Opinion
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
4A — Thursday, September 22, 2016

Breaking down oppressive period culture 

ASHLEY ZHANG | COLUMN

ANTHONY LABONTE | CARTOON

Entering my 22nd year of existence

ROLAND DAVIDSON | COLUMN

“I 

love girls,” my friend 
once proclaimed as she 
exited the bathroom. “I 

didn’t have a pad, and five girls 
offered me one.”

It’s a classic girl bonding 

moment and the best ice breaker 
there 
is: 
One 
girl 

bemoans the arrival 
of Mother Nature’s 
monthly gift, and she 
can generally expect 
myriad 
responses, 

ranging from groans 
of empathy to favorite 
cramp-eradicating 
tips to “Oh my gosh, 
me too!” from female 
acquaintances turned 
fast 
friends. 
All 

connected by shared pains and 
discomforts, 
“sisterhood” 
has 

never felt so real.

However, these conversations 

rarely stretch beyond the realm 
of sleepovers, dormitories and 
female restrooms. And perhaps 
that 
uncommonness 
is 
the 

reason heated discussions on 
menstruation bond us. When 
the media masks the messy 
reality of periods with smiling 
women in tampon commercials 
and a mysterious blue liquid 
that has little resemblance to 
crimson blood, the only people 
we can relate to are those who’ve 
experienced it themselves.

Enter Fu Yuanhui, the Chinese 

competitive 
swimmer 
who 

effortlessly shattered so-called 
“period taboo” at the 2016 Rio 
Olympics. “I just got my period 
yesterday, so I’m still a bit weak 
and really tired. But this isn’t an 
excuse for not swimming well,” 
she told an interviewer post-race 
with a frankness that garnered 
attention worldwide and instantly 
became hashtag relatable with 
girls all over the world.

The scrutiny was especially 

strong in her home country, 
where 
feminine 
hygiene 

product 
advertisements 
are 

banned during prime time and 
the tampon market is miniscule 
due to the misguided belief that 
tampons will break a woman’s 
hymen and take her virginity. 
Whether or not it was intended 
that way, Fu’s public admission 
of her period and the insinuation 
that she, an unmarried Chinese 

woman, uses tampons or some 
other internal sanitary product, 
was a Big Deal — not only for 
China, but also for me.

You see, I am 18 years old, 

and I have never used a tampon. 
It originated from a fear of 

potential pain and 
the unknown, but 
soon the years of 
avoidance 
flashed 

by until I was a 
legal adult, ready 
to 
embark 
on 
a 

camping trip into 
the vast wilderness, 
the dates of my trip 
coinciding 
exactly 

with the start of 
my monthly cycle. 

Images of bears picking up 
my bloody scent from miles 
away and coming to devour me 
in one mighty gulp haunted 
my dreams as I frantically 
conjured excuses for sitting on 
the beach while everyone else 
frolicked in the water.

The stress of breaking period 

taboo was enough for me to 
purchase my first trial pack 
of tampons and search up the 
“You’re going through puberty, 
now what?” websites I hadn’t 
touched since middle school. 
Unfortunately, my mother was 
not quite on board with the idea. 
“What are these?” she asked, 
picking up the Kroger bag I’d 
brought 
home. 
“Tampons,” 

I 
replied 
with 
nervous 

nonchalance. “Tampons?” my 
mother repeated, “You can’t use 
these; you’re not married!”

It was then I realized it wasn’t 

just my own fear preventing 
me from using tampons, but 
rather, the long history of a 
culture that heavily emphasizes 
sexual purity. As I argued 
with my mother on the innate 
sexism behind her statement, 
she countered with the closest 
thing to “the talk” (albeit full of 
euphemisms and uncomfortable 
avoidances) 
that 
I’d 
ever 

received. “There’s a … layer of 
skin in there that breaks when 
you use a tampon,” she said.

“Do you mean the hymen?” 

I replied. “Because that doesn’t 
break when you use a tampon, you 
know.” Still, she was adamant.

It was hard not to feel 

frustrated with my mother’s 
beliefs, but how could I blame her 
when she was raised in a country 
that turns married women away 
from the gynecologist, because 
pap smears and pelvic exams 
are considered too intrusive? 
The importance of virginity 
in China doesn’t stem from a 
particularly sexual or religious 
place. Rather, as Emily Wilcox, 
assistant 
professor 
in 
the 

Department of Asian Languages 
and Cultures at the University 
of Michigan, explains, “Chinese 
society tends to place greater 
emphasis on managing women’s 
bodily 
processes 
related 
to 

reproduction.”

According to Wilcox, Chinese 

women treat menstruation more 
seriously as a health issue and 
a limitation to their regular 
activities than women in the 
United 
States. 
Additionally, 

Chinese women take a month 
off after they give birth so their 
bodies can recover from the 
ordeal of delivery, a practice 
that translates to “doing the 
month.” And while traditional 
Chinese medicine has its merits, 
the attention to female virginity 
and the female body suggests an 
underlying sexism, as if the only 
thing the female body is good 
for is as a vessel for another 
human being.

In a country where virgins 

and unmarried women (who 
are assumed to be the former) 
are 
barred 
from 
receiving 

gynecological 
exams 
and 

discouraged 
from 
using 

tampons, Fu Yuanhui’s casual 
smashing of period taboo is 
somewhat of a statement, or 
even a catalyst for change. As 
innocuous 
as 
her 
comment 

may seem, it’s already opened 
conversations 
on 
Chinese 

forums about tampons and the 
misconceptions 
surrounding 

their ability to strip a woman 
of her virginity. Fu Yuanhui’s 
interview is a foot in the door, 
a centimeter crack between the 
secret realm of girls and the rest 
of the world.

ASHLEY 
ZHANG 

LAURA SCHINAGLE

Managing Editor

420 Maynard St. 

Ann Arbor, MI 48109

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EDITORIAL BOARD MEMBERS

A 

few weeks ago, I was in an 
Uber with a driver named 
Nick. He happened to be 

from Greece, but immigrated to 
Michigan with his family when 
he was a teenager. I brought up 
my interest in travelling there, 
and we talked about some of 
the best sites in the country, the 
rich culture and the fluctuating 
debt crisis. I said how amazing 
it would have been to live there, 
and he nodded, saying it was. But 
what struck me was when he then 
went on to say how America had 
done more for him and his family 
than Greece ever could. As we 
continued to talk, I soon realized 
his appreciation for this country 
outweighed 
my 
own. 
Nick’s 

sentiments, similar to many other 
foreign-born Americans, are at 
odds with many of the things 
Donald Trump has to say about 
immigrants in the United States.

Last 
week, 
Mr. 
Trump 

announced that President Barack 
Obama was, in fact, born in the 
United States. The Trump team 
blamed Hillary Clinton for the 
birtherism 
theories, 
accusing 

her 2008 campaign of starting 
the birther movement. However, 
history is not on Mr. Trump’s side. 
The Los Angeles Times traced the 
nominee’s opinion on Obama’s 
birthplace throughout the years, 
and up until his announcement on 
Sept. 16, Trump was anything but 
supportive of the president. Even 
after announcing his bid for the 
presidency in 2015, Donald Trump 
remained doubtful of Obama’s 
birthplace. The resurfacing of 
this issue, possibly another media 
ploy or (successful) attempt to 
cast the spotlight on himself, 
highlights a deeper problem: 
Trump’s immigrant discourse 
is dangerous to what the United 
States stands for. Within the 
past year, Trump has managed 
to alienate immigrant groups 
from all over the world. Now, Mr. 
Trump has again raised concerns 
regarding identity and origin and 
their collective place in American 
society. This continued disregard 
and severe lack of empathy for 
immigrant groups makes him less 
American than he once perceived 
our president to be. 

It has been said time and again 

that America is, at its core, a nation 
of immigrants. Our country’s 

motto, “E pluribus unum,” or 
“out of many, one,” highlights the 
nation’s diverse makeup. Trump’s 
words 
have 
continuously 

worked against this centuries-
old principle, disrespecting it 
instead of praising it. The irony 
of this lies in Trump’s appeal. His 
campaign has run on an “America 
First” mentality in an attempt to 
make him appear more patriotic. 
Well, “America First” includes 
the 42.4 million foreign-born 
immigrants who call this country 
home. Trump’s vision of “Make 
America Great Again” is a skewed 
one. His harmful rhetoric against 
immigrant populations like his 
“Build a Wall” slogan and plan to 
ban Muslims from entering the 
country is creating an outdated 
insider vs. outsider mentality that 
has no place in today’s globalized 
society. This hostile conversation 
between natural-born Americans 
and foreign-born Americans is 
destructive to the very ideals 
the country holds itself to. The 
nominee’s all-American image is 
disqualified by his refusal to see 
what makes America, America: 
its diverse population.

Statistically, 
immigrants 
in 

the United States, along with 
their U.S.-born children, equate 
to almost 26 percent of the 
population. As the daughter of 
two Indian immigrants, I’m part 
of that statistic, as are many other 
University of Michigan students. 
In a country with a substantial 
foreign 
population, 
Trump’s 

rhetoric is working against him. If 
Mr. Trump wants his campaign to 
be signified by strong patriotism, 
then 
estranging 
American 

immigrants is not the way to go. 
Immigrants, more often than not, 
embody the virtues that make the 
United States great: hard work, 
humility and a belief in America’s 
ideals. They come here to start 
over, to begin, to learn. America 
is opportunity, it’s hope, but for 
many of us, it’s just ordinary. I 
can admit that I take being an 
American for granted. But for 
immigrants living here, every day 
is a visible difference between 
where they came from and 
where they are now. This kind 
of perspective develops a great 
sense of gratitude, leading many 
immigrants to have a uniquely 
deeper appreciation for all that 
the United States has given them.

Donald Trump hasn’t outright 

insulted Greek immigrants like 

Nick the Uber driver, or Indian 
immigrants like my parents, but 
his anti-immigration rhetoric 
can make all ethnicities feel 
unwelcome in their own country 
— their own home. It’s important 
to note that Trump doesn’t 
often make the distinction in 
his comments between illegal 
immigrants who bring violence 
and crime to the United States 
and 
immigrants 
like 
my 

parents: educated, skillful and 
committed to giving their very 
best for their children and their 
adopted country.

Immigrants like the Khan 

family, 
whose 
roots 
are 
in 

Pakistan, are originally from 
another country but have lived 
a version of the “American 
Dream.” Trump’s words have 
grouped together all immigrants 
by continuously insulting them, 
showing a concerted effort to 
alienate those whose birthplace 
may be different, skin color may 
be darker or first language may 
not be English. In many cases, 
this simply means he is alienating 
those who tend to be the most 
appreciative of America. He has 
refueled the stigma surrounding 
immigrants and perpetuated the 
idea of a less tolerant America. 
The fact that their appreciation is 
being returned with racism and 
bigotry by a presidential candidate 
tears away at what actually makes 
America great: people who have 
come here seeking opportunity 
and who have lived it out.

The United States is a country 

of 
diversity, 
opportunity, 

freedom, hope and all those other 
adjectives that great leaders and 
great writers have continuously 
used to describe this singularly 
unique America. These are the 
ideals we hold ourselves to: 
accepting other cultures and 
religions, promoting tolerance 
and acceptance and realizing 
the vast contributions those 
with different backgrounds can 
bring to the table. Unfortunately, 
not all of us are promoting 
those words on the face of our 
currency, E pluribus unum. 
Trump is on a mission to “Make 
America Great Again,” but his 
own belittling words and blunt 
ignorance seem to be what make 
him all the less American.

ANU 

ROY-CHAUDHURY
A very un-American American 

ANU ROY-CHAUDHURY | COLUMN 

Ashley Zhang can be reached at 

ashleyzh@umich.edu.

I 

have a deep history of 
having social anxiety from 
totally innocuous things. 

One of my greatest fears is that 
the baristas at Espresso Royale 
will begin recognizing me and 
treating me better. 
Yes, this is extremely 
irrational. But at the 
very least, I can take 
solace in that I’m 
part of a great lineage 
of 
neurotic 
New 

York 
Jews 
(almost 

anything 
which 

draws comparisons to 
Woody Allen is a win 
in my book).

I have a similar 

relationship with birthdays. The 
idea of celebrating myself has 
always rubbed me the wrong 
way. It seems plainly narcissistic. 
(Whoopee, 
I 
don’t 
have 

debilitating, 
life-threatening 

arthritis from replaying Chrono 
Trigger! We’re one year closer 
to the inevitable heat death 
of the Universe!) I want to be 
celebrated, but not to be the 
subject of celebration (please 
someone objectify me). It’s a 
weird tension. Each year, another 
birthday passed and I grew a little 
more bitter that nobody threw 
me a birthday bash. I started 
to loathe birthdays and would 
tell friends this, so they stopped 
celebrating. The obvious loop of 
bad self-confidence formed and it 
showed no signs of stopping until 
a week ago.

This 
year 
was 
different. 

Over the past year, I’ve made a 
concerted effort to incorporate 
my coursework into my life 
outside the classroom. One of 
the most important things I’ve 
internalized through my classes 
on social justice is that nothing 
is given to you in this world. 
The future isn’t guaranteed to 
be better — we have to actively 
make it so. People need to fight 
against injustice to improve our 
communities. But this lesson 
goes beyond work as an activist. 
This year I invited a bunch of 
my friends to the Jolly Pumpkin 
for drinks and food. This was 

an anxiety-inducing process but 
at the end of the day, I made the 
right decision. I imagine there are 
a lot of people like me, wanting 
to be celebrated but not wanting 
to usher in the celebration. My 

advice: Think back 
to how you’ve gotten 
what you want in 
the past. I’ve never 
had a job fall into 
my lap; I’ve had to 
talk to professors, 
do 
research, 
send 

resumes, etc. Why is 
a birthday party any 
different? If you want 
people to celebrate 
you, you often have to 

make it happen.

While it’s possible to change 

some aspects of how your birthday 
is celebrated, others are totally out 
of your control. The way people 
wish you a happy birthday, for 
instance. I’ve noticed a gradual 
change in the electronic rituals 
which come with birthdays. I 
remember in high school waiting 
until midnight so I could wish 
my best friend a happy birthday. I 
remember drafting and redrafting 
birthday wall posts filled with 
inside jokes about “The Crucible” 
and trigonometry. That doesn’t 
happen 
anymore. 
Maybe 
it’s 

because of how Facebook has 
changed its interface. Back in 
the days of yore, Facebook’s chat 
feature was notoriously buggy, 
often 
deleting 
conversations 

midway through and having no 
ability 
to 
save 
conversations. 

These days, that doesn’t really 
happen. On the flipside, I’ve gotten 
some really nice handwritten 
notes from my friends (one year 
my housemate gave me an award 
for Most Times Attempted to 
Quit Compulsive Cough Drop 
Consumption). A lot of people 
extol 
written 
communication 

in our hyper-mediated world. If 
someone goes to the trouble of 
hand writing a letter, there comes 
a certain care, both about the 
contents of the letter but also about 
your relationship.

But to be totally honest, it’s 

hard not be nostalgic for that 

moment at midnight when the 
deluge of wall posts came in. 
Maybe it is part of how I’ve grown 
accustomed to the way that the 
internet has allowed for instant 
gratification. At the same time, 
it’s not as though those messages 
were shallow, and I have them 
forever, which is a definite plus. 
The internet rituals we associate 
with birthdays might just reflect 
larger patterns in how we use our 
computers and social media.

In the back of my head, I keep 

track of who has and hasn’t 
wished me a happy birthday on 
Facebook. This probably sounds 
neurotic. Spoiler — it is. Case in 
point: A girl who I had a fling with 
in the summer of 2014 wished me 
a happy birthday for the following 
two years and neglected to do 
so this year. (But she did like 
the following status: “the main 
reason im excited to turn 21 is 
that i can now disappoint a whole 
new set of women on tinder.”)

Maybe this represents the 

ways in which we’ve grown 
apart — which brings me to my 
last point: Birthdays are a chance 
to reminisce and reflect, both a 
singular, nondescript point and a 
check point. You see people fade 
in and out of your life (so-and-
so came to this sweet dinner 
with my family but didn’t even 
say anything this year). But at 
the same time, life doesn’t have 
an easy trajectory. People crest 
in and out of your life between 
those two poles; I’ve had really 
important relationships where my 
birthday plays no role. Birthdays 
are important but not the end all 
be all. A lot of people get worked 
up over them, justifiably so. It’s 
not as though it’s just another 
day. There are a lot of important 
markers in our lives ranging 
from the traditional holidays to 
graduations to initially random 
dates 
that 
acquire 
meaning. 

Perhaps the best way to describe 
them is to say that they’re just 
another important day.

ROLAND 

DAVIDSON 

Roland Davidson can be reached at 

mhenryda@umich.edu.

Anu Roy-Chaudhury can be reached 

at anuroy@umich.edu.

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