I first heard about reusable sanitary pads about two years ago from a nurse who's very close to me.
At the time, it sounded like just another idea until I started to see the reality of period poverty around me.
In my hometown, Ogbomoso, Oyo State, I spoke with a few teenage girls about how they manage their periods.
Their stories broke my heart š
𩸠Some use tissue paper.
𩸠Some use old rags.
𩸠Some use cotton wool
Those who can afford a little buy the small 3-in-1 pad pack, using one pad the whole day because thatās all they have.
Not because they donāt care about hygiene, but because they canāt afford more. And it's the difficult choice they have to make because:
š° Pads are too expensive.
š©āš§ Some parents donāt see them as a necessity.
šāāļø And some girls are too shy to even ask for money.
So they suffer in silence.
They miss school.
They stay home.
They feel shame for something completely natural.
And thatās when I thought the idea of reusable sanitary pads washable, durable, and safe when properly made might not really be a bad idea if they can't afford the disposable ones.
At first, I was skepticalā¦
But the more I learned, the more I saw it as a lifeline.
⨠Teaching girls how to make and use reusable pads isnāt just a skill, itās a form of freedom.
It gives them control, dignity, and hope.
It means they no longer have to beg, hide, or miss school because of their period.
Still, it hurts to know that something as natural as menstruation has become a source of pain and poverty.
No girl should have to choose between her dignity and her daily bread.
Maybe the real question isnāt about reusable or disposable pads.
Maybe itās about how we value our girls.
Because when a society ignores their basic needs, it quietly tells them they donāt matter.
Itās time to change that.
Itās time to care.
And itās time to act so every girl, everywhere, can bleed with dignity. ā¤ļø