It’s rarely felt so good to see a woman talk about her period. Last week, Labour’s Danielle Rowley became the first woman in the House of Commons to mention having her period. Rowley was highlighting the cause of “period poverty”, and while – even after factoring in every variable – her take on the annual cost of sanitary products (£500) seemed shaky (perhaps based on a past study on what women thought they spent), her main point remains valuable.
As was Rowley standing up, among the fabled green seats, and talking about her period at all. In the era of #MeToo, and with Jess Phillips (in another first for an MP) recently writing about her abortion, are these signs that women are not only joining the public conversation, but also redefining it?
Regarding “period poverty”, in modern Britain it seems farcical that females are still penalised for… being female. Sanitary products may not always cost £500 a year, but tell that to women on such tight budgets they have to choose between tampons and food for their children. Tell it to embarrassed schoolgirls, who truant, or stuff toilet roll into their underwear. Sanitary products are a female necessity, and should be free to those in need. (As will be the case with a soon-to-be-piloted Scottish scheme.) Those men who use the “Yeah, but what about us having to shave?” argument probably just need to be pitied, as they don’t seem to know the difference between grooming choices and basic biology.
As for Rowley’s taboo-busting, when Gloria Steinem wrote her 1978 feminist essay, “If men could menstruate”, she probably couldn’t have imagined that it would take four decades for a woman to calmly mention having her period in the UK parliament. It’s particularly important, when, in recent times, you had Donald Trump, during his campaign to become US president, slyly insinuating that the TV news host Megyn Kelly only criticised him because she was menstruating – “Blood coming out of her wherever” – and was therefore hormonally enraged.
The “Aw, time of the month, babe?” routine is the oldest, saddest male-to-female put-down in the book, and one that always says far more about the man than the woman. However, if this kind of male behaviour (taunting and humiliating on specific gender grounds) is to be challenged, then how better than to take supposed female taboos (periods, abortions), and have them talked about normally and reasonably, by the actual people who know what they are talking about.
Certainly, it’s encouraging to see a subject such as menstruation, that was, relatively recently, boorishly weaponised against a woman, being calmly “owned” by a woman, and in support of other women. Rowley effectively stood up in a still predominantly male environment, and stated: “Right now, I’m bleeding, and if I can deal with that ordinary biological fact, then you can too.” It would seem that, increasingly for taboo-busting women, it’s no longer enough to just be heard, there’s a growing desire to be real, too.
Auditioning for a date with Tom Cruise – what could be more romantic?
Scarlett Johansson has denied that she was one of the women who underwent a Scientology audition to date Tom Cruise (as claimed by a former Scientologist Brendan Tighe), describing the allegation as “demeaning”. Quite.
Let’s not get too hung up about the idea of “romantic auditions”. There are times when the entire mating ritual feels uncannily akin to an audition – an app such as Tinder is an ongoing open “mass audition” by any other name. Personally, I’m less astounded by the thought of the audition, and more about the fact that Cruise was the big prize for the winner. What did the runner-up get – a hot date with Lego Man?
However, as Johansson doubtless knows, there’s a serious side to this – namely the deep-rooted misogyny behind the kind of persistent rumours that aim to cast women as whores. Hence the idea that someone like Johansson was willing to hire herself out, and that all Hollywood women are up for sale in every way, if the price is right.
It doesn’t really matter about a romantic “audition” – unless a woman is branded before she even enters the room, or, as in Johansson’s case, even if she doesn’t enter it.
I don’t want to go on and on if I have a frail old person’s body
Who wants to live forever? A study of almost 4,000 Italians who’d lived to at least 105 years – they checked the birth certificates to weed out the 104-year-old fibbers – found that death rates stabilise past 105, suggesting there may not be a “natural limit” to life. While there are 850 people aged over 105 in the UK, the world record was set by Jeanne Calment, a Frenchwoman who died aged 122 in 1997; it’s now thought that it’s not entirely impossible that this could be topped.
Reading about this, my immediate thought was: what a nightmare. Is ageing past 100 being perceived as some kind of extreme sport? When people hanker after being an extreme-ager, there’s often the impression that they think their younger, fitter (thirtysomething?) self is going to be doing it. A bit like the luckier vampires in the Anne Rice novels, who conveniently get bitten at their physical peak. The idea is that you still have a great life, just for much longer. Which sounds wonderful, except for the fact that the average 105-year-old is probably lucky to make it out of their chair.
Who wants to “live” like that? Admittedly, there are times when I’m parked in front of the television – selflessly researching popular culture for my job, OK! – when I’m arguably less active than a 105-year-old. However, the core point stands: it’s not that you are still breathing, it’s how healthy and happy you are – and continence would be a bonus.
Otherwise, you’re just a pointless mascot of human longevity, propped up in the corner of a care home to be wheeled out every time scientists or reporters come calling. Is there a good chance I’ll change my mind when I’m 99 years old? Probably. However, right now, extreme ageing looks a little, well, extreme.
• Barbara Ellen is an Observer columnist
