My Little Red Book
Do you remember your first period?
Wait, no – I phrased that wrong. Do you remember your first annoying classmate who wouldn’t shut up about her period? You know, the one who liked to shout “VAGINA!” just to see people’s reactions?
Well, she got a book deal. My Little Red Book is a collection of stories about first periods edited by Rachel Nalebuff, a unicycle rider and self-described “period girl.” Although a few established writers – Erica Jong, Tamora Pierce, Jacquelyn Mitchard – do contribute, most of the stories have been gathered from ordinary women, including the editor’s mother, grandmother, and sister. Most of the stories don’t stray far from the event itself; with the exception of Sandra Guy’s “Blood Month, 1979″ and one or two others, each story simply describes the writer’s first period and then passes the mic to someone else. Each story is dated, giving the book a historical rather than literary or critical feel.
Now, it’s not a bad idea. You’re probably not at this blog if you don’t know that the female body is a focal point for shame and loathing, and anything having to do with reproduction gets an extra helping of hostility. There has been some fabulous work on subverting and healing our currently warped views of our bodies, and an anthology reexamining assumptions about menarche would be a welcome addition to any feminist library.
But this is not that anthology. Rather, it mostly reads like the pages of Teen Magazine’s embarrassing stories column: “I got mine in my bathing suit!” “I got mine at a HUGE PARTY!” “Mine made a puddle on my chair!” “Mine made a stain on my skirt!” The experiences of middle class American girls, who make up the bulk of the collection, get so repetitive that they almost fall into a formula: girl wants/doesn’t want/is unfamiliar with concept of period; spot appears and girl is thrilled/unhappy/terrified; family member tells everyone/no one; girl ends the story angry/comforted/proud. Everyone, it seems, has read Judy Blume. And hey, how about those pads, huh? So bulky! And the belt! Hoo boy! Oh, and don’t you hate it when it gets on your clothes? Especially at school/on vacation/in the pool/in front of your dad? Am I right, girls? Am I right? Most of the stories are barely longer than a page, and with good reason – as profound as the event can be for each individual, when they’re strung together in one long chain of spot after gush after smear, most first period stories aren’t all that interesting.
Not that they can’t be. There are a few highlights, like the reprint of Gloria Steinem’s “If Men Could Menstruate” and Deo Robbins’s “The Harness, 1961.” Simply throwing together a hundred period stories doesn’t tell us much about gender or sexuality, but when we unpack the experience to see what broader forces are driving it, we start to come to a better understanding of the way women’s bodies are shamed, othered, and controlled.
And a few interesting themes do emerge. Take, for instance, the eight (by my count) stories in which a girl sees the blood and thinks she’s dying. Strangely enough, these stories seem to defy any sort of pattern. It doesn’t have anything to do with ignorance; girls fully versed in period lore still can’t figure it out at first. Some of them panic, but others are remarkably blase, even philosophical. Why dying, exactly? Even if you were bleeding for no reason, surely you’d entertain the possibility that whatever you had wasn’t life-threatening? Assuming the worst seems almost like preparing oneself to prepare oneself for death – deep down, you may know that whatever’s happening is probably treatable, but you can’t resist going through the motions.
But the book’s flaws heavily outweigh its selling points. The most outrageous of them is Nalebuff’s claim, in the intro, that “almost no one talks about” and “even fewer people write about” their periods, and that she hopes the reader will use the book to “start a dialogue” with friends and family. Really? We’ve never talked about our first periods before? Not in Judy Blume’s novels, the aforementioned Teen Magazine column, our high school sleepovers, our college dorms, our books on Wicca, that episode of South Park where the boys bleed from their asses and don moon goddess attire? We haven’t whispered it to our friends, heard about it from our mothers and teachers and older sisters, marked it with religious and cultural rituals, read about it in teen novels and folklore? White middle class cisgendered women (I can’t speak for anyone else, of course – but then, Nalebuff can’t, either) have been talking about our first periods for decades, possibly longer. In fact, almost immediately after stating that almost no one talks about it, Nalebuff goes on to tell the story of how every woman in her family talked about it. I’m reminded here of Michel Foucault’s History of Sexuality, in which he points out that Western civilization has “finally” been talking about sex for the past several centuries. The Greeks talked about it, medieval Catholics talked about it (priests often told people to include as much graphic detail as possible in confession), the Victorians talked about it under the guise of pretending not to talk about it, and now our generation has been probing it more or less continuously for as long as most of us can remember. Sure, we rarely talk about sex in a very healthy way, but that’s not the point. The point is that throughout history, each movement has genuinely believed it was the first to break the silence surrounding sex, when in reality, that silence never existed. What no one realized was that the benefits of breaking the taboo, whether they were power or submission or just a naughty thrill, were what created the taboo in the first place. Sex would never feel off limits if we didn’t all keep treating it as if it were.
To bring this back to periods, I know that many women have been forced into silence and shame about their bodies, and I don’t want to diminish that. Those are the stories that should be told. But you can’t pretend that the whole of Western civilization had tape over its mouth before Rachel Nalebuff came along. In fact, the stories in MLRB prove it. The stories of women whose periods were cloaked in ignorance and disapproval are countered by the multitude of stories – one dating back to 1916 – of openness, honesty, and joy. If there’s one thing this book demonstrates, it’s not that we’re too silent about first periods, but that silence and openness have more to do with individual families than with time and place.
Also, I’m sorry, but do we really need a dialogue that’s predicated on paying 15 bucks for a book? Nalebuff’s calls to continue the dialogue sound a bit hollow when she just so happens to receive publicity and admiration when we do it. (Thankfully, she’s donating the royalties to women’s charities.) It’s fine to edit an anthology of first period stories, and it’s even better to connect that to women’s rights, but for god’s sake, let’s call it what it is. Otherwise, this turns into consumerism at its most insidious – even our own menarche is commodified and sold back to us under the pretense that we don’t know what to do with it.
Finally, in case you were wondering, yes, the title is an explicit reference to Mao Zedong. Because, see, the book shares the same “revolutionary spirit.”
Yeah, I’m offended, too.
{ 53 comments }
Am I the only woman in the world who doesn’t remember their period? I think I was twelve, but it was pretty much a non-event. I would prefer a book of cynical observations about the annoying and gross aspects of periods to these sentimental yarns.
I’m with you on the commodification. Maybe she can set up a website or blog or something where such dialog can be continued. Seems like no matter what someone comes up with, there’s someone else grabs a hold of it and makes it over and sells it back to them, and the rest of us.
And I never much got into the teen/girl mags, partly because the stories of embarrassment puzzled me. Why on earth would anyone want even more people knowing about whatever humiliating event took place? Why wasn’t there more of a market for stories of how such events were forestalled or turned back on themselves, by the protagonist’s cleverness and/or the loyalty of her friends?
“Do you remember your first annoying classmate who wouldn’t shut up about her period? You know, the one who liked to shout “VAGINA!” just to see people’s reactions?”
I was, and still am, that girl. Does this make me a bad person?
I write about my period every month on my blog. I think it is not that we don’t talk about it, the problem is that is seen as forbidden conversation. We whisper about it amongst ourselves as though it is dirty or foul. We don’t use the same tones that we would if we were talking about crossing the street or combing our hair. Just because conversation is occurring does not mean that is normalized in a positive fashion.
I think its a gross thing to talk about. Though I saw an analyze-your-poo-encyclopedia type thing at the bookstore the other day, so i guess its about time there was one for periods.
Its just like how I don’t talk to my friends about any other bodily function… “How’s your urine today?” isn’t quite as nice as talking about the weather, eh?
This is sort of off topic, but one time in high school a feminist magazine I was working on was planning to run a back-page feature of a girl’s day written by a guy and a boy’s day written by a girl, and our guy writer had his imaginary girl get her period for the first time, which he described as “squish,” and a (usually awesome) teacher found this piece when we accidentally printed it in her department’s office, and got really offended and yelled at us wee ninth-graders about how describing it like that was demeaning to a significant experience in a young girl’s life, and I was too scared to say anything to her but to this day I think she was totally wrong, because my period was not an emotionally significant experience at all & I think it’s sort of ridiculous to expect it to be for every girl.
It’s not just talking about it that matters, but what we say. I was, back in the dark ages, given a poisonous little pamphlet put out by one of the companies that make “feminine hygiene” products. This cannot be worse than that. I would think that the very sameness of the stories might be comforting to a young one. I can’t say I think the project is revolutionary, but I’ve a granddaughter coming up to that age. I might take a look at the thing in a bookstore and see if it’s something worth handing to her mother for passing along at a convenient moment.
Um, no, I never did. Except for reading Judy Blume and seeing “Carrie” – and I never talked to anyone about those experiences – none of that list speaks to me.
I purchased and enjoyed the book, and blogged about it.
Yup, the book is overloaded with younger women (at least younger than I am) and most are white and privileged. The writing is uneven and some of the stories are repetitive. I think that’s what will make this book accessible to my daughter in a year or so. Eve is 9 and immersed in mainstream culture, despite our best efforts; she’s breathing in all sorts of body-image messages, and she won’t be interested in any direct attempts to analyze or subvert those images for a while. “My Little Red Book”, despite its flaws and limitations, is one thing I can offer to broaden the images of women available to her.
Link didn’t work – my blog post is here http://twowomenblogging.blogspot.com/2009/03/my-little-red-story-by-jay.html
I remember my first period but that was mostly because it was School Picture Day. Oh, sixth grade, how you sucked.
I’m not the kind of person who takes every opportunity to talk about the horrors of the Chinese government, but I confess to looking askance at anyone who holds up their model of revolution as anything but a cautionary tale.
I haven’t read the book, but from what I have read about it, it seems to me to be more aimed at teen girls than adult women. I don’t know if that’s true, but if it is, I think that it could be an incredibly positive thing for them. I also agree with what Renee said, that we often talk about periods but it’s in a way that is shameful and secretive rather than celebratory and accepting of our bodies (and I say that as a woman who hates getting her period, even if I don’t think it’s “gross”).
Remember in the wedding thread last week we were talking about the “momzilla” concept? My mom was a menarche momzilla. Way way way more excited about it than I was. In a way that didn’t make me feel like some momentous rite of passage was taking place, but which kind of served to shame and humiliate me. It was like if someone you knew constantly wanted to talk about your bowel movements loudly in public. I remember a lot more of my mom’s obnoxiousness than I do my own feelings about my body or what specifically happened to me when I started my period.
Which is not at all to say that mothers shouldn’t take on any role in this, or that starting your period isn’t a fascinating rite of passage, or anything like that. But it would have been nice if my mom had just let me experience it for myself.
You make a good point that we (middle class white cis women) talk about our periods, with one another fairly comfortably- a far cry from never. But Cara and Renee are right when they say we talk about it differently and secretively. So many girls hide their tampon in a sleeve before excusing themselves to the bathroom- because you shouldn’t let people know your body is doing a perfectly natural thing. So many girls will never talk to their male family members about it, and struggle to talk to their male partners.
When the book came out I posted a link to the book’s site on my facebook and wrote a brief note about how we (my male and female friends) shouldn’t feel awkward about menstruation. The note had 20 comments within a few hours (WAY more than i usually get), and I recieved a couple private messages from my male friends who were “very uncomfortable” talking about that.
Julie, I know this is off-topic but thats kind of a bad analogy. I’m pretty sure Foucault meant that we were finally talking about sex rather than whispering about sex or talking about the sin/horror/shame that surrounds sex, that western society had finally begun to treat sex as a subject rather than as an aspect, that the social influences surrounding conversations about sex had changed the nature of the conversations in an important way. Individuals throughout history have always been able to do that, but society as a whole didn’t have the rules and context to manage it for most of western history.
All –
Like I said, I don’t want to minimize the experiences of women who have never felt comfortable talking about their first periods. My objection, though, was the idea that “almost no one” talks about it. My family, high school friends, and college friends were all perfectly frank about it – that’s the atmosphere in which I grew up. Was my experience just a wild exception to the rule? I don’t think it was (I grew up in a very conservative town, after all). Nalebuff’s narrative is certainly true for some, but not for everyone.
semi_factual, I don`t remember it either.
How often do periods get this much attention, and you’re going to complain about it? Make fun of a woman for writing a book (and $15 is not expensive for a book)? I thought this was unnecessary snark on a website that usually deals with issues that matter. I would have LOVED this when I was a teenager, and I’m sure older women who didn’t live in such an open society would like it, too. Like Renee said, it’s good that it’s talked about. A blog entry like this is just adding to the negativity that pushed menstruation into an untouchable/speakable place to begin with. Congrats!
The “no one talks about it” refers to menstruation as a subject able to be talked about comfortably in situations that aren’t exclusively female. How many times have you heard about boners and jizz in mixed company? For me, lots. It’s not uncommon to be talked about in a joking manner, but you don’t have the same thing for periods.
Julie, my experience was that no one talked about it except my mother. I can’t say that your experience was an exception to the rule, because I don’t know “the rule”, but I can say that the editor’s experience resonated with me in a way it clearly didn’t with you.
How many times have you heard about boners and jizz in mixed company? For me, lots.
Same, and I don’t mind it at all. Boners and jizz are kinda funny topics. But then I start talking about my period, and 75% of guys go, “EW EW OK THAT’S ENOUGH.” The only time I’ve heard a guy tell a story related to menstruation was when he was talking about how traumatizing it was to find a box of his sister’s tampons. That would be roughly comparable to me freaking out because I saw that my brother had a box of Kleenex in his room, or a roll of toilet paper in his bathroom.
Its just like how I don’t talk to my friends about any other bodily function… “How’s your urine today?” isn’t quite as nice as talking about the weather, eh?
But I do ask friends how illnesses are going. “How’s your stomachache?” “How’s your cold?” etc. It’s not that I want to hear the details of their gastrointestinal issues or mucus; I want to know about their well-being. If it’s okay to complain about a stomachache caused by indigestion, I see no reason why it should be taboo to talk about menstrual cramps. And it IS still taboo to talk about that in mixed company. In fact, I worked at a job once where we were literally not allowed to mention menstrual cramps by company policy, because it was “sexual harassment.”
I find it rather a pity that the author didn’t move outside the comfort zone of white/middle-class/American, but apart from that,wow, this is a mean-minded blog post.
I’ve worked in all-male offices more often than not, and in general that means at work I do not talk about my period. I don’t think I’ve ever talked about my period with my dad or my brother, and I certainly didn’t talk about my period at school.
Now I’m a white middle-class woman in her forties who feels absolutely comfortable about talking about my period with other women, and in mixed company with friends. But I don’t assume – and nor should you – that because in 2009 this is true of me, it’s true of every teenager having her period for the first time.
Also, I’m sorry, but do we really need a dialogue that’s predicated on paying 15 bucks for a book? Nalebuff’s calls to continue the dialogue sound a bit hollow when she just so happens to receive publicity and admiration when we do it. (Thankfully, she’s donating the royalties to women’s charities.) It’s fine to edit an anthology of first period stories, and it’s even better to connect that to women’s rights, but for god’s sake, let’s call it what it is. Otherwise, this turns into consumerism at its most insidious – even our own menarche is commodified and sold back to us under the pretense that we don’t know what to do with it.
Jesus Christ on the rag, what is this? A book can meaningfully be part of a dialogue, yes, and yes, if you’re buying a book you have to pay for it. Sorry. That’s just how it is. A book does not cease to become part of a dialogue because it is produced by a commercial publisher and sold in regular bookshops. This is not “consumerism” any more than Judy Blume’s Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret was “consumerism” because Blume got her royalties. Collecting and editing an anthology is work: damn right royalties should be payable. (What the editor does with her royalties is her own damn business, too.) Just because it’s an anthology of “first period” stories does not make editing it “women’s work” – ie, to be done for free.
William, I think the point that Julie was making via Foucault is just the opposite: not that we are finally talking about sex, but that western society has been talking about sex as a subject for several centuries, while we tend to think that this conversation is “finally” happening, i.e., that the current generation is the first to do it.
Esme, my sincerest apologies — my finger totally slipped when I was moderating comments and I accidentally deleted yours. And sadly, there’s no way to get it back :( It was absolutely nothing personal, and please feel free to leave it again!
Books (and other media) that help dialogue can be great. But I am just wondering what that dialogue would look like if the book – according to Jill’s review – presents a pretty limited spectrum of experience.
I went to Amazon to see if I could ‘flip’ through the table of contents and there are almost 100 chapters/100 writers! I think the centering of white, middle-class cisgender experience (so what else is new?!) is more than unfortunate. It has had and continues to have insidious results by parading as normative women’s experience. So it would seem the conformity of experience would open up dialogue for some, and alienate others.
“Nalebuff’s calls to continue the dialogue sound a bit hollow when she just so happens to receive publicity and admiration when we do it. (Thankfully, she’s donating the royalties to women’s charities.)”
There are plenty of male authors with less worthwhile and accessible material who get publicity, admiration, AND royalties whom we don’t find offensive. I think the bar you’re setting here is pretty high.
And I agree with Renee and Cara. There is a forbidden nature to period talk. I got mine later than normal (14, almost 15) and was shamed for it by classmates, and a book with a range of stories would’ve been helpful.
Sometimes the perfect is the enemy of the good. More so with women than with men, I think.
Yeah, I think it misses the point to say “Talk about periods is nothing new!” It’s almost always between ciswomen. Recent case in point: I have a friend that I talk about menstruation with whenever it comes up. (Mostly we’re like “I’m on my period, and it sucks.”) But one of her professors asked for a tampon in the middle of class, and my friend was like “Can you believe it?! In front of all those guys!”
And I’ve talked about tampons with a female friend in front of a guy friend, and he basically tried to ignore the entire conversation.
So yes, it’s *talked* about, but by who and with whom?
I know. I was pointing out that it was a bad analogy because I don’t think Foucault was quite saying what she thought he was saying. Julie’s original point was good (that the author of this book was making a false claim) but she compaired it with what I think is an inaccurate reading of Foucault. Really, its a quibble in a good post. I’m just a big old theory nerd who has read waaaay too much Foucault.
I don’t understand the criticism of Nalebuff’s hope that her book will start a dialogue. Isn’t that what the editors and contributors of Yes Means Yes hope for? What Betty Friedan hoped for when she wrote The Feminine Mystique? The list goes on. I realize Friedan did a massive amount of research and scholarship for her books so it’s not a perfect analogy, but are we to dismiss someone’s work because it’s for sale? Most of the contributers to Yes Means Yes run free blogs, yet they are selling a book. Why is that? At least in part because there is value in the format.
I don’t understand why you think this is different than it is when other authors do the same thing.
Which is not at all to say that mothers shouldn’t take on any role in this, or that starting your period isn’t a fascinating rite of passage,
Well heck, if you won’t say it, I will. Starting your period isn’t a fascinating rite of passage.
Now that I am well into adulthood, of course, it’s a crazy hormonal trainride that I look forward to every month and expect to miss when it’s gone. But it took many years before it got to be that much fun. And if my mother had decided to make it her business to have a “role” in what came out of (or went into, for that matter) my vagina, I would have run away from home and never looked back. Good God.
Incidentally, this book review is one of the best things I’ve read on Feministe in practically forever.
Now I’m a white middle-class woman in her forties who feels absolutely comfortable about talking about my period with other women,
This is not targeted only at you, I would like to say this to every woman who feels the same way, which is a lot of them: Could you maybe consider affording those lucky other women the same basic courtesy and sense of boundaries you offer the men in your life? Friends can talk about whatever friends want, I do not think any topics are out of bounds there, but your female co-workers and acquaintances should not have to suffer from the fact that men are much more assertive, generally, in speaking up when boundaries have been crossed. The fact that women will sit there and smile and nod to be polite does not mean they are really interested in hearing about everyone else’s period. There is a difference between private and shameful. Having your period is no more shameful than blowing your nose, but talking about the detailed mechanics or sensations of either one is frowned upon for good reasons as well as bad ones. If you really want to do it for feminist effect–which I support–for goodness’ sake save it for the guys who’ve never heard it before and cut the women a break. But stop favoring delicate male sensibilities over female ones.
I don’t remember where I read about the book before but what really struck me was that they put some sort of trigger in it for the guys. Something along the lines of “if you’re male you may stop reading here”. In a review of a book! While I’m not sure I want to know how other girls had their first period, wouldn’t it be a good idea for men to get to grips with what women go through? And it was only a review, not even the actual book…
Mine was absolutely unremarkable. Went to our bathroom, saw the spot, decided to get a sanitary napkin, went to my mom (ok, that was awkward) and told her about it.
Most of my college-friends were male, but were mostly medical students or fellow biologists, so talking about my periods was never really much of a problem. Admittedly they did sometimes object to the level of detail I went into, but I thought it was reasonable, especially if they were nagging me to go to the bar with them and I could just tell them I’d be spending the evening with hot water bottle, knees drawn up to chin in foetal position, loudest metal music i had blasting into my ears and taking the strongest painkillers the doctor would give me (finally got onto the Pill aged 20, and rarely need painkillers now. No way I’m coming off it until I want kids). My father also has no problem listening to long conversations about periods, but I guess with a wife and two daughters he must have lost any sensitivities he may once have had a long time ago, especially since he was the one who took my mother to hospital with suspected appendicitis that turned out to be the cramps returning several years after pregnancy.
Incidentally, is it a general problem with serious menstrual pain that doctors will often refuse to diagnose it as such (for A&E/ER diagnoses rather than GP/primary physician)? The ‘appendicitis’ incident went down as ‘constipation’ on my mother’s medical notes, and my sister has variously been diagnosed with indigestion and IBS.
SoE, that was the review in the New York Times that advised men to stop reading and go do something manly like toss a ball around. Seriously. I think it was meant to be cute but it so wasn’t.
The book itself says nothing like that. It’s clear that women and girls are the intended audiences, but there’s no “warning! guys go away”.
Sophonisba, just because something isn’t pleasant doesn’t mean it’s not fascinating or a rite of passage.
Also, yeah, sorry, but I think that when an adult woman has a girl in her life (especially if it’s her daughter or someone she takes on a similar role with), I kinda think there is a certain degree of responsibility to acknowledge that periods exist, help the girl to prepare, be supportive, etc. There is a role to fill there, just like I’m sure there’s stuff that goes on between fathers and sons around male rites of passage. And just as there are various supporting roles to fill in other important milestones and rites of passage. We don’t go through life as isolated islands. I think it’s important to acknowledge that human culture exists and is legitimate.
I’m not entirely happy with the way my mom handled my period, but I think it would have been worse if she’d said nothing and allowed me to think I was bleeding internally until I took it upon myself to make a research project of it.
was anyone else just totally disappointed?
it had be very over-hyped – getting my period would “mean i was now a woman” (prolly doesn’t help that my entire family is pagan…)
was i a woman? i was twelve
hell, i’m 32 now and i sometimes STILL don’t feel like an adult.
also, my periods are NEVER fun. i cramp like hell, i have fibromalgia and so i have EXTRA pain, i had 4 hip surgeries over the summer, and THAT hurts. i do EVERYTHING I CAN to not have periods. its why i’m on the Neuva Ring (instead of Implanon) beause i can leave that sucker in and never have a period :)
except now, instead of pain i get that emotional rollarcoaster. trust me, i’d rather cry than hurt more, but i NEVER used tp PMS aside from pain.
What should be informative in these stories is the various cultures that influence these children/adults. For instance, my Mom would NEVER talk of sex in any regard (PERIOD or KISSING) when we were curious. Was this because she was a ‘dye in the wool’ Catholic? Or because she was raped when she was in her teens and she was ashamed because her faith? This I think is what needs to be explored. Not the first time stories, but the why.
For instance, my sister was totally ashamed of becoming a woman, boobs and the lot, why? Because the boys made fun of her breast size and she equated that with having her period.
sophonisba: If I am ever working in the same office as you, I will bear in mind your delicate female sensibilities and not say why I need a painkiller, because obviously it would be just awful for you were I to say “Cramps.”
Also, I’m with Jesu.
If you’re so delicate that you can’t handle hearing someone say, “man, I’ve got killer cramps today,” we’re unlikely to get along generally, so y’know, whatevs…
Could you maybe consider affording those lucky other women the same basic courtesy and sense of boundaries you offer the men in your life?
I, for one, love it when other women talk to me about their periods. It’s something instantly relatable. I probably don’t want to hear about the huge blood clot you examined this morning, but talking about cramps or discomfort is something so many women can relate to.
One of my fondest memories was when I was helping staff a high school event, and a woman I had just met told me she had just found out she was actually allergic to her period. The fluctuation in hormones caused a sinus reaction or something. We totally bonded over that, and it was really fun working with her. If it hadn’t been for that comment, we probably would have just made awkward small talk and felt uncomfortable around each other.
Safiya — thanks! Sadly the credit goes to Voltaire and not me.
I haven’t read the book, but have been wondering if I should order it. Your review, Julie, makes me think that perhaps I should spend my money elsewhere – although I agree with Renee, et al, when they say that this subject matter is still important and worthwhile.
I would like to comment on this, though:
My previous comment – which is in moderation – is an example of blockquote fail. *blushing*
Wait, no – I phrased that wrong. Do you remember your first annoying classmate who wouldn’t shut up about her period? You know, the one who liked to shout “VAGINA!” just to see people’s reactions?
Why are you snarking on this on a feminist website? Do you like saying the same shit about The Vagina Monologues? Why all the hate on this woman? Don’t buy her book already since you are so eye-rollingly-O-V-E-R talking about PERIODS already.
You criticize her for curating a narrow sample of period stories by implying that everyone should have your attitude about periods.
The vitriol in this post is intensely disproportionate to its ostensible subject. It’s too early in the morning for this level of headdesky haterade.
Just because the subject and spirit behind the book is good doesn’t mean it’s a good book. Because it’s not. I think that the review was brutally honest for a reason: just because something’s about women and being posted on a feminist website doesn’t mean we should love it. We should hold it to a higher standard because we want to be represented as well as possible.
I’m a comic book nerd, but I don’t automatically love all comic book movies. I want to see comic book movies done right. And as a woman, I want to see a book celebrating periods done right too. The introduction alone made me feel like the editor was condescending and I’m not sure who this book is meant for. Is it meant for adults like me so that we can talk about something that, according to the author, I haven’t talked about enough because I’m not as progressive as she is? Is it really meant for 9-year-olds? How can they contribute to the “revolutionary dialogue” that the editor wants to start?
I think this book was a good idea but poorly executed.
“Having your period is no more shameful than blowing your nose, but talking about the detailed mechanics or sensations of either one is frowned upon for good reasons as well as bad ones.”
If you’re so delicate that you can’t handle hearing someone say, “man, I’ve got killer cramps today,” we’re unlikely to get along generally, so y’know, whatevs…
I didn’t understand that to mean “never NEVER admit that you are cramping!” so much as “please don’t assume every woman wants to hear the details of your biological functions.” Which is fair enough in my opinion, and really applies to any biological function. I don’t want the gory details of your bowel movements, battles with earwax or your pregnancy either, unless I specifically ask. :p
Personally I don’t mind women talking about their own periods (with minimal detail ideally–thanks, but I know what they are and I don’t really need color swatches…) but I *hate* it when friends or family feel free to discuss *my* period without invitation. I want the final say in when my body is being discussed, thank you very much.
Do you remember your first annoying classmate who wouldn’t shut up about her period?
The classmate I hated was the one who wouldn’t shut up about *my* period. I was on the early side and apparently she had period envy so she cheerfully discussed *mine* with everyone in the 4th grade… 9.9
Me again. After some thought–not to mention reading all these posts–I have concluded, that yes, she has a right to sell her dang book–it wasn’t as if I favored censorship–and it will be harder for anyone to commodify our lives and sell them back to us after we have learned to talk and think about them honestly.
I am still not into body functions, and would rather not hear about them–anyone’s–without prior get-out-of-town warning. But I also think it is utterly hypocritical, or something, to act like one sex’s this and that are funny and the other sex’s this and that are gross. What’s good for the gander, etc. If this book will help straighten that out, good.
My own story was unremarkable. I had been briefed ahead of time, a mixture of cold-and clinical and flowery-little-booklet–and told Mom and that was it. I had just gotten into one of the seasonal fascinations-with-something-else I was prone to then, and I sometimes wondered if that was what brought the periods on then, though now I don’t think so.
Now here is a story. Years after periods were over, I had arm cramps, and went to the cramp relief section of the store, where I had not been before. Picking up one box, I checked to see what the secret ingredient was that made it different from aspirin etc. There was none! It was just ordinary over-the-counter-stuff at a higher price! What a scam! Now there should be a book about that!
Karen: Is it really meant for 9-year-olds? How can they contribute to the “revolutionary dialogue” that the editor wants to start?
What, now we’re being ageist about 9-year-olds?
Also, 9-year-olds grow up. And don’t get all “oh, missy, don’t tell me you’re having your period, my delicate sensibilities will not bear it!” when their friends say “I have killer cramps this morning and thank GOD I’m wearing black jeans…”
Jesurgislac: What, now we’re being ageist about 9-year-olds?
9-year-olds may not be having their period yet, though given the current state of hormonally-enhanced food altering our maturity rates it’s certainly common, but my understanding is that they would not be able to “continue the dialogue” of first-period stories, as encouraged to by the author. Because they haven’t had them yet.
My point being that I hadn’t thought that 9-year-olds were the target audience of this book, since I didn’t see this as a “what’s happening to my body” book for girls. And sure, maybe I’m wrong on that.
But I still hope that your post isn’t seriously accusing me of being ageist because that is ridiculous. I can already feel Godwin’s law beginning to work it’s magic.
I didn’t understand that to mean “never NEVER admit that you are cramping!” so much as “please don’t assume every woman wants to hear the details of your biological functions.”
Maybe I just know a weird bunch of people, but I know approximately 1 person who goes on and on to a TMI level about her period. “Talk about your own bodily functions within reason” is not really something I feel I need to throw out there very often, as the vast majority of adults in my life seem to already be aware of it. And the folks in my life who are overly prone to TMI are mostly guys, anyway.
My “approximately one” person is an aunt of mine who is unusually talkative about periods, but she never gets to a disgusting level about it – just anecdotes about the time she left her keeper at her very conservative brother-in-law’s house, stuff like that. The fact that “approximately one potential oversharer” = person who acknowledges the existence of periods is telling.
Karen — I don’t think the posts here that caution about erecting (no pun int) higher standards for women than men are saying the author’s execution of her topic cannot be critiqued. I think that’s totally valid. But the aspects of the review that talk about the price and the enthusiastic marketing hyperbole being offensive when these are par for the male course are problematic, IMO. Similarly with her suggesting people haven’t talked about something that has been a topic of a few books. It’s still OK to point out there remains a stigma. That procedural analysis does fall under the category of what appears to be a double standard.
On the substantive side, any failure to execute is certainly fair game.
I think I derive a weird kind of satisfaction from watching men get nudged to talk about periods more openly. I’m a nude model at my own art school and whenever I hear other art students talking “soandso model had a TAMPON STRING visible!” I’ll be like “Where was she supposed to hide it, exactly?” I walked into one session and must have looked as exhausted as I felt because one of the male students asked, “Oh, are you sick, too?” and I said, “Nah, just menstruating” and his face turned bright red. The teacher laughed. The fact that he could comfortably draw me naked every week but couldn’t deal with the fact that my body was still a body was odd to me, indeed…
Comments on this entry are closed.