We have to go and find some boyfriend, you know?
When you think about issues of global poverty, what comes to mind? Do you think of the photos of starving children from Africa? The homeless man who stands on the corner of the last intersection on your commute to work? All sorts of toxic waste filling rivers in India? Any other variation of lack of access to clean food or water, quality healthcare, affordable housing, or education?
Have you ever considered the young girl who can't afford food, water, let alone a pad or tampon when her period comes? Maybe yes? Probably no. It definitely was not a situation I thought about for the first four years I had a period, despite having an interest in poverty alleviation. Nor was it an issue that was written about in any of the textbooks I read while receiving my undergraduate degree in International Development, emphasizing sustainable development in the Global South. Not to worry —— the United Nations rarely even talks about "period poverty", let alone mention any synonym to the word "menstruation" or emphasize women and girls ever lacking access to adequate menstrual products within the Sustainable Development Goals. If they don't know or care to talk about it, why should you or I? So what if over 300 million individuals across the world are currently menstruating at this very moment?
When I was 16, I learned about a scenario where girls in an orphanage were forced to sit on cardboard squares in an isolated room. I couldn't help but continuously wonder about all of the additional struggles individuals go through on their periods when they are living in extreme poverty, especially as I considered my own experience of shoving tampons up my sleeve, taking an Ibuprofen, sitting in a bath, and occasionally laying by the toilet while waves of nausea flow for hours. Given that my period comes every month, it has become difficult to not consider my sisters across the globe. In November 2022, I arrived in Nairobi, Kenya to conduct a pilot research study to learn the stories and experiences of a person who menstruates in Kenya.
The interviews collected testaments of women and girls using all sorts of loose ends to absorb the blood for the duration of a period: washable rags, old blankets or clothing, bandanas, cotton wool, toilet paper, mattress filling, tampons, and pads. Women from Kawangware and Kibera explained they often used each product for a whole day, sometimes a whole week of bleeding. Some share with their sisters for a month. The products they use are determined by how absorbent and accessible they are. Pads are the most preferred, but often too expensive.
"So, where do you get pads? Is there a store in the slum you usually go to?"
"If we can afford them, yes. Sometimes we borrow from a friend, store owner, or a teacher. Or, we have to go and find some boyfriend, you know?"
"Oh, so you, like, get a boyfriend when your period starts because you're a 'woman' now? Something like that? I've heard about this somewhere..."
(everyone in the room laughed at me)
"Okay... so I guess I don't know. What do you mean, you have to get a boyfriend?"
"Well some girls, if they cannot afford, they have to give a man sex so he can give her a pad in return."
"WHAT?! Sorry, one pad? In return for sex?"
"Yes. Girls learn to do that when they get their periods. Sometimes they are only nine."
That conversation happened during my second focus group interview. It crushed me. As women continued to tell me anecdotal stories about friends or acquaintances they know to participate in this heartbreaking act of transactional sex, I became more determined to find out how common this was. Interview after interview brought more stories, testimonies, and data that resulted in a devastating 94.7% of women interviewed said they know someone who participates in transactional sex for pads. Included in this statistic were girls pregnant under 10 years of age who lived in their communities. Especially as these conversations flowed into women explaining how lack of affordable menstrual products can directly be correlated with STDs and child pregnancy, I found myself fuming with an aggressive disappointment in my lack of awareness of this prominent phenomenon. Why had nobody told me about this before? Why weren't there hundreds of peer-reviewed studies about this in my preliminary research scavenge? How come "GIRLS HAVE TO SELL THEIR BODIES FOR A SINGLE PAD!! AT A COST EQUIVALENT TO A GUMBALL!!" isn't on everybody's radar?
Even if it were only one story from one girl —— this is a tragedy worth investigating.
xx Akinyi
