For Women’s History Month this year, I thought I’d look at menstruation and period products.
First, I’m going to cover society’s attitudes to menstruation over the centuries. You won’t be surprised to learn that it’s been constant to this day. I’ll try not to let my rage at sexist ignorance influence this piece, but as normal, the snark may escape now and then. After that, I’ll look at the history of period products.
I’ve always been interested in what women in the past did regarding period products, so I did this research for fun.
Society’s attitude to menstruation
Menstruation has always been used as evidence that women are the weaker sex. (Deep breathing ensues.)
Galen’s theory of the 4 humours dominated medicine from the 2nd century CE to the early 1800s. Menstruation was believed to result from an excess of blood in the body and was, therefore, naturally purged to redress the balance.
Because women bled regularly, that obviously meant they were in a constant state of imbalance and were therefore weaker than men. (Remaining calm.)
Other than the Egyptians, who used menstrual blood in some health treatments (I don’t know any more than that and I don’t want to know), for thousands of years, menstruation has been considered dirty. Dr. John Burns stated menstruation is “to be considered a disease” in his work, The Principles of Midwifery (1811).
Physicians (of course they were male) regularly argued that menstruation:
- contaminated others
- polluted the surroundings of menstruating women
- caused female hysteria or madness.
Here’s the opinion of a professor of medicine at Oxford University and member of the Royal College of Physicians regarding female hysteria associated with menstruation:
“The tongue falters, trembles, and incoherent things are spoken; the voice changes; some roar, some scream, or shriek immoderately; others sigh deeply, weep or moan plaintively.”
William Rowley, A Treatise of Female Nervous Diseases, Madness, Suicide, &c. (1798)
I’m sighing deeply, Dr. Rowley, mostly so I don’t shriek immoderately at your condescension.
Medical advice during menstruation
There’s been some amusing ways to say one is menstruating without actually saying it: monthlies, menses, courses, a visit from aunt flo, the painters are in, and my personal favourite, a visit from the redheaded aunt from Redbank.
Many physicians advised that menstruating women should:
- not eat certain foods
- not to cook food for others
- restrict their movement
- not talk
- avoid men and men’s things
- stay away from others for the duration of their period.
(Deep breaths now)
In Modern Domestic Medicine: A Popular Treatise (1827), Thomas Graham advised:
“She should be careful to take exercise daily in the open air, to partake of a wholesome nutritious diet and not to indulge in tight clothes.”
That’s all good and well for females who had the luxury of resting for a week, but working women from governesses to laundresses had to carry on as normal. So, what did they do?
Openly discussing menstruation was frowned upon, and because of this, very little evidence has survived regarding period products.
The history of period products
Because of this stigma, any discussion about menstruation and period products was discreetly passed down between females.
But menstrual blood needed to be mopped up, and there have been several alternatives used by different cultures. The Ancient Greeks used lint wrapped around wool, and Native Americans used moss and buffalo skins to make a disposable pad. Some used wool wrapped in small muslin pouches.
In Europe, many women used a form of pad. A belt or bandage was tied around the waist or hips, and a muslin cloth was looped over the front and back. Imagine a type of loincloth. Extra layers of cloth were placed or stitched within the loin cloth.
Walking around in a nappy could not have been comfortable. It’s clear why ladies of leisure rested for a week, especially during the Regency. The bulky material would have been obvious beneath those delicate long-line gowns.
But pads weren’t the only option. Lucy Inglis discovered ‘suppositories for the privy place’ in early handbooks for women. Yes, a form of tampon existed, but I’m not sure if it was any more comfortable than wearing a giant nappy.
Fabric pads were securely stitched around a smooth stick a couple of inches in length. A long chord was sewn into the fabric that could be tied around the leg. If you’ve ever unravelled a modern tampon, you’ll know they still follow this basic make up.
Both pads and suppositories were made at home. Sometimes they were boiled and re-used or burned on the fire.
The first commercially sold pads were made by Johnson & Johnson in 1896. Lister’s Towels, or Sanitary Napkins for Ladies, were a reusable pad of cotton and gauze attached to a sanitary belt.
The continued stigma regarding menstruation meant they could not be advertised, and women didn’t want to be seen buying them. A century later, we still had wishy-washy adverts for period products. You know the ones I mean, with cartoon women wearing white and roller-skating in tight pants. It’s only been in the last 5 years that adverts for period products have used red liquid rather than the none-offensive blue stuff.
Ongoing stuggle
Unfortunately, there’s still a negative stigma regarding menstruation, female reproductive conditions and female mental health. Conditions like endometriosis and menopause are only just gaining the attention they deserve despite wreaking havoc on women’s lives since human existence.
If I were so inclined, I might shriek immoderately, but then I’d risk being accused of female hysteria.
Menstruation and period products are often glossed over in historical romance. Don’t get me wrong, female characters wearing a padded loin cloth for a week every month does kind of ruin the fantasy, not to mention the flowing lines of gowns.
The only time menstruation is ever mentioned is in association with pregnancy, but I have yet to read a historical romance that mentions periods products. Feel free to recommend any good ones in the comments.
Sources
A Curious History of Sex (2020), Kate Lister
Inside the World of Bridgerton (2023), Catherine Curzon
