Periods in South Asian Culture
Periods. Every person with a uterus in my contact book – perhaps every single person with a uterus on the planet – despises them. They’re messy, painful, and agonising – some ordeals come with extra details uncalled for: from migraines to vomiting episodes. Nonetheless, despite it all, most people with uteruses– if not all – will experience the nerve-wracking feeling of bleeding once a month as our biological system plans to do so.
So, why do South Asian people – in particular – treat it as something to be embarrassed about?
As a British Muslim Pakistani woman, I was brought up in a traditional family with a conservative mindset. Yes, I didn’t talk to boys nor did I make friends with them. I didn’t have boyfriends as my other friends did. I’ve never been clubbing, never drank, or smoked in my life as my faith and culture expected. Despite that, I was lucky when my mother had a conversation with me about periods and what to do during a situation if I started. However, much later, I’ve come across horrible stories where many people have never even come across the term ‘periods’ (unless it was referring to a school lesson).
One of my friends – Nina, and this isn’t her real name – spoke to me about her very first period and the tumultuous feelings that came along with the ordeal.
“I remembering just taking a trip to the loo like I always do,” she begins, taking a shaky breath (this was over the phone due to the current lockdown), “I looked down and saw a couple of drops of blood and immediately, I thought that’s strange so I took a tissue to have a swipe and saw a spot as big as my fist on there.
“I remember the air feeling so hot, so suffocating. I didn’t know what to do. I thought I was dying,” I heard her sniff at this point. “I felt so frightened that I just screamed. I screamed for my mother to come and help”.
Naturally, her mother ran to her rescue but laughed and shrugged her shoulders when Nina explained what had happened.
“She said, ‘It happens to everyone. It’s not a big deal or something to worry about.“ Even though I felt relieved I was ok and apparently not dying, I did feel a level of anger and disappointment. It is a big deal even though it isn’t life-threatening”.
Nina’s story mirrors that of countless girls who have no knowledge whatsoever about their bodies and what will eventually happen to them. Any knowledge they receive is through Biology or PSHE lessons at school and those may be stopped if parents disapprove.
Another problem is how many people remain ignorant of female biology. As a Muslim woman, I fast thirty days of the year during Ramadan with the exception of a few days when I’m on my period. According to Islam, I’m unable to pray, fast or touch holy texts. Unable to fast, I switched back to my daily routine including food. This raised quite a few eyebrows when my male relatives were around (this was a decade ago). They asked if I was fasting and expectedly, I replied no. I expected them to stop there considering I was a young woman having a period but it didn’t stop there.
“Why are you not fasting?” they asked; confusion plastered all over their face.
I looked at my mum and back at them. “I’m not feeling well,” I replied. It wasn’t true, I realise now. Periods aren’t an illness.
“Why, what’s wrong?” they enquired further.
By now, the frustration was clear. I just made an excuse that I had a really bad stomach ache because I knew we never spoke about such matters. However, I still managed to get told off for not fasting and how God wouldn’t be pleased with me and my lack of attempts to fast. Go figure.
Now, being a young mother of a child (a daughter for that fact), I’ve promised myself to actually talk about the taboo topics in South Asian culture. I want my daughter to be proud of herself, proud of her body, and not embarrassed for the way her body works or explain herself to primitive men living in the Dark Ages.
Ladies, it’s ok we have periods. It’s ok to talk about it and know what’s expected. Many Muslim girls and women are reluctant even to use tampons because they’re afraid they will lose their virginity. In my faith, it’s imperative that Muslim girls remain virgins until they’re married. Only during my twenties, I realised that using tampons doesn’t compromise your virginity but more discussion around this topic is needed.
While my generation experienced the repercussions of a traditional society with a different mindset, there is hope with us that we can learn from those mistakes and perhaps plan a better future with the next generations where Muslim women won’t have to explain themselves why they’re not fasting or know what’s happening to them at the very least.
We’re not there yet but we will be soon.
Written by Aneka Chohan
Aneka works as a English teacher and as a freelance journalist based in West London. When she isn't writing or teaching, Aneka likes to pursue interests in arts, fashion, learning new languages, photography, and writing fictional stories and poetry.