Since 2014, May 28 has been observed globally as Menstrual Hygiene Day, drawing attention to the importance of menstrual health and hygiene. The occasion is marked by awareness campaigns and pad distribution drives. But for millions of menstruating people across India, this day passes like any other — shrouded in silence, discomfort, and exclusion. While public conversations on menstruation have increased, they are only one piece of a much larger puzzle.
India has around 355 million menstruating women and girls. According to the fifth round of the National Family Health Survey (NFHS-5), nearly 77% of young women aged 15 to 24 use hygienic methods such as sanitary napkins or menstrual cups. However, this figure drops to 64% in rural areas and remains significantly lower among the Scheduled Castes, Scheduled Tribes, and poorest households. These numbers mask a deeper crisis of access, dignity, and education. Period poverty is not just about lack of products — it reflects the social structures that determine who gets to negotiate menstruation safely and who does not.
In 2018, only 18% of schools in India had basic sanitation facilities that included covered bins and functional incinerators for menstrual waste. The numbers were better in girls-only secondary schools, but most co-educational and primary schools lacked these essential services. As a result, many girls miss school during their periods, and some drop out entirely. This is not a private inconvenience — it is a public failure that affects education, health, and future opportunities for economic participation, perpetuating gender inequality.
Stigma, injustice
Cultural stigma only deepens the injustice. Many girls are never told about menstruation before their first period, often making it a traumatic experience. They are taught to keep quiet, to stay out of kitchens and temples, and to feel ashamed of their bodies. The idea that menstruation is impure echoes the caste-based notion of pollution. In both, the body is seen as contaminating and is controlled through exclusion. Dalit women have long been treated as impure; menstruating girls are similarly isolated. This link between purity and exclusion is not coincidental — it is a powerful tool of oppression.
There is also a striking hypocrisy in how we view menstruation and reproduction. We revere motherhood, yet we shame menstruation —the very process that makes motherhood possible. Girls are expected to feel pride in becoming women, but also to hide the signs of that transition. We speak of “nari shakti” while creating conditions causing young women to miss school for something as biological as a period. This contradiction speaks to a deeper discomfort with female autonomy and the cycles of their bodies.
Despite increasing attention, most policy responses remain limited to product distribution. Free pads handed out by NGOs or government schemes are valuable, but they risk framing menstruating girls and women as passive recipients of charity rather than rights-holding citizens. These are temporary fixes, not systemic solutions. In districts such as Nawada and Darbhanga in Bihar, adolescent-led groups of girls called “Kishori Samooh”, supported by the Population Foundation of India, have created over 50 sanitary pad banks, ensuring girls never have to miss school or suffer indignity because they cannot afford menstrual products. We must move from relief to responsibility—from one-time drives to sustained investment in menstrual health infrastructure and education.
Layers of exclusion
Menstrual justice demands that we centre the needs of the most marginalised. Dalit, Adivasi, and Muslim girls, those with disabilities, and those living in urban slums or rural hamlets often face multiple layers of exclusion. In these communities, menstruation becomes a source of crisis and shame. Schools lack separate toilets, homes lack privacy, and health workers are rarely trained to provide support. If we fail to address these realities, we deepen inequality.
Menstrual health must be integrated into national education, health, and gender equality programmes. This means ensuring functional toilets, access to water, disposal systems, and menstrual education in every school and public institution. It also means recognising that not all menstruating people are women. Trans and non-binary individuals are routinely left out of this conversation and face even greater stigma and exclusion.
We must also confront how market forces have shaped this landscape. Menstruation has been commodified — pads are advertised with euphemisms and shame, and sold at prices many cannot afford. The private sector must be regulated to ensure affordability, quality, and dignity, rather than treating menstruation only as a profit-making opportunity.
It’s time to act
To normalise menstruation by 2030, as this year’s Menstrual Hygiene Day theme urges, we need to do more than talk — we must act. Conversations about menstruation should start at home and in classrooms, with mothers, teachers, and boys included. Frontline health workers and community leaders must be trained not just to distribute pads, but to break stigma. And data must guide action — using tools such as the NFHS and school sanitation audits to measure progress and hold systems accountable. Data sources such as the NFHS and school sanitation audits must be used to measure progress and guide action.
Menstruation is not a curse. It is the neglect, stigma, and silence that surround menstruation that are cursed. We must stop treating menstruating people as burdens, and start treating menstrual equity as a public mandate. Because a just society does not punish its daughters for bleeding. It builds a world where they can thrive.
(Poonam Muttreja is the Executive Director of the Population Foundation of India; views are personal)
Published – May 28, 2025 04:50 pm IST