Why are women weirdly upset at Jessica Biel's period book?
If we're going to take science classes in school, menstrual cycles may as well be covered
I have not had the best luck at amusement parks. When I was in day camp, a girl I went to elementary school with got sick on a ride. And she proceeded to lean over and throw up on my brand new jeans, the ones I was so proud of for the bows sewn directly above each ankle zipper. After she threw up, she felt great — and I sat on the bus on the way back home with bathroom-washed jeans that still smelled like vomit.
Then there was the time I went to an amusement park with a guy and his girlfriend, and the guy was basically being a bully to his own girlfriend the entire day. I was so over him and secretly hoping she’d dump him before the day was over, even though I’d known him for far longer than the girl.
But neither one of those amusement park moments topped Santa’s Village. I was having a blast on a field trip, hopping on ride after ride, while skipping all the overly kiddie rides. (I can’t remember whether I went with my Girl Scout troop or my school.) Shortly after I returned home and went to the bathroom, my first thought was that the roller coasters were trying to kill me. I had no idea why the crotch area of my shorts was drenched in blood.
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Luckily, my mother was home and could explain to me what menstrual cycles were. I was mortified. I wanted to know how I could undo this. If I got back on the roller coaster ride, could I reverse this? And why was this going to be something that happened every single month until I was in my 50s and boiling hot? From that point forward, I decided I hated Santa’s Village and I was beyond ashamed of what girls had to go through on a monthly basis.
I had no interest in being a mother (still don’t), so I didn’t get why I needed to be “prepared” for pregnancy. During each monthly cycle, the lining of the uterus (endometrium) thickens to prepare for a fertilized egg to attach and develop into a baby. The ovaries then release the hormones estrogen and progesterone, which cause the endometrium to build up. If you’re not pregnant, those hormone levels drop. Then, the endometrium breaks down and sheds as menstrual blood.
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My mother didn’t explain this to me in these big words though. All I knew was I was going to have to carry around maxi pads at the age of 11 and make sure the bathroom was absolutely empty so no one could hear me opening the wrapper.
And that’s exactly where things got complicated.
First, there was the girl in elementary school who came in the bathroom after me. I stood there like a mannequin, hoping she’d hurry up and leave. She didn’t. Finally, I opened the wrapper and she loudly said, “I know what you’re doing.” I made her promise not to tell anybody. (This sounds nuts to me now because this pre-teen was sexually active. If anything, she should’ve been making me promise to keep her secrets.)
Second, one of two boys I knew failed seventh grade and had to stay in our classroom for eight weeks in order to move on to seventh grade. One of them annoyed me way more than the other, and I called him out on something he’d done. His response, “Is it that time of the month?” He completely ignored my entire point about what led to me balling him out. And him surprisingly bringing up menstrual cycles made me be a church mouse around him. I would only talk to the other guy. (Again, this sounds nuts, because the period shamer had a mustache. I could’ve roasted him forever for needing to worry about shaving and failing his classes, not worrying about my body.)
Third, I got stuck with taking a biology class my freshman year with a bunch of sophomores. I already hated science, but there were two guys in my class who made the class tolerable. One looked like Larenz Tate and the other sorta favored Nick Kyrgios. But there was a particularly ugly, annoying other guy in the class who was forever in my face and being obnoxious. One day, he decided to block the doors and pull me out of the doorway so I couldn’t get into class. That was also the day I realized I’d only brought one pad to last me all day. Without going into detail, an impromptu wrestling match and no backup pads made the rest of the day — memorable. Once again, I was ashamed and never went to the nurse to ask for an extra pad.
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Over and over again, I was a pre-teen and teenager who was ashamed of something that every single girl was going through. And just about every girl I knew was just as ashamed. There was my locker neighbor who would spray perfume after every single class. There was my childhood best friend who refused to shower at my home for fear that blood may drip into our bathtub.
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There was that trip to Tennessee when a family friend was horrified when I asked her why her calendar said “Start” and “Stop” in five-day gaps on her calendar. There was even a woman my mother was friends with who never left her home during her menstrual cycle — not to go to work, not for special occasions and even canceled tickets to a live event because she got her period before she was walking out the door. And she was in her late 30s!
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If anything, both the girls and the boys who I went to school with would’ve been better off knowing exactly what was happening in girls’ bodies so we could stop acting like it was a curse to be a human biological female.
So I couldn’t be happier that actor Jessica Biel — who I’ve known about since my childhood days binge-watching “Seventh Heaven” — wrote a book about periods. While I still think women who don’t want to have kids got a bum deal while dealing with this for four decades, I accepted this unwanted guest by the end of that uncomfortable day in biology class.
But instead of women and men (parents and non-parents) being happy that children will be more educated on anatomy — as I believe they should be — there are a load of Instagram complaints from women (or fake accounts claiming to be women) about why the title of her book says “kids” instead of “girls.”