A new opportunity to save the planet arose last month when a fellow journalist asked me if I’d be interested in buying a menstrual cup as they are cheaper abroad compared to here. It’s a cup-shaped device made from medical-grade silicone, whose purpose is to gather menstrual blood, reusable for up to 10 years and therefore very environmentally-friendly. After thorough research, I figured if I want to try this, I might as well go for American- or European-made cups, which are more expensive but have legit claims to be safer.

The more I read about why women should switch to menstrual cups, the more horrified I became, not about wearing the cup but about the facts of why the switch is necessary. From a total population of 132.89 million women in Indonesia in 2019 as reported by the National Development Planning Agency, over 68 percent, about 89.7 million, are in their productive age. If a woman uses two sanitary pads a day in a five-day period, averaging 10 pads per woman, that’s already 897 million sanitary pads discarded as waste per month.

That’s only in Indonesia.

Sanitary pads are not biodegradable. The plastic in each packaging, the jelly layer and microbeads have long contributed to waste and pollution. The industry and waste management companies are still struggling to manage sanitary pad waste. So I figured my attempt to eliminate the use of sanitary pads in my remaining period years, which if I’m healthy, might be about 10 more years.

My mind was set; there was no turning back. I will be a menstrual cup user.

The cup I ordered was in size A, which is suggested for women who have never given birth vaginally, but I failed to read the rest of the disclaimer in that it’s also mainly suggested for women under 30 years old. Later I found out that it doesn’t really matter if you’ve had a vaginal birth or not; once you’ve gone through pregnancy, you just have to choose the biggest size as your body has changed significantly.

What about the women who have never had sex? Can they use menstrual cups?

I personally think this device is made for those who think of virginity as a social construct. If you value your hymen as a symbol of your virginity, this may not be for you because the requirement for a menstrual cup to
work is to insert it deep inside the vagina. But no worries, to value the hymen and still go eco-friendly, there is another option of washable pads or menstrual underwear.

A menstrual cup often comes in two or three sizes. Size A or small typically is 3.81 centimeters in diameter and 4.3 cm in length. Size B or large typically is 5.2 cm in diameter and 4.3 cm in length. Sizes and models vary, depending on the brand.

When my menstrual cup package arrived, I was excited to try it on. After watching endless YouTube videos, it seemed easy. I was not intimidated at all, as I have previously used tampons. How hard could it be?

It took several attempts and folds until I decided I was comfortable with the “punch-down” fold to insert the cup. To answer the first most-asked question, if you insert it right, you’re not supposed to feel anything except for maybe the need to urinate more often as the cup presses against your bladder on the first days. Some people don’t even experience this at all.

The second most-asked question is, “How do you know if the cup is full?” There is a certain feeling, although as I care too much about hygiene and to avoid grossing myself out, I made a mental note to check every two hours in the first days. But of course, I forgot to do so, hence the first two days of use was rather difficult, for I still didn’t know how much of my flow the cup can accommodate.

Many menstrual cup advocates say, “The flow you see in your pads is nothing when you see it in the cup. So relax, no flow is that heavy.” Balderdash! I should have trusted my instincts and emptied the cup more often as planned or get a bigger cup. There was no pain, but every cup-emptying session was messy, just enough to make me contemplate, repeatedly, on whether I should continue my mission.

Did I give up?

I decided to stick with the menstrual cup with a little help of several panty liners — just in case. A part of me judged my decision to still use nonbiodegradable products to save me from possibly embarrassing situations, but another part of me said quietly to my judgmental self: “Consider this as a set of training wheels. Next month will be better.”

In the name of still wanting to contribute to the planet’s future, I have decided to get the large menstrual cup to anticipate next month’s period and pair it with good-quality period underwear that is washable and environmentally friendly to anticipate possible leakage.

It still gives me a weird sense of satisfaction whenever I think that I’m actually a part of a movement that suits the closeted environmentalist-wannabe in me so well, the one where I know I contribute on a monthly basis, albeit silently.

_______________________

The writer is managing editor of Life at The Jakarta Post. The article was earlier published on thejakartapost.com.

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