Reprint: Tampax, Virginity, and Teaching the Body

I'm on hiatus -- at least from substantive blogging -- until August 28.  Until then, I'm reprinting favorite posts from 2004 and 2005.

I spent an hour and fifteen minutes in Tuesday's Women's Studies class lecturing  on masturbation, menstruation, and tampons.  (If that don't got your attention, don't know what will!)

As I've written before, much of my Women's History course focuses on shifting attitudes towards American women's bodies.  Tuesday, we spent a fair amount of time reviewing the 19th century panic about women's sexuality (spurred by the medical "discovery" of the clitoris by the medical profession). I blogged a year ago about some of the unhappy consequences of this panic over young women's masturbation.

We then connected to this to the history of, of all things, the tampon.  The modern tampon was patented in 1931 by a Dr. Earle Haas, who later sold the patent to what would become the Tampax company.  The first commercially marketed tampons appeared on the market five years later.

What does this have to do with women's sexuality?  One thing is at least anecdotally evident:  cultural background and openness about sexuality seems to play a critical role in whether or not young women begin to use tampons soon after menarche.  My Asian and Latina students (who comprise two-thirds of my female students) are extremely unlikely to have been encouraged to use tampons when they began to menstruate.  Most tell stories of mothers who insisted on pads, often claiming that the tampon was only to be used by women who had lost their virginity.  One gal shared that she began to use tampons when she was on the her high school dance team where the uniforms made them essential; she told of the horrified and amazed reactions of her friends, who were entirely Hispanic.  At the same time, "white girls" seemed much more likely to use tampons in early to mid-adolescence.  Many of these students are stunned when they hear the myths that their classmates from more culturally conservative backgrounds were raised with. 

This jives with the info in this 2000 Wall Street Journal article.  According to company figures:

While about 70% of women in the U.S., Canada and much of Western Europe use tampons, usage falls to the single digits in a handful of countries such as Japan and Spain, and it's not even measurable in much of the world. Just 2% of women in Mexico, as throughout most of Latin America, use tampons.

Those figures seem to match the ethnic disparity I see in my classroom. 

Religious and cultural taboos are a hurdle: There is a persistent myth in many countries, for example, that if a girl uses a tampon, she might lose her virginity. "Everywhere we go, women say `this is not for senoritas,' " says Silvia Davila, P&G's marketing director for Tampax Latin America. They're using the Spanish word for unmarried women as a modest expression for young virgins.

This concern crops up in countries that are predominantly Catholic, executives say. In Italy, for instance, just 4% of women use tampons. The Roman Catholic Church says it has no official position on tampons. Nonetheless, some priests have spoken out against the product, associating it with birth control and sexual activities that are forbidden by the Church. Indeed, Tampax faced objections from priests in the U.S. when it introduced tampons in 1936.

In many countries, women aren't accustomed to spending on themselves, particularly for something they'll throw out -- and that costs a bit more than pads. Women must also understand their bodies to use a tampon. P&G is finding that in countries where school health education is limited, that understanding is hard won. P&G marketers say they often find open boxes of tampons in stores -- a sign, P&G says, that women were curious about the product but unsure as to how it worked. (Bold emphasis is mine).

What I argue in my course is that tampon acceptance is linked to broader issues of acceptance of women's bodies.  The real threat of the tampon is not that it will take a girl's virginity!  Rather, it's that a woman who learns how to use it must of necessity gain some knowledge of how she works "down there."    Denying young girls access to tampons is a small but tangible way of keeping them ignorant of their own bodies. In that sense, I argue, cultural hostility to tampons can be linked to cultural hostility to female masturbation.   When a woman uses a tampon, she rejects the idea that her body is something of whose processes she ought to be unaware; when she masturbates, she discovers not only pleasure, she discovers that her body truly belongs to her.

I'm always careful to check in on the comfort level my students have when we talk about these things.  Discussion of masturbation and menstruation, clitorises and tampons can be overwhelming in any setting, even more so with a male college professor leading the class.  But by God, it's necessary!  One young woman wrote in her journal this week:  "It was a very interesting discussion.  I didn't know we had a clitoris, or knew it was a word.   I think it's a good thing to talk about."  (Emphasis mine.)  She's not the first to write something like that.  Remember, these are college students, but they come from many different backgrounds and many parts of the world.

I try and choose my words carefully.  I don't make assumptions or give direction to my students as to what they ought to do.  What kind of sanitary products to use, and whether to masturbate or not, are, of course highly personal decisions that should be made without professorial suggestion. Choosing a tampon over a pad is not an inherently feminist act.  One could also be a feminist and choose not to masturbate for spiritual reasons, a point I acknowledge. But ignorance and shame are never, ever congruent with the spirit of feminism.  They are the twin evils that we are struggling against.

But whatever our spiritual orientations, it's vital in gender studies that we teach the history of the body.   It's equally vital that we challenge our students' cultural and sexual assumptions, even if, on occasion, we need to acknowledge some embarrassment when we do so.  (I always say it's okay to laugh and it's okay to blush.)  Above all, I want my students to continue the conversations that we begin in class with their friends and with their family members.  On topics so sensitive (pun intended), the best discussions will happen in more intimate settings than the classroom.  It's my fervent hope that what we do in the class will stimulate many good cross-generational, cross-ethnic talks among women -- and men.

Originally posted March 24, 2005

Comments

[Technocracygirl]

One young woman wrote in her journal this week: "It was a very interesting discussion. I didn't know we had a clitoris, or knew it was a word. I think it's a good thing to talk about." (Emphasis mine.) She's not the first to write something like that. Remember, these are college students, but they come from many different backgrounds and many parts of the world.

I'm going to go a bit off-topic and offer a teaching aid if you'd like to use it, Hugo.

There's an all-volunteer organization called SFSI (San Francisco Sex Information). It's completely confidential and anonymous. You can either call during business hours (posted on the website) or email any sex-related question that you have, and someone will answer it. Now, when you don't know where to start, as in never even hearing of the word "clitoris," the service might not be applicable. But for your students who may have heard of something that they don't understand, or want more information about topic x, y, or z, it's not a bad resource.

[Hugo]

That's an excellent resource, and I'll pass it on. Thanks!

[BriBri]

Hugo, don't ban me for this, but I want to know why you always use the word "gals" for women. Have you blogged about it before? You used it once when I came to see you in office hours, and you use it all the time in your posts I notice. It doesn't seem consistent with your feminism at all. "Gals" to me sounds like "chicks", which is totally not feminist.

When I was in this class, by the way, I was so shocked by the stories of my classmates. I've used tampons since I "started" (age 12), as did most of my (white) friends growing up in Sierra Madre. It really is eye opening, and I am glad you spent so muich time on this taboo topic.

[Hugo]

I've dropped the "gals" more recently, Brianna. It's something I grew up with; my intent is to use it the same way folks use "guys". I've been called on it (Ginmar was quite forceful about it last year), and my more recent posts haven't contained it as often, though I may have slipped. I'll work on being better in office hours too! Mea culpa...

["Artemis"]

Hi there. I just had to respond to this post because this was something I talked about at length with my mother during my adolescence. I am first generation Korean-American, and my mother has told me stories of her youth that included no reproductive health education, whatsoever. She told me that menarche for her was in her early 20s; I can still hardly believe that, and she claims that she did not begin menstruating as a RESULT of this lack of education (I cannot see how those are correlated). She vehemently opposed my using tampons at such an early age, but I was a competitive swimmer. Since then, my choice for menstrual cycle protection has confused her even more. I fell in love with The Keeper years ago, and I have no desire to use anything else, especially since I am an avid cyclist and international and independent traveller.

By the way, I found your weblog through a former friend of mine, and I have always enjoyed reading it. Some people consider me as a non-traditional feminist, but I always enjoy discussing feminism, especially when tied to science and medicine.

[Hugo]

Thanks for the feedback, Artemis; I've heard many enthusiastic reviews of the Keeper.

Sorry that the friend who showed you my blog is now "former"!

[Starfoxy]

My mom always (rather derisively) equated putting on a tampon with masturbation. It wasn't just the knowledge one would have to have in order to use the tampon, it was the actual act of wearing one. I still can't get myself to seriously try wearing tampons even though I'm very familiar with my body.

[Anna]

I recognise that the point of your post is not really about whether or not to wear tampons; I just wanted to make the small remark that choosing to wear tampons or not is not quite in the same category as choosing to masturbate or not. There are non-personal reasons why young girls especially might not want to wear them, chief among these that (recalling personal experience and that of other friends) even mini sizes can be very uncomfortable for younger girls who hadn't yet had penetrative sex; if they don't know this then it could be a further source of anxiety to them abour their bodies (why is it hurting? what's wrong with me?) There is also the small chance of toxic shock which is not there with the pads.
Which of course is to say that I'm entirely with you about the necessity of making more information available to young women about their bodies.

Good luck with the book!

[Hugo]

Anna, outside of one bad outbreak a quarter century ago, there's no longer any serious risk of TSS from tampon use. I have no problem with those who find tampons personally uncomfortable (though some young girls may not be trying to use them correctly); I have a problem with a culture that refuses to accept "penetrative" methods of coping with menstrual flow. With tampons, you can still be on the swim team, for example -- there's no question that a "pads only" lifestyle is generally going to be more inhibiting to a young female athlete (see the comment from Artemis above.)

[Q Grrl]

Just to goad you a little, in a very playful way: I have problems with a society that insists on mainly penetrative methods of "controlling" menstrual flow. I'm intrigued by the centuries long taboo on mestrual blood -- the utter social absence of something that surrounds us, literally, every day. I'm not sure I have any political insight, but I'm curious about the anthropological (?) aspects of this.

I personally cannot use tampons anymore. I don't know why: they cause severe, debilitating cramping and are almost impossible to insert. I've had TSS (in 1985) and I don't like the idea that most commercial tampons contain dioxin (from the bleaching process). There are other insertable options for women, like the Keeper, etc. - but there are also other means of discreetly and hygienically maintaining your flow. Unfortunately, the more arcane methods are not taught from mother to daughter anymore. I don't want to go into details, mostly because I'm still eating lunch. I just think it's interesting to see what "body knowledge" gets lost with the advance of technology, etc.

[Hugo]

Well, the taboo isn't the same cross-culturally; some Native American tribes viewed it with awe and religious implications.

I have no problem with expanding inter-generational conversation among women! I'm not shilling for Proctor and Gamble, either.

[harpy]

I found it interesting that the non-applicator tampons are far less widely available in the US than the UK. In fact, there is only one brand over here that I'm aware of, while every supermarket has its own brand in the UK.

I'm not sure why they are not so popular- could be something to do with encouraging girls and women to keep their hands away from the area, or with the taboo on menstrual blood.

There are plenty of good reasons for not buying a tampon which comes with its own plastic (or occasionally cardboard) waste.