Blog of the Society for Menstrual Cycle Research
From now on, I’m going to refer to periods as “monthly Balkan dance parties”, just because Philebrity magazine told me not to. Seriously, that’s at least as good as “Communists in the fun house” and “rebooting the ovarian operation system”. (For more, see Harry Finley’s list at the Museum of Menstruation.)
London newspaper The Telegraph reports on the development of a new medical treatment for dysmenorrhea, or painful periods. The article contains very little information about the new pill — most of the article describes the variety of misery some women experience with menstruation. The only information about the new medication is that the drug blocks vasopressin, a hormone involved in regulating uterine contractions and thus a cause of menstrual cramping.
But I was struck by this sentence in the second paragraph:
But now [women with painful periods] might no longer have to soldier on stoically after researchers have developed a pill which could put an end to the root cause of their discomfort.
See that? Women with cramps aren’t whiners or crybabies or just making excuses. They’re hard-working troupers who soldier on stoically despite being miserable.
Guest Post by David Linton, Manhattan Marymount CollegeA short item in the February 2010 issue of Harper’s Magazine captures, yet again, how nervous some folks are about any mention of matters menstrual. The piece referred to the publication of a list of words and terms that were blacklisted from use in crossword puzzles and other word games by a British computer program called Crossword Compiler.
Among the partial list of problematic terms, along with others such as bollocksing, bonk, clitoridectomy, fanny, nooky, ruttish, sapphic, sexy and shtup, was the word “catamenial.” This rather arcane term is one of the more obscure references to the period, more likely to appear in medical or, surprisingly, broadcasting documents.
For the first 25 years of commercial TV’s existence in the US, the National Association of Broadcasters specifically banned the advertising of feminine sanitary products. It was not until 1972 that the ban was lifted and a year later, 1973, the first mention of the menstrual cycle appeared in a ground breaking episode of All in the Family.
Once the ban was lifted, strict rules were put in place. Network “standards and practices” guidelines detailed how and when menstrual products could be advertised using the most non-colloquial language they could find. For example, NBC’s “Personal Products Advertising Guidelines” included a sub-category labeled “Catamenial Devices and Panty Shields,” and ABC used a similar phrase, “Catamenial Devices, Panty Shields, Douche Products”
Use of this Greek derivative (meaning to occur periodically) captures the sense of mystery and semantic evasion characteristic of the way menstruation is commonly discussed. It is noteworthy that the guidelines issued by ABC, CBS and NBC all avoided any use of the more common terms, menstruation and period. Furthermore, the most common generic terms used to apply to the products themselves are also avoided. Nowhere in the network guidelines is there a reference to pads, napkins or tampons.
Not only is the language of the network advertising guidelines sanitized (so to speak), but the rules for ad content insured that the ads themselves would be similarly discrete. In this regard, the most important rule was that men have no significant presence in the ads. The NBC guidelines stated that, “Use of mixed social situations is limited to incidental appearances.” CBS insisted that “Sexual themes are unacceptable.” ABC agreed that, “The use of either children or mixed social situations in advertising is acceptable when incidental and unrelated to the product.”
The rise of cable TV has altered the menstrual landscape considerably, yet evasions continue to prevail. As I type this observation, my spell check repeatedly underlines the word “catamenial” in red, and when I ask what the preferred spelling is I learn that it is “cat menial,” whatever that could possibly mean. So here’s an invitation to re:Cycling readers. If the folks at Crossword Compiler decide to rescind their ban, what crossword clue would you suggest as an appropriate one for the word catamenial?
Image from Illustrated Encyclopedia of Sex, 1950, Cadillac Publishing Company
Cross-posted at Wonders & Marvels
While the uterus is a remarkable part of a woman’s anatomy—it can house a growing baby, then shrink back to its original size, work month after month for 40 or so years regenerating its lining, keeping hormones in check—it is part of a greater whole.
But ancient Egyptians believed the uterus was a free-floating, independent, autonomous organ that wandered the body, its traveling ways causing all sorts of mental and physical maladies, disturbing and disrupting women from the inside out. A visit upward created respiratory issues, with anxiety thrown in, too much movement down south—intestinal distress.
To combat these problems doctors tried solutions at both ends, either feeding noxious substances to women, hoping to force the uterus away from the lungs and throat, or placing sweet smelling substances on the vulva, trying to coax the errant traveler back into place. Another solution? Marriage. Actually, sex. But, back then, sex alone was not prescribed by doctors as a viable treatment.
The ancient Greeks also blamed the female-centric organ for everything from seizures to depression. Their word for uterus, hystera, is the root of both hysterical and hysteria. From the beginning of recorded history, hysterical behavior—out of control emotions, irrational fears, unregulated, over-the-top conduct—was associated with women, the uterus the epicenter of blame. In fact, for centuries, a hysterectomy, or removal of the uterus, was thought to cure emotional instability, as well as a host of other unrelated symptoms.
Hysteria was a medical diagnosis in the United States until 1951. 1952? The term PMS was coined, a catchall diagnosis that picked up where hysteria left off. And while people no longer believe the uterus has a mind of its own, it’s still used as the hapless scapegoat for countless unexplainable symptoms.
Elissa Stein’s latest book, with Susan Kim, is Flow: The Cultural Story of Menstruation
The land of euphemisms is a fantasy land. It is awash in pink. It never rains. The houses are made of gingerbread and the clouds of cotton candy. Look! There goes My Little Pony!
It is a safe and happy place that keeps us innocent and pure. Wait? Was that Strawberry Shortcake?
That MUST be the reason the cultural mandate of using euphemisms to describe body parts and bodily functions persists, right?
Don’t forget to wash your private parts, honey!
But I DON’T think we are safer when we refuse to use REAL words to describe our REAL bodies.
Rather, as a big believer of the language-constructs-reality school of thought, I think that refusing to call a vulva a vulva contributes to the dissociation at best, and neglect and even hatred, at worst, of our bodies.
Name it. Own it. Understand it. Respect it.
The Vagina Monologues leads with a hysterical list of expressions for the vulva (NOT the vagina, as we know).
In Great Neck, they call it a pussycat. A woman there told me that her mother used to tell her, “Don’t wear panties underneath your pajamas, dear; you need to air out your pussycat.” In Westchester they called it a pooki, in New Jersey a twat. There’s “powderbox,” “derrière,” a “poochi,” a “poopi,” a “peepe,” a “poopelu,” a “poonani,” a “pal” and a “piche,” “toadie,” “dee dee,” “nishi,” “dignity,” “monkey box,” “coochi snorcher,” “cooter,” “labbe,” “Gladys Siegelman,” “VA,” “wee wee,” “horsespot,” “nappy dugout,” “mongo,” a “pajama,” “fannyboo,” “mushmellow,” a “ghoulie,” “possible,” “tamale,” “tottita,” “Connie,” a “Mimi” in Miami, “split knish” in Philadelphia, and “schmende” in the Bronx.
This list worried Eve Ensler. It worries me too.
Same goes for menstruation, of course. Funny thing, some of these expressions are actually more graphic, bloodier, and more RAW than just saying MENSTRUATION. I mean: “Massacre at the Y?” ” Carrie at the Prom?” So much creative energy goes into NOT saying the words that describe what we have and what it does. Imagine if that energy was channeled into developing body literacy?
Isn’t the shortest distance between two points a straight line?
So when someone takes on one of my pet peeve euphemisms for (I am gonna say it: PUBIC HAIR–which apparently NO decent woman wants to admit she has, but that’s another post), I cheer.
One for the team! One baby step closer to being honest about our bodies and refusing to play the shame game.
Enter Sarah Haskins; she is one of my superSheros. While her analyses are often obvious, she does the work and for that she earns my adoration. She finds the material, and by that I mean, rampant gender assumption-laden advertising, and knits the clips together into a side-splitting package that stirs up a good girlcott or two (or should). And there’s so much HERE…even more than Sarah gets into in her short bit (like the afro and the bonsai tree? Oh PUULEEZ!)
I taught both of my daughters to call their vulvas, well, their VULVAS and I RELISH it when someone in a public bathroom overhears my six-year old shout from her stall, “Almost done, Momma, I just need to wipe my vulva.”
Even better when she walks into the bathroom while I am changing my pad and she declares: “OH Momma! You are menstruating!”
Another one for the team.
