breasts, and menarche, or the beginning of menstruation. No
body event in a girl’s (or a woman’s) life is more ambivalently coded
than menstruation. Tied to both the filth of bodily waste and the
possibility of motherhood, menstruation has powerful social connotations
that lead to its virtual erasure from “polite” discourse. Well before
most girls begin to menstruate, they learn how to hide its effects,
usually through consuming an array of products. The ways girls
are taught about their menstrual cycles point, in important ways,
to cultural attitudes about menstruation and the (potentially) reproductive
female body. When
menstruation or menarche are acknowledged openly, it is usually
done for one reason: containment. Advertisements for feminine
hygiene products stress their ability to hide menstrual blood to
the point where the blood itself is erased in favor of a mysterious
blue liquid.2 In these ads, the actual mechanics
of menstruation are never addressed, saving vulnerable men and children
from the knowledge of what, exactly, menstrual products do.
The two billion dollar a year feminine hygiene industry (Brumberg
30) offers items for sale that “protect.” Why do we need so much
protection from menstruation, and who, exactly, is being protected?
Where does the danger lie? In this paper, I address the ways
girls are taught to contain the potential dangers of menstruation
and argue that hiding the realities of menstruation forms part of
girls’ larger project of learning to shape their bodies into the
“contained” or “classical” body of normative femininity.
Many
feminist scholars, such as Judith Butler, have theorized femininity
as a “performance” or “masquerade.” Gender is performed, or done,
by a person as a collection of “acts and gestures, articulated and
enacted desires” that “create the illusion of an interior and organizing
gender core” (Butler 136). Once we begin to realize the performative
nature of gender, we must also begin to recognize that there is,
in fact, no “natural” body. As Butler states, “that the gendered
body is performative suggests that it has no ontological status
apart from the various acts which constitute its reality” (Butler
136). Rather than being “passive and prior to discourse,” the body
is “itself shaped by political forces with strategic interests in
keeping that body bounded and constituted by the markers of sex”
(Butler 129). How can there be a natural, discourse free body when
it is the body itself that must enact so much of the performance
of gender?
One
of the most common misreadings of Butler holds that, since gender
is performative, people are free to pick and choose the performance
they wish to give – people enact masculinity or femininity only
because they want to, not because they must. Butler explicitly
states, however, that “as a strategy of survival within compulsory
systems, gender is a performance with clearly punitive consequences”
for those who fail to perform, or fail to perform correctly (Butler
139). Those who fail risk the far reaching and negative punishments
meted out by a homophobic, patriarchal society.
Part
of performing gender correctly includes erasing the performance,
and mainstream society does this so successfully that the “cultural
fiction” of binary genders “is obscured by the credibility of those
productions” (Butler 140). In the end, the punishments that follow
hard upon our refusal or inability to perform gender correctly “compels”
our insistence in gender’s “necessity and naturalness” (Butler 140).
Even still, though, no one can perform gender completely correctly
because “gender is also a norm that can never be fully internalized
[…] gender norms are finally phantasmic, impossible to embody” (Butler
141).
To
believe that the costume or act of femininity is somehow optional
does an injustice to Butler’s ideas. Even though femininity
has been revealed as a highly changeable and historically specific
act, it is still an act that every girl and woman must perform to
some extent. In this, our specific historical moment, normative
femininity3 is both culturally and economically constructed.
Dawn Currie, author of Girl Talk: Adolescent Magazines and their
Readers, states that “Our participation in beauty rituals is
an economic as well as cultural phenomenon because it engages us
in commodity consumption. As a consequence, gendered identities
cannot be studied apart form the huge ‘culture industry’ that provides
many of our everyday understandings of ‘gender’” (Currie 5).
Currie would have us examine the economic forces at work in everyday
life, and how these forces shape identity. Currie is interested
in “how the existence of multibillion-dollar industries promoting
fashion and beauty links young women’s desires to cultural representations
of femininity” (7-8).
Because
of this, it is important to remember that much of the discourse
that teaches girls about their menstrual cycles has a very specific
economic and classed base. All of the ways mainstream society
teaches girls to contain their menstrual cycles assume that girls
can afford to purchase disposable menstrual products, that they
have a stable enough place of residence to keep their bodies acceptably
clean and that they have parents or guardians attentive enough to
help them with the process of puberty. Further, this line
of thought assumes that girls come from cultural backgrounds that
deal with menstruation in very specific ways. Girls who cannot
meet any of these requirements – due to lack of money, home, guidance
or culture – perforce fail this process before they can begin.
The
two types of texts upon which this paper relies are girls’ magazines
(such as Cosmogirl, Teen People and ELLEgirl)
and body guides. I define a “body guide” as an instructional
manual written by adults for young girls that explains basic body
anatomy, body maintenance and answers general questions about puberty.
Both girls’ magazines and body guides can be read as ideological
texts. According to Dawn Currie, the feminist concept of ideology
is:
the
way in which ideas, beliefs and systems of meaning serve to
sustain relations of domination. To view images as ideological
is not only to expose them as stereotypical constructions, but
to also draw attention to the interests that they serve by restricting
and fixing the meanings of social life. Reference to the ideological
nature of women’s magazine images links their existence and
their effects to patriarchal economic interests (Currie 57).
The
main ideological thrust of girls’ magazines (and, to some extent,
body guides) defines the female body as a signifier which must be
“invested with characteristics which are culturally read as ‘feminine’”
To do this, women must perform “body work” because “not all, or
any, female body is deemed, a priori, as signaling the aesthetic
requirements of ‘femininity’” (Currie 16). It is tempting
to look at such body work, and the texts that introduce and enforce
it, as either oppressive or pleasurable. Currie
would have us get beyond such simple binaries, though, and look
instead at the significance of how and why such texts
work (Currie 66).
How
and why do these texts work, then? Psychoanalyst Lynn Ponton,
who works primarily with adolescents, stresses that girls “are hungry
for knowledge about their periods. It is not easy to obtain. Several
[girls she has interviewed] have described reading the small-print
ads in the Tampax box, searching for information, any information”
(32). When any information (or misinformation) is offered, girls
seize upon it. The bits of information available in magazines, and
the more detailed discussions offered in body guides, then, become
very important to girls. Ponton states that one reason for this
general lack of information is that “Clearly there are long-standing
cultural taboos that prevent open discussion about menstruation,
and they are transmitted to girls quite early, long before they
have their first period.” (33). Ponton further finds that “The lack
of response from the culture only further silences the girls and
helps to maintain the taboo” (33).
Menstrual
Products in Body Guides and Magazines
Both
body guides and girls’ magazines include information on menstrual
products. Body guides present this information primarily in
an instructional manner, while most of the information in magazines
comes from advertisements. In the end, though, both present
menarche as a girl’s entry into the consumption of disposable menstrual
products for the purpose of concealing her period. By focusing
almost exclusively on disposable tampons and pads, in other words,
these books and magazines teach girls that the only way to be considered
“clean” and “acceptable” during their periods is to buy commercially
available, non-reusable menstrual products. As Joan Jacobs Brumberg
states in her book The Body Project, we have a “distinctly
American menstrual experience that stresses personal hygiene over
information about adult womanhood or female sexuality” (Brumberg
30). Brumberg sees important consequences stemming from the commercialization
of menstruation. From “the moment when they begin to menstruate,
American girls and their mothers typically think first about their
external body – what shows and what doesn’t – rather than about
the emotional and social meaning of the maturational process” (Brumberg
29). This “contributes to the way in which adolescent girls make
the body into an intense project requiring careful scrutiny and
constant personal control” (Brumberg 30). Rather than seeing
menstruation as an emotional or social event, American girls are
taught to view menarche as an “external hygienic crisis.” Because
of this, girls learn that the only parts of themselves that
they need to worry about are those seen on the outside. As Brumberg
states, contemporary adolescents’ fears about their bodies have
helped “turn menstrual blood into gold” (49), and because of this,
the sanitary products industry must maintain and encourage bodily
fears to maintain their profit margins. The fears about keeping
one’s body acceptable despite menstruation permeate society, and
are replicated and transmitted through magazine articles and advertisements,
and, to a degree, in body guides.
Advertisements:
Magazines
and body guides offer girls conflicting information about their
bodies. Both stress that disposable products offer freedom of movement
and the protection from/concealment of menstrual blood. In all of
these, the “problem” that femininity presents is a girl’s need to
get on with her normal life despite the fact that she is on her
period (an event that is always placed outside of “normal” life),
and the solution offered is the concealment of the effects of the
period (either menstrual blood or cramps) by the product offered.
Advertisements cannot, or will not, discuss the physical sensations
or cultural meanings of menstruation, so instead they discuss the
need for protection against it.
Since
advertisements for products that collect and conceal menstrual blood
will not explicitly mention their products’ purpose, because the
need for concealment extends into the advertisements themselves,
ads must invent other advantages the right menstrual product can
deliver. Apparently, heterosexual love is one such advantage.
One ad for Always pads shows an anime-style cartoon of two girls
at a dance looking at a (completely oblivious) boy. The text
reads, “Spring dance. And you have your period. The good news
is, your hormones make you feel more attracted to the caring, sensitive
types. So there’s no better time to check him out! And with Always,
leaks won’t hold you back. Always Thin Ultra with Gel Core absorbs
better than the next leading ultra by locking liquid away. Now,
how about that cutie over there?” (ELLEgirl February/March
137). The purported advantage of the pad becomes, then, a
girl’s freedom from worrying that the sudden appearance of menstrual
blood will make a cute boy dislike her.
Another
Always advertisement shows a cartoon of a team of girls about to
score a goal in a soccer game. The text reads, “Exercise, like soccer,
can relieve period symptoms and reduce cramps. What better reason
is there to get moving! And leaks? What about ‘em? Always Thin Ultra
wings are twice as long for better side protection against leaks
than other ultras. So, you can sweat your workout, not your protection”
(Twist April 27, Cosmogirl May 129). Again,
no specific mention of menstrual blood is made, and the ad does
not show the how product is used. Instead, it explains the
supposed effect of wearing the pad – scoring a goal in a soccer
game without worrying about blood leaking. Obviously, I am
not trying to imply that women should be comfortable enough with
our menstrual blood to want to show it publicly.4
I am trying to point out, however, that these ads exacerbate our
cultural phobia of menstrual blood to the point where the ads avoid
even mentioning it. They euphemistically refer, instead, to
“leaks” and “liquid.” Leaks from where? What type of liquid? And
why do they avoid the color red so assiduously?
Menstrual
products that have nothing to do with blood and tissue collection
have less of a problem with the color red, though they continue
to emphasize the ways they help girls conceal their periods. The
mainstream media never actually depicts women experiencing the adverse
effects of menstruation, such as cramps or nausea. Instead, “menstruating
women are depicted as functioning at optimal activity level and
uncomplaining, which means girls and women who do experience discomfort
may believe that their reactions are unusual” (Ponton 40). To avoid
being “unusual,” then, girls will purchase products that promise
this “normality.” ThermaCare, a brand of disposable heating pads
girls and women wear over their lower abdomen to help with cramps,
ran two ads in the magazines in this study. Both emphasize
the freedom of movement and “normalcy” the product offers. The first
ad shows a tennis court with two women’s bathroom signs superimposed
over it. On one, the “woman” symbol, dressed for tennis, has
large red lightening bolts and the red word “cramps!” coming out
of her abdomen. The other sign also has a woman symbol dressed for
tennis on it, but this symbol is wearing a ThermaCare pad and swinging
her tennis racquet (Teen People May 93, Cosmogirl
May 133). The second ThermaCare ad makes its point more directly.
The whole page is a red field, with “Guys get to live without cramps.
Now we can, too” written over it in white. Below this, in
smaller letters, it says “Slim, snug, comfy. The only one who knows
you’re wearing it is you” (Twist April 99, Cosmogirl
April 107). It is interesting that all of these ads include
some fairly standard “girl-power” messages: it is good for girls
to be athletically involved, and it is unfair for girls to have
disadvantages that boys do not have. They also reinforce,
though, the “naturalness” and desirability of concealing all evidence
of periods: no one knows you are wearing it. Girls
want to get rid of cramps not only to be more active, according
to these ads, but also to avoid having to make excuses for missing
activities, or worse, admitting in public that they are on their
periods. Luckily, these products can provide the “normalcy” girls
so desire.
Magazines
leave girls with the notion that commercially available disposable
menstrual products are their only “suitable” choices. Other products
may be available, but they do not guarantee the level of cultural
acceptance inherent in disposable products. Entering womanhood,
according to these sources, requires consuming certain, specific
constellations of products to be acceptable.5 Advertisements
are only one place girls get this message; it is constantly reinforced
throughout mainstream culture.
Magazines
promote the use of disposable menstrual products through the inclusion
of advertisements. Body guides promote the use of disposable products
by demonstrating how to use them, and not demonstrating how to use
non-disposable methods. In her body guide, titled Growing Up:
It’s a Girl Thing, Mavis Jukes introduces pads by saying that
they are designed to stay on “when we walk, run, play sports, climb
on the monkey bars, and generally go about our daily lives” (46).
Several guides introduce tampons as a method that many women prefer
because they are not as noticeable as pads, and go on to remark
that tampons take practice to learn how to use, but that the practice
is worth the effort (Blackstone and Guest 75. Gravelle 47, Jukes
Growing Up 55). Valorie Lee Schaefer’s The Care and Keeping
of You, published under the non-fiction arm of the wildly popular
American Girl collection and perhaps the most popular body
guide available today,6 states bluntly that “Deciding
which ‘feminine hygiene’ products to use can seem overwhelming at
first, but your choices are actually pretty simple: pads
or tampons” (Schaefer 72, emphasis in the original).
Along with being the most popular body guide, The Care and Keeping
of You is also the most conservative of the guides included
in this study (which may account for its popularity). According
to this guide, only disposable methods are acceptable. Echoing
the advice offered in the Tampax-owned website beinggirl.com,
Schafer advises girls to wear panty liners along with tampons, and
states that “It’s a good idea to wear a panty liner for a day or
two even after you think your period is over” (Schaefer 74).
Advice like this connects menstrual products with girls’ everyday
lives, serving to normalize the products into something that girls
buy as a matter of course.
Embarrassing
Stories
Another
way body guides reinforce this message is through the use of embarrassing
stories. The authors of body guides recall embarrassing moments
to stress their commonality with their readers, thus making their
texts more “trustworthy,” and use this trust to remind readers that
their bodies require constant vigilance.
In
the guide Girl Stuff, authors Margaret Blackstone and Elissa
Guest begin their book with a list of what they call “cringe words,”
or words that they found utterly embarrassing as pre-teens.
They also include how they defined these words when younger: “Menstruation:
Sounded like a fatal disease. […] Puberty: Something wet and slimy,
a creepy alien blob. […] ‘That Time of the Month’: (sic) As if suddenly
you had changed” (Blackstone and Guest 1). In her guide, It’s
a Girl Thing, Mavis Jukes includes the story of a friend of
hers whose falsies fell out of her bathing suit top in a public
pool (8). Finally, almost every guide includes stories of
girls’ clothing getting stained with menstrual blood in public.
Ponton
points out that, because of cultural taboos surrounding menstruation,
“little sharing of information with friends seems to take place
after the initiation of menstruation, although at later points friends
share stories about symptoms and negative attitudes” (Ponton 41).
When relaying the negative effects of menstruation, then, the cultural
silence around menstruation is lessened. While these negative
effects are certainly real and must be dealt with, nowhere within
magazines did I find any discussion of the positive effects of menstruation,
such as feeling proud or powerful, or even the general sense of
well-being some girls and women experience while they are premenstrual.
It seems that, as long as girls are complaining about menstruation
– one of the most important markers of becoming biologically female
– they are allowed to discuss it. Positive statements about menstruation,
however, are still suspect. This could contribute to the fact that,
while “many girls are extremely positive about the anticipation
of their menses,” girls feel far less positive about their periods
once they arrive (Ponton 40). Brumberg argues that girls discuss
menstruation in this way because they are using the only language
available to them. While she admits that “these stories of embarrassing
personal moments were honest and funny,” she also notes that “they
all focused on issues of personal hygiene because that is the language
we use in America for talking about such things” (Brumberg 52).
Girls do not share their inner feelings about menstruation, whether
they are positive or negative, because they do not know how.
Embarrassing
stories ring true because, even though the products recommended
in body guides and magazines “protect” girls and their clothes from
menstrual blood, this protection is not as perfect as we could wish.
In her guide called Growing Up: It’s a Girl Thing, Jukes
states that, “many girls and women choose not to wear their best
underwear during a period” because of leaks (50), and all of the
books suggest that it might be a good idea to keep a dark sweater
around to tie around the waist if blood gets onto a girl’s clothes.7
Girls learn that hiding their menstrual blood is so important that
they must keep backup methods on hand at all times. They must
do so because they live within institutions that will not change
to accommodate their needs. In her book, The Woman in the Body,
Emily Martin writes that “the woman trying to sneak a tampon from
the classroom into the bathroom” is “being asked to do the impossible:
conceal and control their bodily functions in institutions whose
organization of time and space take little cognizance of them” (94).
Girls are embarrassed when they bring attention to their menstrual
cycles in public because most public institutions – institutions
that have been created by and for the bodies of men (boys) – will
not admit that the bodies of women (girls) exist. If they
did, for example, girls would not have to justify to their teachers
why they need unscheduled bathroom breaks. Most girls do not recognize
this, though, because it has been presented to them as normal (Martin
99).
Menstruation
and Filth: Kristeva
Self
surveillance becomes especially important for the body because,
with the onset of puberty, girls’ bodies become associated with
(or soon will be associated with) reproductive functions. One of
society’s jobs is to control the reproductive functions of young
women, as witnessed by the public outcry over teenaged mothers.8
Anita Harris, author of Future Girl, locates this anxiety
in economics. Girls today are expected to achieve both “labor market
accomplishments and a glamorous consumer lifestyle,” and both of
these “are premised on the idea of an unencumbered individual who
can devote herself to full-time paid work. An intrinsic element
of the can-do experience is thus the delaying of motherhood” (Harris
23). Because of this, “the families of you women who are high-achieving
[…] tend to be committed to the regulation of their daughters’ sexuality”
(Harris 23). Girls who delay motherhood contribute economically
through the purchase of consumer goods. Girls who do not are warned
that they will inevitably become economic drains, the stereotypical
“welfare mothers” whom society only devalues.
Beyond
their sexualized meanings, female bodies with the power to reproduce
also have the potential to break down social codes in frightening
ways. Julia Kristeva, in The Powers of Horror, describes
this potential. She calls the logical extreme of this potential
the “abject,” or that which is neither subject nor object.
She writes, “It is thus not lack of cleanliness or health that causes
abjection but what disturbs identity, system, order. What does not
respect borders, positions, rules. The in-between, the ambiguous,
the composite” (Kristeva 4). Our objections to showing or
mentioning anything related to menstruation in public goes beyond
the physical dirtiness of menstrual blood. We only call menstrual
blood filthy because it threatens abjection, and people are urged
by society to hide and devalue it. But not all “filth” is
equivalent, though. As Kristeva says, “Filth is not a quality
in itself, but it applies only to what relates to a boundary
and, more particularly, represents the object jettisoned out of
that boundary, its other side, a margin” (69). Girls are urged to
hide their bodies’ excremental functions for the same reason that
boys are, but they hide their menstrual and reproductive functions
for far different reasons:
Polluting
objects fall, schematically, into two types: excremental and
menstrual. Neither tears nor sperm, for instance, […] have any
polluting value. Excrement and its equivalents (decay, infection,
disease, corpse, etc.) stand for the danger to identity that
comes from without: the ego threatened by the non-ego, society
threatened by its outside, life by death. Menstrual blood, on
the contrary, stands for the danger issuing from within the
identity (social or sexual); it threatens the relationships
between the sexes within a social aggregate and, through internalization,
the identity of each sex in the face of sexual difference (Kristeva
71).
Menstruation
threatens to upset both the boundaries between internal and external
(what was once inside of my body is outside of it – and I am ok)
and self and other (the potential to have a life within the female
body which then moves outside of the female body and into its own
subjectivity). Once these boundaries of identity are threatened,
no boundary is safe because all have been marked as permeable. To
prevent this from happening, we reject that which threatens the
boundary. As Butler states, “the boundary of the body as well as
the distinction between internal and external is established through
the ejection and transvaluation of something originally part of
identity into a defiling otherness” (Butler 133). We put such tremendous
energy into maintaining these boundaries because “What constitutes
through division the ‘inner’ and ‘outer’ worlds of the subject is
a border and boundary tenuously maintained for the purposes of social
regulation and control” (Butler 133).
Girls
hide their menstrual cycles to reinforce the boundaries between
the masculine and the feminine and, in so doing, patriarchal hegemony
(Kristeva 70). Menstrual blood is disgusting because of its
tie to the feminine, which is socially devalued in favor of the
masculine, and because of its potential power to disrupt. To make
up for this, girls are supposed to hide the (disgusting) fact that
they menstruate. This need for concealment goes beyond just hiding
menstrual blood, however, and extends to everything connected –
in any way – to menstruation. A significant part of this,
to girls, is to hide any potential smell caused by menstrual blood.
As Karen Gravelle’s body guide The Period Book repeatedly
states, a girl needs to change her pad frequently “even if they
aren’t in danger of soaking through,” to avoid the “obnoxious odor
announcing to everyone that they’re having their period!” (49, 52-3).
As I stated above, advertisements point out the need to hide the
cramps as a symptom of menstruation. The need to hide menstruation,
together with the capitalist need for endless consumption, leads
to the “natural” notion that cleanliness and social acceptability
requires that women buy disposable menstrual products. Kristeva
calls this the “mapping of the self’s clean and proper body” (72),
and girls learn this early.
The
Unruly Body: Rowe and Butler
Kathleen
Rowe, author of The Unruly Woman, believes many taboos are
tied to the female body because of the belief that its reproductive
functions could become “unruly.” As she states, “The identification
of women with reproduction has rarely worked to their advantage”
(Rowe 34). The ability to reproduce is seen as powerful and potentially
overwhelming and frightening. All too easily, women could realize
this power and become what Rowe calls “unruly women” who create
“disorder by dominating, or trying to dominate, men,” allowing their
bodies to become “excessive or fat, suggesting (their) unwillingness
or inability to control physical appetites” or speaking excessively
and loudly (31). Rowe differentiates between this unruly,
or “grotesque” body and the classical, or “bourgeois” body, writing
that “Ideology holds that the ‘well-adjusted’ woman has what Helene
Cixous has described as ‘divine composure.’ She is silent, static,
invisible – ‘composed’ and ‘divinely’ apart from the hurly-burly
of life, process, and social power” (Rowe 31). The “well-adjusted”
woman must have the classical body which conceals the processes
that the grotesque body revels in and reveals (Rowe 33). Rowe echoes
Kristeva’s language about the borders of the internal and external
when she states, “The grotesque body is above all the female body,
the maternal body, which, through menstruation, pregnancy,
childbirth, and lactation, participates uniquely in the carnivalesque
drama of ‘becoming,’ of inside-out and outside-in, death-in-life
and life-in-death” (34, emphasis in original). Finally, the unruly
woman is “associated with dirt, liminality (thresholds, borders,
or margins), and taboo, rendering her above all a figure of ambivalence”
(Rowe 31). Where the classical, static body can be categorized instantly,
the unruly, changeable body cannot.
Judith
Butler takes Kristeva’s and Rowe’s arguments one step further, explaining
that social groups reinforce the differences between the internal
and external which menstruation threatens “through the ejection
and transvaluation of something originally part of identity into
a defiling otherness” (134). The menstrual blood that was once part
of the girl now becomes something dirty and “gross,” something girls
must deny was ever part of them. This denial happens:
for
the purposes of social regulation and control. The boundary between
the inner and outer is confounded by those excremental passages
in which the inner effectively becomes outer, and this excreting
function becomes, as it were, the model by which other forms of
identity-differentiation are accomplished. In effect, this is
the mode by which Others become shit (Butler 134-5).
Just
as girls must deny that the menstrual blood was ever a part of them,9
they also learn to exclude people who cannot or will not function
within society’s limits. The power of embarrassing stories
in guides is to remind girls that, if they cannot (or will not)
control their bodies, they can be socially excluded. Further,
it teaches girls that they must – to remain acceptable – exclude
others deemed unacceptable. Girls are not only regulated by how
they behave, but the behaviors they accept in others. This social
control extends to every area of a girl’s life, including regulating
her body, her actions and her sexuality, but, in many ways, it begins
with menstruation.
Menstruation
and Ambivalence
We do not only
view menstruation as filth, however. Part of what makes the “filthiness”
of menstruation necessary is its potential power to create life,
a part of traditional femininity that has been as valorized as it
has been feared. Both the magazines and the body guides included
in this study at least make motions towards trying to end the traditional
connection of menstruation and filth, but in the end, they continue
to view menstruation ambivalently. In the introduction to
her book, The What’s Happening to My Body? Book for Girls,
Lynda Madaras tells parents that they need to examine their internalized
ideas about the grossness of menstruation, so that they do not accidentally
pass on these ideas to their children. She advises parents,
especially mothers, to be honest about how they were brought up
to think about their periods so that they do not confuse their daughters
when they send out conflicting messages. Madaras writes:
Even
if we are conscious of [internalized uneasiness about menstruation]
and decide that it is time that this deplorable situation was
dealt with, the taboos and our cultural embarrassment about menstruation
may still take their toll. Wanting our daughters to have a positive
view of their natural bodily functions, particularly if we have
suffered in this area, we summon up our courage and carefully
rehearse the proper lines. Intent upon improving the script our
mothers wrote for us, we boldly announce to our daughters: “Menstruation
Is a Wonderful Part of Being a Woman, a Unique Ability of Which
You Should Be Proud.” At the same time, none of us would think
of hiding our toothbrushes under the sink or in the back corners
of the bathroom cupboard, yet it is rare to find a box of sanitary
napkins prominently displayed (xxiv).
Most
of the body guides and magazines try to break the connection between
menstruation and filth by stressing its normalcy, both by saying
that every girl gets her period10 and that every girl’s
body has its own timetable for menstrual events. Statements
such as, “You may have your first period at any time between the
ages of eight and seventeen, and whatever age you are, that’s what
is normal for you” (Blackstone and Guest 69, 71) or “Each
girl’s body develops according to her own special timetable. That
means that each of us begins to menstruate when the time is right
– for us” (Jukes Growing Up 43) are fairly common. Ponton
also notes that it is important to point out the large range of
what constitutes “normality” to adolescents and pre-adolescents,
because one overriding anxiety within adolescence is the fear that
one is not “normal” (144). Another
way guides attempt to reassure girls about the normality of their
experience is suggesting that they talk to friends and family members.
Jukes repeatedly suggests that girls talk to a trusted friend or
adult about how they feel about menstruation because, “sharing feelings
with those we trust can be very comforting” (Jukes Growing Up
7). Jukes wants to end the silence around menstruation, and
reminds her readers that “just because something’s private doesn’t
mean it’s secret. It’s reassuring to talk and think and read about
things to do with growing up” (Growing Up 4). Madaras emphasizes
the importance of discussing a girl’s period with her father or
other trusted male relative. Madaras urges her readers not to “write
your dad off just because he’s a man. Guys know about these things,
too” (Madaras What’s Happening? 164). Ponton believes
that simply ending the silence around menstruation would help girls
(and boys). She states that “potentially the introduction of this
important topic to both boys and girls offers an opportunity to
introduce positive elements and to erase secrecy, a process that
has not yet happened” (Ponton 42). Ending this secrecy is important
because “both silence and ‘taboos’ dim our understanding of the
important subject of menarche. The lack of light on this topic is
reflected further in our overall understanding of the entire process
of menstruation, not just the first step” (Ponton 43).
Medical
Metaphors of Menstruation: Martin
Body
guides don’t stop at suggesting that girls talk about menstruation
with those they trust. These books also give girls basic anatomical
information about their bodies and descriptions of how menstruation
works. Even though body guide authors include this information to
help empower girls, they need to be careful with the type of language
they use to describe menstruation. No matter how much the authors
may want to empower girls information, they can sabotage their goals
through the words they use. In her book The Woman in the
Body, Martin examines the language medical and biology textbooks
use to describe menstruation, and finds that most medical models
of menstruation begin with the metaphor of the body as factory.
Like a factory, the body’s goal is to be efficient and productive.
For women, this goal includes the production of children (Martin
37). Because of this, the female reproductive system “is seen
as organized for a single preeminent purpose: ‘transport’ of the
egg along its journey from the ovary to the uterus and preparation
of an appropriate place for the egg to grow if it is fertilized”
(Martin 44). With pregnancy as the only goal of a woman’s reproductive
system, “it should be no surprise that when a fertilized egg does
not implant, [medical texts] describe the next event in very negative
terms” (Martin 45). She continues,
The
fall in blood progesterone and estrogen “deprives” the “highly
developed endometrial lining of its hormonal support,” “constriction”
of blood vessels leads to a “diminished” supply of oxygen and
nutrients, and finally “disintegration starts, the entire lining
begins to slough, and the menstrual flow begins.” Blood vessels
in the endometrium “hemorrhage” and the menstrual flow “consists
of this blood mixed with endometrial debris.” The “loss” of
hormonal stimulation causes “necrosis” (death of tissue) (Martin
45).
Martin
believes these medical models are so formational because it is “a
cultural system whose ideas and practices pervade popular culture
and in which, therefore, we all participate to some degree” (Martin
13). The
medical model of “seeing menstruation as failed production contribute[s]
to our negative view of it” (Martin 45). Taking the metaphor of
the factory to its logical conclusion, menstrual blood is a useless
product, “unsalable, wasted, scrap” (Martin 46). Menstruation becomes
a (subconscious) monthly reminder of failure – no wonder some girls
and women dread it! Martin further adds that, one of the reasons
this model may be so negative is that “women are in some sinister
sense out of control when they menstruate. They are not reproducing,
not continuing the species, not preparing to stay at home with the
baby, not providing a safe, warm womb to nurture a man’s sperm”
(47).
As
I stated above, body guides spend a great deal of time explaining
menstruation to their readers. Although it is obvious that
they are trying to describe menstruation in neutral or positive
terms, they often fall into the failed production metaphor, an odd
rhetorical device to use when writing for young girls. In
Jukes’ book Growing Up: It’s a Girl Thing, she talks about
menstruation in fairly neutral terms. She writes, “About once
a month an egg will pop out of an ovary, be caught and swept into
a Fallopian tube, and will tumble down into her uterus. Since the
egg will not be fertilized, the uterus will shed its lining … and
this will happen month after month … and year after year until she
grows into a woman” (Growing Up 43). In this, Jukes sees
menstruation, not pregnancy, as the logical and hoped for conclusion
of the reproductive cycle. Jukes also stresses that, “A girl’s
reproductive system begins to work years before she is actually
ready to be a mom” (Growing Up 32, emphasis in original).
In her book for slightly older girls, called It’s a Girl Thing:
How to Stay Healthy, Safe and in Charge, Jukes changes her language,
though. She writes, “Once a girl goes through puberty, her
uterus makes a special lining of bloody tissue every month to prepare
for a possible pregnancy. […] If a woman or girl isn’t pregnant,
the lining of her uterus isn’t needed to nourish an embryo, and
the lining is released” (Jukes Girl Thing 15). She continues,
“If the egg isn’t fertilized, it disintegrates when it reaches the
uterus” (Jukes Girl Thing 17). In this selection, Jukes language
conforms closely to the language mentioned by Martin.
Margaret
Blackstone and Elissa Haden Guest’s Girl Stuff: a Survival Guide
to Growing Up follows much of the same pattern. They begin
by mentioning that, “from when you are about eight or even younger,
your body starts getting ready for the time you will be able to
reproduce or have a baby” (Blackstone and Guest 61). Although Blackstone
and Guest are careful to point out that “this does not mean there’s
a rule that says you must have a baby one day; it only means
that your body is getting ready should you decide to do so” (Blackstone
and Guest 61), they follow with the odd suggestion that the girl
“picture the inside of your body just prior to puberty as a darkened
room” that is designed to hold a baby (Blackstone and Guest 61).
Blackstone and Guest continue their mixed message throughout.
They follow the factory metaphor by mentioning that “when a girl
ovulates (releases an egg), her uterus has been busy building up
a thick lining of blood and tissue, which would become home to an
egg if it were fertilized by a sperm. Most of the time the egg isn’t
fertilized, so this rich nutrient-filled lining is not needed. So,
the lining begins to break down and drip out of the vagina” (Blackstone
and Guest 65). Then they follow by stating that, “menstruation
is a cleansing process for your uterus” (Blackstone and Guest 65).
The authors cannot decide if menstruation is the failure of the
body to become pregnant or a routine “cleansing process.”
The
Care and Keeping of You also views menstruation ambiguously.
Unable to decide if “periods are a sign that your body is healthy
and working properly” (Shaefer 70), or merely the result of a failure
to become pregnant, the guide uses much of the language of the failed
production model. Schafer writes that when young girls menstruate,
their bodies are “preparing to do the grown-up work of having a
baby someday. Every month your body practices for this by building
a ‘nest,’ a place for a baby to grow inside your uterus. The nest
is a lining of blood and other fluid that builds up on the uterus
walls” (70). When a girl does not become pregnant, “the lining is
shed and you have a period” (Schaefer 70).Lynda Madaras, in her
book My Body, Myself for Girls, provides the most neutral
description of menstruation, though she still slips into the failed
production metaphor at times. Madaras begins her discussion of menstruation
by stating,
Of
course, you’re not ready to be a parent yet and probably won’t
be for some years. Even when you are ready, it’s unlikely that
you’ll want to keep having children one right after the other.
You won’t be trying to get pregnant each and every month! Nonetheless,
the monthly cycle of changes that prepare your body for pregnancy
is repeated over and over again, month after month, throughout
a woman’s reproductive years, so your body will be ready if
and when you decide to have a baby (Body 7).
In
this, then, Madaras describes menstruation as a process of preparation,
but a process that does not necessarily have an end goal. Later,
though, Madaras still manages to fall into the same trap mentioned
by Martin. She writes:
Most
of the time the woman’s ovum is not fertilized and she does not
become pregnant. So, about two weeks after ovulation, the newly
grown portion of the uterine lining begins to break down. The
tissues of the lining disintegrate, and pieces of the lining collect
in the bottom of the uterus. This collection of blood and tissue
is known as the menstrual flow, menstrual blood or menstrual discharge
(Madaras Body 78).
Throughout,
the body guides use words like “break down” and “disintegrate,”
both negatively-charged terms that tend to equate menstruation
with the failure to reproduce. According to Martin, the failed
production metaphor reinforces both capitalism (via the need
to produce constantly) and the patriarchy (via the need to control
women’s bodies). Otherwise, the metaphor would not have such
power in a society in which most women strive to avoid pregnancy
most of the time. Because of this, Brumberg stresses the
need to question the type of information given to girls about
their bodies. She writes that “the long-term consequences of
demystifying the process of menstruation […] are not entirely
benign” (52). Instead of giving girls information about their
bodies, we give them information about the relationship of hygiene
and consumerism.
To
compete with this model, Martin would like us to think of the
menstrual cycle as just that: a cycle of events whose purpose
is to induce menstruation. The language introducing such
a perspective could read like this:
A
drop in the formerly high levels of progesterone and estrogen
creates the appropriate environment for reducing the excess
layers of endometrial tissue. Constriction of capillary blood
vessels causes a lower level of oxygen and nutrients and paves
the way for a vigorous production of menstrual fluids. As
a part of the renewal of the remaining endometrium, the capillaries
begin to reopen, contributing some blood and serous fluid
to the volume of endometrial material already beginning to
flow (Martin 52).
Rather
than looking at pregnancy as the hoped-for goal of the cycle,
and menstruation as something that thwarts that goal, authors
could write about menstruation as the usually hoped-for goal and
pregnancy as something that may block menstruation from occurring.
It would seem more logical for body guides aimed at pre-teen girls
to write about menstruation in this way rather than using the
failed production metaphor, especially because all of the authors
agree that their readers should avoid pregnancy until they are
“grown up.” Authors’ use of the failed production metaphor serves
to reflect society’s ambivalence towards the reproductive potential
of young girls. While society fears the “menace” that is
teen pregnancy, it also fears a potentially reproductive female
who chooses, whether by being celibate or through the use of birth
control, to opt out of the production of offspring.
You’re
Still a Kid…
Menarche’s
connection to girls’ reproductive functions may be the greatest
source of our cultural anxieties about menstruation. Children
and adults both worry about the onset of menstruation because
it means that, at least physically, girls have reached sexual
maturity. Girls and adults share the same fears about menstruation:
that it means that girls will have to start acting like grown-up
women. The body guide authors address both fears. Schafer tells
her readers that “there’s a lot more to being an adult than getting
your period and growing breasts” (81). Blackstone and Guest state,
“When you start your period, will everything change? No. Will
some things change? Yes. You’ll have new things to pay attention
to. But the sooner you say, ‘Hey, this is my period and that’s
the way it’s going to be,’ the better for you” (82). Madaras
quotes a fifteen-year-old girl named Janelle, who said, “I was
afraid I was going to have to be all grown up and wear high heels
all the time instead of being a tomboy and climbing trees, but,
really, it turned out that I did just the same things I always
did” (What’s Happening? 59). Jukes makes the most extensive
statements on this subject, repeating throughout her book that
puberty does not mean girls achieve instant womanhood. She
begins her introduction with “No matter when a girl begins to
go through puberty, she will still be a kid. Having breasts and
hair in private places and having a period won’t change that.
She will not be a woman for a very, very long time.
She will not be expected to act like a grownup and will not be
treated like one” (Jukes Growing Up vi). She ends
with a statement echoing the one from her introduction, that
Beginning
to have periods is a big step toward becoming an adult woman,
but only so far as the body is concerned. When a girl starts
her period, someone might tell her, ‘You’re a woman now!’
But she isn’t really. And she won’t be for a long time. A
girl stays a kid the whole way through puberty and past it.
[…] She’ll still be a kid, entitled to the love, care and
protection of the adults around her (Jukes Growing Up
69).
Clearly,
these authors worry – and assume their readers also worry – about
connecting the onset of menstruation with immediate entry into
adulthood, and for good reason. One
way to disconnect menses from being completely “grown up” and
also make girls feel more positive about their menstrual cycles
could be to turn menarche into a rite of passage. Companies
that produce menstrual “learning kits,” such as, Tampax, hope
to make buying their first box of tampons into a commercial rite
of passage for girls, one that solidifies the relationship between
menstruation, filth and consumption. Obviously, then, not all
rites of passage are made equal. What’s Happening to My Body?
and Girl Stuff also suggest that girls make their first
period into a rite of passage, but these rites take a far different
form. Blackstone and Guest do not give girls a specific form for
their rite of passage to take, but they do state that some girls
enjoy celebrating “with their families and friends when they get
their periods for the first time” (82).
These
authors feel the need to add, though, that “on the other hand,
you may feel very private about it and decide you don’t want to
tell anyone but your mother or father” (Blackstone and Guest 83).
Madaras is more insistent that the onset of menstruation deserves
a celebration. She writes that, in India, girls get a party
where they wear a crown, sit on a type of throne and receive gifts.
While she doubts that most parents would go along with this, she
suggests that girls “invent a special moonlight ceremony, have
a slumber party with all your female friends, or be given a ring
or special gift to be passed on to the next generation. It could
be anything” (Madaras What’s Happening? 165). Her rite
of passage focuses less on becoming a consumer and more on making
a girl’s first period a celebratory experience. Ponton also believes
that menstrual rites of passage are important, not only to make
girls feel more positive about starting their periods, but also
about themselves in general. She states, “I believe that younger
teens feel betrayed by [the] lack of attention, even neglect,
for their developmental milestones, and have slowly but surely
developed their own initiation rites. Among these, the onset of
sexual activity is the most obvious” (Ponton 42). When society
does not sanction rites of passage for children, then, they develop
their own. These rites may not be healthy or desirable
Conclusion
Menstruation’s
connection with filth and shame is perpetuated through our culture’s
continued silence about it. At the moment, menstruation is almost
completely erased in television shows and films aimed at tweens.
Unfortunately, one can certainly not imagine the heroines of Disney’s
Lizzie McGuire or That’s So Raven discussing their
protagonists’ entry into womanhood. As Currie states, “For cultural
studies to be truly critical, it must show how the ideology of
commercial culture is constitutive of everyday relations, including
gendered relations of domination and subordination” (142).
Women’s everyday practice of concealing menstruation begins even
before our cycles start, and continues throughout our fertile
years. (One could even argue that much of the discourse
surrounding menopause concerns the concealment of that phase of
life as well.) Girls learn mixed messages about menstruation from
their families and friends, from body guides and magazines, and
practice these attitudes by both “protecting” themselves and others
from their periods with menstrual products and (perhaps) celebrating
their periods as wonderful, natural events. Learning to
contain periods in acceptable ways through consuming disposable
products becomes one early, important step in teaching girls how
to contain their entire bodies through the practice of consumption,
and conform, to some extent, to the “classical” body ideal. In
other words, the way we feel about menstruation is one of the
foundations of the way we feel about our bodies in general. Interrogating
this learning process can begin the process of changing the messages
girls internalize about their bodies. Before we can help
girls (and women) feel better about their bodies as a whole, we
need to help them find more constructive ways to think about menstruation.
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Cited
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Meredith Guthrie received her Ph.D. in American
Culture Studies from Bowling Green State University in 2005.
This paper came from research conducted for her dissertation,
"Somewhere In-Between: Tween Queens and the Marketing Machine."
She is currently a lecturer in Communication at the University
of Pittsburgh where she teaches undergraduate media studies
classes.
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