May 20–27, 1999

naked city

Seeing Red

Talking with writer Karen Houppert about that time of the month.

by Margit Detweiler

Appropriately, I started reading Karen Houppert's book The Curse on my red letter day. Aunt Flo was visiting me. I was riding the cotton pony.

I had my period.

And when I read her chapter on the tampon-dioxin connection, Houppert had me so alarmed that I ran to the bathroom and yanked out my o.b. tampon, probably forever.

Dioxin, a byproduct of the chlorine bleaching process at paper and wood-pulp mills, is found in most commercial tampons, such as Playtex, o.b., Kotex, Tampax. It "has been shown in FDA studies," Houppert writes, "to be potentially carcinogenic, toxic to the immune system and a cause of birth defects." Yikes.

(And you thought toxic shock syndrome was scary.)

The thing is, in deciding to clear the use of dioxin, the Food and Drug Administration (FDA) relied on studies done by the tampon industry. According to a 1992 Wall Street Journal article cited by Houppert, Tambrands (the makers of Tampax) spokesperson Bruce Garren claimed, "There are no significant dioxin levels in our product." Unfortunately, no one knows what a "significant" level is, and with repeated contact, claims Houppert, even a small amount could be hazardous—a concern also raised by the Environmental Protection Agency in 1997.

Houppert writes, "Seventy-three million menstruating women are bolstering an industry that releases toxins into our air and waterways. And seventy-three million American women may be directly accumulating toxins into their bodies via tampons."

	"It goes beyond a desire not to stain your panties," says Houppert of period anxiety.

Unfortunately, no one's really pressing the tampon manufacturers or the FDA for more information—because, as Houppert puts it, "nobody spends time thinking about periods."

Menstruation, she says, is our last, unmentionable taboo. Society is still embarrassed by it. Women continue to hide the fact that they're bleeding. And the whole five-to-seven-day event is looked at as, well, gross.

Just the mention of the word can make people uncomfortable. When I told people I was doing a story on menstruation, I got a lot of wrinkled noses and raised eyebrows from both men and women.

"There's a sense that this is a dirty topic or that it doesn't merit this kind of attention," says Houppert.

She insists that the fact that it's not talked about seriously, or not talked about at all, is disturbing.

"Menstrual etiquette matters because women are being manipulated. The consequences are significant."

Funny, insightful and shocking, The Curse (Farrar, Straus and Giroux) examines this "culture of concealment": its history, political ramifications and effect on women's psyche. After Houppert grabs our attention with the dangers of sanitary products, she delves into the history of advertising, discusses menstruation with a group of pre-teen campers, reflects on menstruation in pop culture (Anne Frank and Carrie) and examines the menstrual counterculture—activists fighting for our right to ride the red tide with pride.

"It goes beyond a desire not to stain your panties," says Houppert, calling from her desk at the Village Voice, where she has worked as a staff writer for the last several years. "We're embarrassed to buy tampons, we hide our period paraphernalia when we walk from our cubicle to the bathroom. There's something much deeper that we're ashamed of that comes from messages in advertisements, literature and the way we, as women, are made to feel about our bodies."

Houppert began her odyssey into menstruation as a peeved consumer. She was shocked to learn that Tampax had just reduced the number of tampons in her regular package and upped the price. While investigating this, she says she stumbled into a "netherworld of feminine hygiene ads, menstrual etiquette, period-product focus groups, bodily effluents and environmental effluents, hormones, scents, sex and surfactants." Her queries evolved into a cover story for the Voice in 1995 entitled, "Embarrassed to Death: The Hidden Dangers of the Tampon Industry." The cover image featured an evocative picture of a woman's legs with a dangling tampon string between them; the picture garnered more attention than the article itself.

"People freaked," writes Houppert. "The New York Times reporter wondered whether anything was sacred after that image—they couldn't get past the cover to the article inside. Which was, and is, my point. These taboos matter because they prevent consumer debate and scientific research, as well as safety monitoring of the sanitary protection industry."

Our society does pay attention to one aspect of menstruation: PMS. It's the butt, so to speak, of a million jokes.

PMS has become, Houppert worries, "a convenient catchall for women's complaints, a way of discounting women's anger—and their often legitimate concerns—by attributing their dissatisfaction to hormones."

I've always hypothesized that my period-induced angry moods are my moments of peak clarity. When I really see my shitty situation for what it is. Houppert laughs, suggesting I may not be so far off.

Houppert cites a study that showed a greater fluctuation in mood over the course of a week than during a menstrual cycle. And that both men and women reported depression peaking on Tuesday and good cheer peaking on Friday.

"The physical debilitations like migraines and cramps get short shrift in academic research. Most of the PMS research goes into controlling mood fluctuations. Our society's tendency to treat PMS with drugs and hormones sends a message that the range of emotion and feelings women are experiencing are unacceptable—that they must fit within certain limits—and that's troubling."

Hopefully Houppert's book (which I suggest every woman read) will prompt more dialogue about menstruation, particularly in regard to safety.

Until then, she recommends some alternatives to commercial tampons.

Houppert writes about inSync cotton tampons (which she uses), as a relatively effective product. "No better, no worse than a panty liner." She's also fond of Instead, a product which catches your flow (rather than absorbing it) in a rubber, diaphragm-like cup and can be worn up to 12 hours at a time. A little messy, but it's better than the risky alternative. Unfortunately, Instead is no longer on the market.

"I've heard that someone bought the patent and it's likely someone will bring it back."

In terms of investigating the dangers of tampons, there's also hope.

Congresswoman Carolyn Maloney, a Democrat from New York, has introduced a bill called the Tampon Safety and Research Act, which already has 37 co-signers.

The bill would earmark money for the National Institutes of Health to thoroughly investigate the issue, writes Houppert. It also demands that all of the ingredients in tampons be exhaustively tested for safety and that the results be made public.

Houppert laughs, "A couple of the potential co-signers wanted her to drop the word 'tampon' from the name of the bill."

To Maloney's credit, she declined to do so.