Yeah, 'Oh dearie me'. |
However, amidst the laudable headway we’ve made is
one little factoid that always pisses me off royally (call it PMS. Lulllzz.
Except, don’t. Ever). Because while the thresholds of temples are being crossed
by women on their period—and rightly so—and period cramps have finally been
recognised as a legit enough medical condition for several companies to realize
it might render an employee unable to work (it’s called Dysmenorrhea, for further reference), we’re still ludicrously
backward in one little part of this endeavour to surge ahead.
Tampons. What the FUCK, guys?
The Indian attitude to tampons, in our current climate of understanding and change, seems as ill-fitting as Kim Kardashian at a Fellow
Sufferers of Low Self Esteem Convention (This isn’t real, but if you’d like me
to found it, just say the word). We bandy on and on about how attitudes to
sexuality need remedying, pronto.
And yet, the tampon stands in front of the firing squad of Indian
society for it’s mere existence.
What, in the Wild West, is considerable a convenient—and more widely
used—alternative to the ‘pad’ (which, in my VERY PERSONAL VERY HUMBLE DO NOT
ATTACK ME opinion is an archaic concept regardless; Tampon convert since 2012,
thank you very much) is, in India, almost a non-option.
While in countries across the globe, a local department store will display with gay abandon the proud array of tampon types—wide, slim,
cardboard-applicator, plastic-applicator, NO applicator (go rogue, ladies!)
cheaper, mid-range, expensive and luxurious—the scope on this side of the grass
is nowhere near as fist-pumping and embracing about them.
Here, you get ONE brand. That makes TWO alternatives—the ‘Do
you bleed a lot?’ or ‘Do you bleed two hours less than a lot?’ And discounts
aren’t really offered on the real price you have to pay—hypercritical scathing
from a 60+ shopkeeper, the person you will have to awkwardly ask for a box of these, whilst trying to slip it in
between asthma medicine and Chloromint, like a smooth operator.
In my head, I often equate tampons with a tiny box of judgment missiles, spewed at me with a sous army of disparaging, glare needles.
In my head, I often equate tampons with a tiny box of judgment missiles, spewed at me with a sous army of disparaging, glare needles.
Why, are they handed out, you ask? Why can’t you just sashay
past the scented phenyl bottles, mammoth puffy bags of cheeseballs and Sexy Man
deodorants and pick one up yourself? Why can’t you just ring the local Modern
Bazaar and have them casual toss in a box or two with your bulk order of
Bourbon biscuits and Kitty Litter?
Oh, that’s right. Because you don’t get them at stores.
Oh, that’s right. Because you don’t get them at stores.
Tampons, a product that's so niche and under-used in this country
are, in parlance with the fact, incredibly under-available. You can only pick one
up at a chemist (hugely under-stocked with any women, or chill-looking men—basically anyone you’d prefer to interact with about the matter, instead of aforementioned
crusty shopkeeper ‘uncle’, and are thereby not at liberty to pick one up
without announcing it. EVER.
I wonder, perhaps, if in this moonwalk of progress, we’ll have to start providing prescriptions for it, in due time.
I wonder, perhaps, if in this moonwalk of progress, we’ll have to start providing prescriptions for it, in due time.
The idea of having to ask a bloody chemist for a box of tampons is galling for three
chief reasons (IMHO).
The first, I do not need this man to know I’m on my period.
Sure, my inflated, cartoon-esque PMS with full-on screaming, quickly switching to
crying, and smashing boxes of PediaSure in the shop will probably tip him off
that I’m PMSing, but I shouldn’t have to part with this information should I not want to. Sorry, but that’s my prerogative.
The second, is that it is an automatic admittance to these
strange men, leapyears away from my socio-cultural wavelength, that I have (or
am continuing to have) sex. Because, while you can use a tampon even if your hymen is in
pristine condition, it’s statistically unlikely that you will. The process is
made smoother if you are ‘sexually active’ (a detestable—but fully apt—phrase.
Sorry, anyhow).
I don’t know how much I would care—the little, feminist bird
in me, beating against the shackles of my ribcage thinks I shouldn’t care. It
yearns to be unfettered, and scream from a ravaged four-poster about how I do it, I
like it, and I get it all the time. But as much as it might be in my list of freedoms to be open
and vocal about sex, it is also my prerogative to dispense of this information
as I see fit. If I want to blog about it, great. If I want to toot my own horn
(only figuratively, thank God) over cocktails with my friends, don’t mind if I
do. However, if I want NOT to let this possibly whore/Madonna complex-bred man
know about my sexual whereabouts, that is as much my right.
It is the same fuel of indignation about that right that
brings me to my chief issue with tampon treatment in this country.
So, in a random bout of boredom, I decided to examine the
little sheaf of ‘How To’ paper that comes in the teensy tampon box. Amidst
instructions, directions and cautions, I caught a little line that ran so deep
into the cesspool of our cultural mire, it was deplorable.
“Product for use by married women only”
Thanks, tampon peeps. The idea that the sole producer of this niche product that
actually allows for a woman to bleed monthly in peace without sticking a mini-diaper on the ALMOST ALWAYS too skinny
crotch-strip of underpants (who are these pads made for? The BFG?) feels the
need to add this socio-political coward of a disclaimer is quite disconcerting.
God forbid we should say ‘sexually active’, a phrase, in this
case, that I prefer despite it’s notorious parental-lecture-esque badge value,
because at least it doesn’t propagate the equating of ‘having sex’ with ‘being
married’.
There’s a part of me that (albeit disparagingly) understands.
How, in this nation run amok with moral police and Shiv Senazis does one simply
put the idea out there—even if it’s in something as clinical as Directions For
Use—the idea that someone (anyone) who’s having sex can use a tampon. But
naturally, the form should be used to subliminally suggest that using a tampon
whilst being unwed is an idea so unfathomable, ‘we daren't put in on the packaging.’
An article on India Today shows the shocking results that India
is the leading country statistically when it comes to unprotected sex.
“As many as 72 per cent of sexually active young people across the
country have had sex with new partners without any protection, an international
survey says. At least 40 per cent of the youth polled in
India say they had problems accessing contraceptives when they needed it, while 36
per cent said they knew a close friend/ family member who has had an unplanned
pregnancy. Nearly one-third of them got wrong information about
contraception from friends.”
Another survey by IPAS, India (an
international NGO working on increasing access to safe abortion services) mentions that, according to their estimates and calculations, unsafe abortions
are killing a woman every two hours in India (which is approximately 4000
deaths a year). A Lancet paper in 2007 said there were 6.4 million abortions,
of which 3.6 million or 56 per cent were unsafe. IPAS has calculated this based
on the latest population and crude birth rates (CBR) which peg the number of
induced abortion at 5,007,932. It’s safe to say that amount has probably
increased exponentially over the last nine years.
A survey conducted by Lady Hardinge Medical College (LHMC) found that STD cases had jumped
from 1 to 4.9 per cent over the past four years, with diseases ranging
from Viral and Bacterial STIs, HIV, Molluscum Contagiosum, Cyanea Acuminate, Herpes Genitalis to secondary Syphilis, where, from the test group of over
1,000 people (mostly teenagers), two of the teens had partners with high-risk
behaviour in the form of multiple sexual partners. Seventy-five per cent
patients had used barrier contraceptives during their last sexual intercourse
while the rest had a history of unprotected intercourse. Three boys had
indulged in sexual activity with commercial sex workers and the doctors said
that, "Five of the 15 males (33.3 per cent) gave a positive history of
homosexuality."
All madly, madly disturbing facts.
You’re currently wondering why, exactly, I’m
on this tangential rant about abortions, unprotected sex and STDs instead of harping
on a bit more about social freedom and #womenslib. Or, if you aren’t wondering
why, then clearly we’re on the same wavelength and should probably grab a drink
sometime.
It may seem a bit far-fetched, but I believe
it’s in subtle nuances like this line, “For use by married women only”, that
the rot runs deep and starts to fester. While the idea that only legally wed
women should be having sex is something a country like our tries to perpetrate,
the reality is so shockingly disparate it's both shameful and unbelievable.
People so clearly in the dark about sexual
how-tos and what-to-nots are doing things wrong, haphazardly and dangerously,
because they do not know any better. Preaching of the abstaining-until
philosophy eliminates the idea of choice—and creates all the calamities that
come tumbling after it. It creates a situation where people are getting
diseases (often terminal or catastrophic ones), or having to take drastic
measures like an abortion, which, even if you discount failed-contraception
related pregnancies and the incredibly sad female foeticide, is still an astronomical
figure.
While sex education is a naturally-assumed
prerequisite in western schooling, it’s in the nascent stages in this country—so
nascent, in fact, it’s barely visible. It’s rise was even being blatantly obstructed
by our own Health Minister, Harsh Vardhan. “In his 'vision' document for Delhi schools, Vardhan, himself a doctor, has
said, "So-called 'sex education' (should) be banned." His website—drharshvardhan.com—also
states the need to integrate value education with course content and put strong
emphasis on exposing students to India's cultural relations,” said a TOI
article, while the minister remained unavailable for comment.
It is this very notion—that sexual freedom
somehow disturbs the pristine waters of our ‘sanskars’
that has brought us to this apocalypse of epidemic after epidemic. Because, really, there
couldn’t be a vicious circle drawn with more geometric precision—try to
cultivate a culture of sound, stable people (because their values are in place)
and wind up with people that put their bodies and lives through immeasurable
torture, rendering them anything but sound and stable.
The real kicker is that there is this
unseen, undetectable moral force determining what we should and should not
subscribe to. Sex post-marriage, permissible. Sex pre-marriage? See you in
hell, girlfriend.
And you know what? All that gruesome info above may be unnerving. But it does confirm one thing for sure.
And you know what? All that gruesome info above may be unnerving. But it does confirm one thing for sure.
People in this country are CLEARLY having
sex.
They’re having sex young, they’re having sex wrong, they’re having sex perilously and regularly, in marriages, before marriages, outside marriages. We're running through the entire gamut of sexual options, and we’re so averse to acknowledging it, we still have the gall to put repulsive and grotesque statements like that one on the merchandise we buy of our free will.
They’re having sex young, they’re having sex wrong, they’re having sex perilously and regularly, in marriages, before marriages, outside marriages. We're running through the entire gamut of sexual options, and we’re so averse to acknowledging it, we still have the gall to put repulsive and grotesque statements like that one on the merchandise we buy of our free will.
The change needs to start so fast and much,
it’s formidable. If we continue to tell people they shouldn’t use tampons
unless they have husbands (‘Lesbians? What are
those things? Are they from Lebanon?’) and believe that "Condoms promise safe sex, but the safest sex is through
faithfulness to one's partner. Prevention is always better than cure,” (another
gem from our buddy Harsh Vardhan), we’re in trouble. The idea that
it’s so widespread is daunting, but the phrase ‘one step at a time’ springs to
mind.
Let’s start by reprinting that manual, shall
we?