Taboos That Haunt Us for Life
Juliet Omondi is from Homa Bay in Kenya. She addresses a taboo that is widespread in Eastern Africa as well as in many other countries in the world. We say we are in the twenty-first century, and still girls and women face exclusion from schools and community events while having their menstruation. Juliet, with her organisation Paro Manyien (mindset shift), wants to change the narrative around this taboo through creating awareness among church and community leaders.
Imagine yourself in a crowd, and you unexpectedly have your periods, yet you have nothing to manage it with nor anyone to talk to about it. Has this ever happened to you? Well, I have been in such a situation before. Born and raised in the rural parts of western Kenya, where taboos and myths around menstruation are still upheld, I experienced the onset of my menstruation with fear and shame. My name is Juliet Omondi, and I refuse to subscribe to such backward beliefs.
Just like other families around my community, mine was one where menstruation was not discussed openly. It is believed that menstruation is a highly private women’s affair because the menstrual blood could be used by evil spirits to cause harm to those around you. Discussing menstruation with someone from the opposite sex is considered disrespectful. In a normal setup, I would wish mothers discussed these issues with their children early enough before puberty. Unfortunately, I missed out on this opportunity.
I vividly remember one Monday morning. I was preparing to go to school when I realized I had my periods. “Mama”, I called out in a frail voice. I was shaking, afraid, and anxious to get the response I expected. “What is it?” she responded. “I think I am having my periods.” This was because I’d heard my peers and older girls at school talking about periods and sanitary pads, although in hushed tones. Unfortunately, my expectations were not met. She said that maybe I was sick or that the blood could have been anything. I was disappointed, annoyed and outraged. Later that evening, she told me that I was now transitioning into a woman. “Now you should not sit in our bedroom or even enter it!” These words pierced through my heart. She even went on to warn me not to pluck my favorite vegetables from the garden during my periods because they would dry up. I felt let down and not cared for. Luckily, I had an older cousin in secondary school who was open to share with me her knowledge about menstruation and the dos and don’ts during my periods. This was after about three months of suffering in silence.
At school, I witnessed boys bullying older girls already experiencing these changes. They faced humiliation, fear, and ridicule. Little did I know that my moment would also be quite overwhelming: There came a day when I stained my school uniform and had to tie a sweater around my waist till lunch break. In order not to miss school, I occasionally sneaked into my mother’s bedroom to steal one or two pads, which were too big, thick, and uncomfortable to wear. This pushed me to devise other means of managing my menstrual blood. I cut old pieces of cloth and blankets and sewed them together. With time, I grew over my fears, opened up to my close friend, became defensive and confronted my bullies. Unknowingly, I had emerged as the voice of the other girls at school.
Today, as a public health officer, I interact with girls in similar situations: girls who, like me, have nobody to talk to, girls surrounded by taboos that prevent them from taking part in daily sociocultural activities while having their periods.
During one of the school health programs I implemented in Kilifi, Kenya, I had an emotional discussion with a girl named Kadzo who opened up about her struggles as a teenager. “I am an orphan and live with my grandparents who do not care about menstruation. At home, we struggle to put food on the table, and sanitary pads is not a priority because of our limited resources. I have no one to ask, no money to buy pads, and none to talk to.’’
Later, I went deeper into the topic and learned that the culture of secrecy around menstruation pushes girls further into a dilemma since they are not financially independent. Lack of proper guidance and fear make some girls resort to other means of getting money to buy pads. Ten percent of 15-year-old girls in Kenya exchange sex for money to buy pads since they can hardly get the same at home. Some end up with teenage pregnancies, early marriages, or sexually transmitted diseases. Some end up dropping out of school.
I thought. Just like Kadzo and I, many other girls still suffer in silence. And hence my journey to change this narrative.
Do you, like Juliet want to start your own impact making initiative and are you looking for a place to acquire skills?
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