Abstract
Menstruation has long been taboo, stigmatized, and dirty in many societies. Ritual baths or physical segregation are part of many world religions, all of which result from beliefs about women being “unclean” during their periods. Medical sciences in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries promoted a popular (and medically unfounded) idea that menstrual blood contained a toxin “that could cause anything from withering of flowers to asthma and colic” (p. 21). The contemporary menstrual hygiene industry makes scented pads to mask unwanted (read “dirty”) odors of menstruation, and “cycle-stopping” contraceptives are more popular than ever. However, these ideas are not universally accepted. For example, an increasing number of cities and countries are making free menstrual products available in schools and public toilets.
In Menstrual Dirt, Josefin Persdotter gets up close and personal with the bloody, sticky, slimy realities of menstruation. The author—also a menstrual artist and activist—draws her analysis from a combination of life history interviews, participant diaries (written and photo), survey data, and content analysis of ephemera, such as advertising for menstrual products and public reports. She conceptualizes “menstrual dirt” as a combination of embodied and material experiences: clotted blood swirling down the drain; the bodily odors associated with menstruation; persistent staining of clothing and menstrual cups; sticky pubic hair clumped together with blood; and the environmental consequences of pads and tampons showing up in water treatment facilities. Dirt, the author argues, belies a site of power. What a society deems disgusting, pollutant, or disposable provides insight into “social attributions of value” and therefore hierarchies and social systems are revealed (p. 25).
Menstrual dirt makes systems of gender inequalities visible. Sweden, a country with high levels of quantitatively measurable gender equality, is a site where menstruation is also a greater part of public discourse compared with other European countries. However, several participants in Persdotter’s research report feeling disgusting or ashamed of their menstruating bodies—feelings that are especially heightened around “menstrusmells” (smells associated with menstruation)—and worry about being ostracized socially if others could smell their bodies.
Embodied menstrual dirt, one form examined by Persdotter, refers to that which is close to the body. Fears of leaks and stains are described by participants as something in the past, a faded memory of anxiety-inducing pubescence. Those who talk about stains in the present describe them more as a practical nuisance that requires washing bedding or taking extra showers. Participants perceive using pads as dirtier than cups or tampons and vividly describe the stickiness of dried blood pulling on their pubic hair and pain of chafing pads. They also describe feeling unclean when using pads, leading to elaborate “purification rituals” involving showers, bidets, wet toilet paper or wipes, and boiling menstrual cups in pasta pots.
While embodied dirt is up close and personal, material dirt focuses on the need that participants feel to conceal menstrual waste from the view of others and the environmental consequences of doing so. Rolling pads in toilet paper or wrappers, disposal in waste bins underneath other trash to conceal used pads from view, and flushing menstrual products down the toilet were all described as important mechanisms for concealing menstrual dirt from others. By 2015, flushing products down the toilet became enough of an environmental issue that Gothenberg City Council and the regional wastewater plant launched a campaign to educate the public about how removing debris from the wastewater impeded water treatment processes.
Methodologically, I appreciated the Persdotter’s attention to detail when it came to cross-lingual research. Persdotter deftly weaves Swedish words and phrases into the text. For English readers, this does not disrupt the flow of the book, but for Swedish readers, it provides an extra layer of depth—and sometimes humor—to the analysis. I found myself smiling at the amusement and wonder with which interviewees described the tactile qualities of menstruation in wonderfully creative Swedish terms. I also enjoyed that Persdotter included the interview schedule in the original Swedish at the back of the book. I would like to see more scholarly monographs that capture the original language of the research because it only strengthens the integrity of research and writing processes.
The analytical sections of the book are divided into four chapters, two on pads (embodied and material) and two on menstrual cups (embodied and material). This could have been condensed either by device (pad/cup) or by analytical category (embodied/material) to make the text less redundant for readers. That said, the author’s accessible and engaging writing style makes the book suitable for undergraduate- or graduate-level courses and her analysis touches on a wide range of topics: gender, bodies, environment, and/or medicine. It is also a great example of how to effectively weave two languages together in cross-lingual research, which could be useful for qualitative methods courses.