Every year Menstrual Hygiene Day reminds us of the grim reality that we are yet to understand — women and their plight. A woman bleeds for 2,535 days in her life. Seven years — spent negotiating biology with silence. A process that shaped humanity itself is still shrouded in 5,000 euphemisms, tabooed into invisibility, and buried under the weight of shame.
We live in a country where billion-dollar boardrooms squirm at the word “period.” Where temples bar women at their most divine. Whereas science textbooks chart the cosmos, but skip what happens inside half the classroom once a month. We’ve built bullet trains and digital wallets — but still fumble, whisper, and wince at menstrual truth. This is not irony. This is national insanity.
The era of tokenism and timid reforms is over. What we need now is nothing short of a menstrual revolution — fueled by systems, science, and solidarity.
Picture this: A 12-year-old girl wakes up to discover blood on her sheets. Her first instinct isn’t to seek help — it’s to hide. She’s inherited centuries of conditioning that taught her mother, and her mother’s mother, that menstruation is dirty, shameful, something to be concealed like a guilty secret. The statistics paint a devastating portrait. According to Dasra’s groundbreaking research, 70 per cent of Indian mothers consider menstruation “dirty,” and nearly half of girls encounter their first period with no prior knowledge.
This isn’t just ignorance — it’s the systematic erasure of female biology from public discourse. But shame doesn’t exist in isolation. It manifests in tangible ways: girls are banished from kitchens during their periods, women are denied entry to temples, and adolescents drop out of school because they lack access to sanitary products or clean toilets. We’ve created an ecosystem where female biology becomes a barrier to participation in society. The cruelest irony? In a nation that worships goddesses, we’ve made the very process that creates life a source of exile. Here’s what the silence costs us: lives. When we treat menstruation as an unspeakable topic, we rob women of critical health literacy. Periods aren’t just about managing flow — they’re windows into overall health. Irregular cycles can signal PCOS, affecting 1 in 5 Indian women. Heavy bleeding might indicate fibroids or thyroid disorders. Severe pain could mask endometriosis, a condition that affects millions but remains largely undiagnosed.
The Indian Journal of Medical Research reveals that over 60 per cent of adolescent girls report menstrual disorders, yet most suffer in silence. We’re not just failing to provide pads — we’re failing to save lives. Cervical cancer, often preventable with early detection, claims thousands of Indian women annually, partly because menstrual taboos prevent open discussions about reproductive health.
When we normalise period conversations, we don’t just restore dignity — we create pathways to early intervention, proper diagnosis, and life-saving treatment. India’s digital revolution offers unprecedented opportunities to democratise menstrual health. But we need solutions that speak our languages — literally and figuratively. Imagine period-tracking apps that don’t just log cycles but educate users in Hindi, Tamil, Bengali, Assamese, and tribal dialects. Picture AI-powered chatbots that can detect concerning symptoms and recommend medical consultations. Envision voice-based interfaces for women with limited literacy and WhatsApp modules that work on basic phones in remote villages. This isn’t about building another Silicon Valley solution for urban elites. It’s about creating digital tools that understand India’s diversity — apps that respect regional variations in menstrual practices, accommodate different literacy levels, and provide culturally sensitive health information. The technology exists. What we need is the will to make it accessible, affordable, and authentically Indian. As we work to normalise periods, we must also address their environmental impact. Traditional sanitary products contribute to massive waste streams, with a single woman generating over 60 kilograms of menstrual waste in her lifetime. This is where innovation meets conscience. Bamboo-based sanitary products offer a compelling alternative — completely biodegradable, naturally antimicrobial, and sustainable. When we choose eco-friendly menstrual products, we’re not just protecting the environment; we’re modelling responsible consumption for future generations. However, sustainability without accessibility is a privilege. The challenge lies in making green menstrual products affordable and available to all economic segments — from urban professionals to rural labourers.
Let’s address the elephant in the room: menstruation will never be truly normalised until men are part of the conversation. In a country where fathers often avoid discussing periods with their daughters, where male teachers skip reproductive health chapters, and where husbands are uncomfortable buying sanitary products, how can we expect societal acceptance?
The solution isn’t to sideline men — it’s to educate them. When fathers understand menstruation, they become advocates for their daughters’ health. When male colleagues support period leave policies, workplaces become more equitable. When boys learn about menstruation in school, they grow up to be empathetic partners and supportive friends. Menstrual equity isn’t a women’s movement — it’s a human rights movement that requires all genders to participate.
Government schemes providing subsidised sanitary pads have made important strides, but we need a more comprehensive approach. Policy must evolve from simply providing products to building systems — systems that integrate education, healthcare, and innovation. Startups developing menstrual health solutions need active Government support through incubation programs, research grants, and regulatory pathways. Educational curricula must include comprehensive menstrual health modules. Healthcare systems need protocols for addressing menstrual disorders. Workplaces require supportive policies that don’t penalise women for biological realities. This isn’t about choosing between policy and innovation — it’s about creating synergies between them.
At the heart of India’s menstrual revolution are women who refused to accept the status quo. From Arunachalam Muruganantham’s inspiration drawn from his wife’s experience to countless female entrepreneurs creating sustainable menstrual products, women’s lived experiences drive meaningful change. These women aren’t just building businesses — they’re dismantling systems of oppression. They’re proving that when women control the narrative around their bodies, innovation flourishes.
International Menstrual Hygiene Day 2025 marks more than awareness — it marks accountability. To the policymakers reading this: Fund comprehensive menstrual health programs. To the entrepreneurs: Build solutions that serve all Indians, not just the privileged few. To the educators: Start uncomfortable conversations that lead to comfortable futures. To the parents: Break the cycle of shame that you inherited.
And to every Indian reading this: Understand that periods are not a problem — they’re a reality that half our population experiences. The problem is the silence, stigma, and systematic exclusion we’ve built around this reality. Let 2025 be remembered not as another year of awareness campaigns, but as the year India chose to transform silence into strength, shame into celebration, and periods into power.
(Ashmi M is the founder of NeoW India and Malvika Bhardwaj is a communications and policy expert. Views expressed are personal)