I used to hate hearing it. “She’s on her period.” It irritated me. The drama. The mood swings. The sudden bursts of tears. One moment she’s fine, the next she’s locked in a room crying or snapping at you. It never made sense. In secondary school and even in university, I wondered why some girls would suddenly not show up for class or complain to lecturers for being marked absent. At work, I’d roll my eyes when a female colleague would text, “I won’t be coming in today. Cramps.” Cramps? You’d think someone was dying. In my head, I called it an excuse, until reality slapped me differently. Forgive me. I was naive.
It wasn’t until I had a long, honest conversation with a lady I respected that I started to understand how deep this struggle runs. She told me she takes three injections every month just to make it through her period, not because she wants to, but because the pain is that unbearable. I was speechless. She described the cramps as feeling like her uterus was being wrung out like wet cloth, like something inside her was trying to claw its way out. That was when I first heard the comparison, menstrual cramps can be as painful as early labour contractions. And in some cases, the pain even mimics that of childbirth. From that moment on, my perspective changed.
I started noticing the small things. The way a colleague would hold her lower stomach under the table. The way another would disappear into the restroom, only to return with a pale face, barely able to sit up straight. The emotional rollercoaster, the physical drain, the irritability that isn’t a choice but a product of fluctuating hormones and fatigue. These were not “dramas,” they were genuine physiological responses, to bleeding, to pain, to imbalance, to discomfort.
But the deeper I looked, the more I realized that beyond the physical pain, there was social pain, cultural discrimination, and economic injustice attached to menstruation.
In many African societies, menstruation is seen as unclean, taboo, and something to be hidden. In parts of India and Nepal, girls on their periods are forbidden from entering temples, kitchens, or even sleeping in the same room with family members. In Uganda, girls miss school every month because they either don’t have access to menstrual products or are ashamed due to cultural stigma. A UNESCO report found that 1 in 10 African girls miss school during their periods, which adds up to as much as 20% of a school year.
In Northern Nigeria, some religious schools teach girls not to pray, cook, or sit in the same place while menstruating. In some communities, girls are made to feel that menstruation is a punishment for Eve’s sin, a curse they must bear. Even in urban settings, where education is assumed, girls whisper about their periods like it’s a secret shame, hiding pads in sleeves, clutching their stomachs silently while pretending everything is fine.
Then there are the myths. “She can’t touch the pot.” “She must not walk barefoot, or the blood will flow more.” “She must not go near boys, or she will curse them.” “She must not bathe, or the bleeding will increase.”
These are beliefs passed down like heirlooms, wrapped in ignorance and sprinkled with fear. And they cost girls more than just dignity, they cost them education, relationships, confidence, and in some cases, their health.
Add to that the cost of menstrual products, and you start to see the full picture of “injustice”. In Nigeria, a pack of sanitary pads costs between ₦500 to ₦1,500 depending on quality and brand. In low-income households where feeding is already a struggle, menstrual hygiene becomes a luxury. This is why some girls resort to using old rags, newspapers, tissue paper, cotton wool, or even mattress foam, all of which can cause infections, odor, and embarrassment.
The statistics are heartbreaking. According to UNICEF, over 500 million women and girls globally lack access to adequate menstrual hygiene management. In Nigeria, about 25% of girls aged 10–18 miss school during their period due to lack of sanitary products and proper toilet facilities. Over 60% of women in rural areas still rely on unhygienic alternatives during menstruation.
So why should men care? Because we are brothers, friends, husbands, classmates, employers, and leaders. Because understanding builds empathy, and empathy is the first step to change.
Because when we mock, ignore, or dismiss period pain, we uphold a system that silences girls and keeps them behind. Because no girl should ever feel ashamed for something as natural as menstruation. Because our voices, especially as men can help normalize the conversation, fight the stigma, and demand change.
We should advocate for subsidized menstrual products, especially in schools and low-income communities. Free pads should not be a luxury or political promise during campaigns, they should be a public health and educational right. Just as condoms are freely distributed in universities and hospitals, so too should sanitary pads be available to every girl who needs them.
We should teach boys to understand periods, not fear them. We should teach our daughters to own their cycles with pride, and our sons to protect, not ridicule, the girls who are going through it.
In conclusion, menstruation is not drama. It’s biology. It’s pain. It’s a monthly battle that millions of girls and women face, often in silence. As men, our role is not to ridicule or retreat, it is to listen, to support, and to fight for a world where a girl doesn’t miss school because she bleeds, where a woman isn’t judged because her mood changes with her cycle, and where period shame becomes a thing of the past. We can do better.
Ogungbile Emmanuel Oludotun via thedreamchaser65@gmail.com

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