I’ll have a tampon with that kebab, thanks

As Gabrielle Jackson struggles with a Mooncup in the Middle East, she asks why she can't buy a tampon as readily as a kebab?

As I travel through kebab country there’s one non-food item I’ve become obsessed with. It’s small, made of cotton, and could be of service to around half world’s population. I’m talking, of course, about the tampon. In the Middle East and Asia tampons are almost impossible to buy, which is why I recently found myself experimenting with its futuristic cousin, the Mooncup (more on those later). As I roamed the streets of Georgia looking for someone who would sell me tampons I realised this masterful invention is every bit as important as Brent crude, and like global oil supply, tampons turn out to be every bit as political.

Before I get writing here’s a warning: I’m going to write about MENSTRUATION. It happens to 50 per cent of the population every single month and it’s essential to the human race. If I can listen to incessant chatter about jizz, then men, you can learn a little bit about menstruation.

First of all, it doesn’t go on holiday when you go on holiday. Every month there’s BLOOD. There’s blood, and lots of it. It oozes from my body and causes all sorts of bad side-effects. It’s unpleasant, uncomfortable and unavoidable. But there’s a human invention that makes it a little more bearable. It’s a piece of genius called a tampon. A tampon absorbs the blood before it leaves the body and prevents embarrassing leakages, odours and the necessity of wearing an adult nappy. To me, the tampon is one of the most important inventions of human-kind. Even when I’m travelling, it enables me go freely about my daily life.

They aren’t a new invention. Women have always known what works best for their bodies and, according to Nancy Friedman in her book Everything You Must Know About Tampons, there is evidence Egyptian women were using self-made tampons as early as the 15th century B.C. They weren’t the only ancient culture to use tampons either:

Roman women used wool tampons. Women in ancient Japan fashioned tampons out of paper, held them in place with a bandage, and changed them 10 to 12 times a day. Traditional Hawaiian women used the furry part of a native fern called hapu'u; and grasses, mosses and other plants are still used by women in parts of Asia and Africa.

Knowing this you’d think the tampon would by now be used throughout the world and easily available to all. But today, it’s estimated that only 100 million of the world’s 1.7 billion menstruating women wear tampons (Karen Houppert in The Curse: Confronting the Last Unmentionable Taboo: Menstruation). It wasn’t until recently tampons went underground. So what’s happened? Well, that’s what’s angering me as I travel through the Middle East. Tampons are not available in this part of the world mostly because it’s believed their use ‘takes a woman’s virginity’.

Now let’s be clear: there is only one way for a woman to lose her virginity and that’s through sexual intercourse. Does a man lose his virginity by wanking, or shoving his cock into a warm apple pie? No, he loses it when he has sex for the first time. The same goes for women, no matter how many tampons she’s used. What people here mean, when they say tampons can claim a woman’s virginity, is that tampons have the potential to break a woman’s hymen which deprives men of the PROOF their newlywed was a virgin. The fact that a broken hymen is not even a reliable determinate of virginity - as they all break in different ways, and sometimes never at all – is an inconvenient truth. The tampon is the patriarchy’s Virgin Enemy Number One.

I started using tampons when I was 13 or 14 and yes, it was uncomfortable and scary to try it for the first time. I can tell you though, it bore no resemblance in feeling or emotion to losing my virginity, which was also uncomfortable and scary. But would I take back either experience? Hell no! I would not, for anything, go back to walking around wearing a massive pad between my legs in 40 degree heat (or any temperature), going to the bathroom every 10 minutes to check for the tell-tale sign of leakages on my clothes, being paranoid about the smell, ruining copious amounts of nice knickers, having to have special loose fitting and dark coloured clothing just for ‘that time of the month’, having to get out of bed five times a night to check the sheets or missing out on swimming lessons, beach trips and pool parties.

Likewise, I would not go back to being a virgin. Not at 34. And I’m glad I didn’t marry anyone just for the privilege of being able to wear a tampon, which seems like it would have been just as good a reason as any right now.

I have never forgotten the day my super-absorbent pad failed to absorb the amount of blood my body was dispensing. I had to walk around for the rest of the day with a jumper tied around my waist to hide the huge red stain on my school uniform. This was a severe abuse of school rules but the look on my face when a teacher told me to take it off (for the third time) was enough for her to know she shouldn’t insist. I was so mortified that, 20 years later, I still sweat thinking about it. And I went to a girls’ school! The humiliation was so intense it gave me the courage required to try that tampon.

In Georgia, where I’ve just been, I had to go to four shops before I could find a box of tampons for sale. I eventually found them inside a glass cabinet in a pharmacy. In Georgia, women are not allowed to wear tampons before they’re married. In Georgia, women are supposed to be virgins on their wedding night. But their word is not enough. The sheets have to be checked after consummation for the bloody proof that their hymen has broken. The same is true in Armenia and many other countries. But at least in those countries, married women can wear tampons. In much of the Middle East and the rest of Asia, South American and Africa, no women are allowed to wear tampons, married or otherwise.

I knew buying tampons was likely to be a problem while travelling so I bought a Mooncup in case I ran out. A Mooncup is the environmentalist’s answer to tampons. It’s a reusable menstrual cup made of medical grade silicone that catches the blood. Every four to eight hours, you take it out, empty it, rinse and repeat. I was a bit scared to use it for the first time but I carried my instructions to the bathroom with me and the process went surprisingly smoothly. It wasn’t quite as simple, or small, to insert as a tampon, but such is my commitment to the environment (and avoiding pads) I knew I’d get used to it – just like I got used to using tampons and having sex.

What an invention! For three hours I was incredibly impressed with how it all seemed to be working – just like a tampon. Unfortunately, I didn’t take my instructions with me when it came to taking it out. I panicked – I couldn’t get it to budge! The Mooncup works by suctioning itself to the vaginal wall and in order to release it, you need to squeeze the base of the cup or slide a finger along side it to release the suction. If you don’t release the suction, no amount of tugging is going to get it to budge. Unfortunately, I didn’t know this at the time for, even though I’d been carrying those Mooncup instructions around for months - I’d even once inadvertently dumped it on the table with my world map to the surprise of two men in Iran – I’d never actually read it.

I squatted in the bathroom tugging away at the stem, which I may have trimmed too short. I was sweating and shaking and doing all the wrong things to remove it. Shivers, I thought, I’m going to have to go to a Georgian hospital to get it taken out. They don’t even really know what a tampon is, let alone a Mooncup! And I’m not even married! Finally, I relaxed, and got it out.

As always, travelling raises your awareness of comforts, issues and culture you ordinarily take for granted. Tampons are, by far, the most comfortable and hygienic way to manage menstruation. The fact that so many women are denied this basic human right so that men think they have proof of their wives’ virginity is another example of the flagrant disregard for women’s health and wellbeing. Women all over South America, Asia, Africa and even parts of Europe are being misinformed. Too many men believe they have a right to control women’s bodies, if not by law then by misinformation and manufactured shame.

I say it’s my body and my blood, so I get to choose how to stem the flow. Not my husband and not the government. Me. And I choose to wear a tampon. Or a Mooncup, if all else fails (including my commitment to the environment). So I just want to warn the world now: Next time I get my period I don’t care where I am, I want to be able to buy a tampon goddammit. AND YOU HAD BETTER HAVE THEM FOR SALE!

With special thanks to Katherine Burgdorf