It Took Us This Long to Understand Periods
Why are we still debating whether menstruation is a legitimate reason to rest?
We have sent humans into space.
We have mapped the human genome, developed artificial intelligence, performed organ transplants and built machines capable of doing things that would have seemed impossible a few generations ago.
And yet, when it comes to something as ordinary as menstruation, humanity still seems to be catching up.
Every month, billions of people experience menstruation. And for many of them, it isn't simply a few days of bleeding.
It can mean cramps that make it difficult to stand, headaches, nausea, diarrhoea, back pain, fatigue, heavy bleeding and a profound sense of exhaustion. For some, the pain can be severe enough to interfere with everyday life.
The World Health Organization estimates that around 2.1 billion women and adolescent girls menstruate worldwide, and says that more than two in three experience pain with menstrual bleeding. It also acknowledges that menstruation can affect physical, psychological and social well-being.
And yet, somehow, menstruation is still expected to remain invisible.
You can be in pain—but don't show it.
You can be bleeding—but don't mention it.
You can be exhausted—but don't let it affect your work.
You can need a break—but don't call it a period.
Perhaps the most remarkable thing about menstruation isn't that women experience it every month. It's how long society has expected them to experience it silently.
We learnt about menstruation before we learnt to talk about it
For generations, menstruation has been surrounded by myths, restrictions, embarrassment and silence.
Girls have grown up learning to hide sanitary products while walking to the bathroom. They have whispered the word "period" as if saying it aloud might make something shameful more real.
And many boys grew up without being taught much about menstruation at all.
That silence has consequences.
When something as fundamental as menstruation isn't discussed openly, misinformation fills the gap. Pain becomes something to tolerate rather than investigate. Heavy bleeding becomes something to hide rather than seek medical advice for. And conditions that can cause debilitating menstrual symptoms may go unrecognised for years.
This is why the WHO has increasingly framed menstruation not merely as a hygiene issue, but as a health, dignity and human-rights issue. Menstrual health includes access to information, products, sanitation, appropriate healthcare and the ability to participate fully in education, work and society without shame or discrimination.
That shift in language matters.
Because menstruation was never merely about pads and tampons.
It has always been about health, dignity and participation.
We normalised the pain instead of questioning it
There is an uncomfortable contradiction in the way society talks about periods.
We call menstruation "normal."
And because it is normal, we sometimes assume that everything associated with it must also be normal.
But something being common does not mean that every experience of it is harmless or should simply be endured.
Mild discomfort and debilitating pain are not the same thing.
A person who experiences severe menstrual symptoms may struggle to concentrate, move around, sleep or perform routine activities. Some menstrual disorders can cause symptoms that substantially interfere with daily life.
Yet women are often told some version of:
"Periods happen every month. You'll get used to it."
But the body doesn't become immune to pain simply because the pain is recurring.
We would not tell someone experiencing recurring migraines to simply "get used to it."
We would not tell someone with a chronic condition that because it happens regularly, they should stop complaining.
So why have we historically treated menstrual pain differently?
Perhaps because women have been expected to endure it quietly for so long that endurance itself became the standard.
The woman who is "fine"
There is a particular kind of strength society has come to expect from women.
The ability to keep functioning while uncomfortable.
To keep working while exhausted.
To attend class while cramping.
To attend meetings while bleeding.
To take care of a household while feeling unwell.
To smile when someone asks, "Are you okay?"
And perhaps the most troubling part is that we often celebrate this ability.
We call women strong because they continued despite the pain.
But maybe strength shouldn't have to mean pretending the pain doesn't exist.
Maybe a better society isn't one where women become better at hiding their discomfort.
Maybe it is one where they don't have to.
Then came the menstrual-leave debate
The debate around menstrual leave has become increasingly visible around the world.
Some countries have introduced legal provisions related to menstrual leave or menstrual incapacity, while others leave the matter to individual employers. South Korea, for example, has a statutory provision allowing a female employee one day of menstrual leave per month upon request.
Spain took a different approach.
In 2023, it introduced a legal framework recognising incapacitating secondary menstruation as a special situation of temporary incapacity. The law specifically refers to menstruation associated with diagnosed conditions such as endometriosis, adenomyosis, fibroids and other pathologies.
That distinction is important.
Because menstrual leave doesn't necessarily have to mean:
"Every woman gets one extra holiday every month."
It can instead mean:
"When menstruation causes a genuine health problem that prevents someone from working, the system recognises that problem."
That is a very different conversation.
But isn't menstrual leave unfair?
This is where the discussion becomes complicated.
One argument against mandatory menstrual leave is that it could unintentionally reinforce the idea that women are less reliable employees.
An employer might think twice before hiring a woman if they believe she will require additional leave.
That concern is not entirely unreasonable.
And women shouldn't have to choose between acknowledging their biological reality and being perceived as competent professionals.
So perhaps the solution isn't simply to create another category of leave and declare the problem solved.
Perhaps we need to think more carefully about workplace flexibility, privacy and medical accommodation.
A woman shouldn't have to announce to an entire office that she is menstruating.
She shouldn't have to prove her pain to colleagues.
She shouldn't be treated as less ambitious or less capable because she occasionally needs accommodation.
And menstrual policies should not become another mechanism through which employers discriminate against women.
The goal should be equity without stigma.
India is still having this conversation
India's debate over menstrual leave illustrates just how complicated this issue is.
In March 2026, the Supreme Court considered a plea seeking a nationwide policy on menstrual leave. The discussion raised concerns about whether compulsory menstrual leave could have unintended consequences for women's participation and hiring in the workforce, while also recognising that menstrual-health concerns are matters that require policy consideration. The Court indicated that the issue was better addressed through government policy rather than by creating a nationwide mandate through judicial intervention.
And that leaves us with a difficult question:
If menstrual leave can potentially create discrimination, does that mean we should ignore the underlying need for accommodation?
I don't think so.
The possibility of discrimination is an argument for designing better policy—not for pretending the problem doesn't exist.
Because women are already working through menstruation.
The question isn't whether periods affect people.
They do.
The question is whether workplaces are willing to acknowledge that reality.
Menstrual leave is not the whole solution
It is tempting to believe that giving women a day off every month would solve the problem.
It won't.
What about the girl who misses school because she doesn't have access to menstrual products?
What about the woman working in an environment without a clean, private toilet?
What about someone who cannot afford menstrual products?
What about the woman with severe menstrual pain who has never been properly evaluated?
What about the employee who technically has access to menstrual leave but is too embarrassed to use it?
What about women working in informal employment, where taking a day off can mean losing a day's income?
Menstrual health is much bigger than leave.
The WHO estimates that around 500 million people who menstruate lack access to adequate menstrual materials and appropriate facilities, based on available data.
So the conversation has to include education, affordability, sanitation, healthcare, workplace dignity and freedom from stigma.
A pad in a bathroom is not menstrual healthcare.
And a day of leave is not menstrual equality.
Both can be part of the solution—but neither is the entire solution.
We need to stop making women prove that they are in pain
Perhaps one of the strangest things about the menstrual-leave debate is how quickly the conversation turns into a question of whether women are "really" suffering enough to deserve it.
How much pain is legitimate?
How many days are acceptable?
Should there be a medical certificate?
Should every woman get it?
What if someone abuses the policy?
But we rarely ask the equivalent question in other areas of healthcare:
"How much illness is enough illness before we believe you?"
Of course, workplaces need reasonable systems.
But dignity should be part of those systems too.
A person shouldn't have to publicly disclose an intimate biological process to justify being unwell.
And women shouldn't have to apologise for something their bodies have been doing for thousands of years.
Perhaps equality doesn't mean pretending biology doesn't exist
There is a popular idea that equality means treating everyone exactly the same.
But equal treatment and equitable treatment aren't always identical.
Imagine two people standing in the rain.
Giving both of them an umbrella is not "special treatment" for the person who was getting wetter.
It is recognising that they have different needs.
Likewise, acknowledging a biological reality does not automatically make someone less capable.
Women don't need society to lower its expectations of them.
They need society to stop pretending that their bodies don't exist.
They can be ambitious and exhausted.
Professional and in pain.
Strong and in need of rest.
Capable and human.
These things can coexist.
We have come a long way. But perhaps not far enough.
It is easy to look back at older generations and wonder how societies could have believed menstruation was something dirty or shameful.
But perhaps future generations will look back at us and wonder something similar.
They may ask:
"You knew menstruation could be painful. You knew it affected education and work. You knew stigma existed. So why did it take you so long to change the system?"
Maybe that is the uncomfortable question we need to sit with.
The world doesn't need to treat menstruation as an illness.
It needs to stop treating menstruation as an inconvenience that women are expected to hide.
It needs better education.
Better healthcare.
Better workplace policies.
Better sanitation.
Affordable menstrual products.
And, perhaps most importantly, a culture in which saying "I'm having a difficult period today" doesn't require an apology.
Because menstruation is not a weakness.
Rest is not laziness.
Pain is not a lack of resilience.
And asking for accommodation is not asking for an unfair advantage.
Women have spent generations learning how to work around their bodies.
Maybe it is time we built workplaces—and a world—that learned how to work with them.
And perhaps menstrual leave isn't the final answer.
Perhaps it is simply one small indication that we are finally beginning to ask the right question:
What would the world look like if women didn't have to hide what their bodies go through in order to be taken seriously?