Maybe if society looked at menstruation as a sport then we might have more open conversations about it? Maybe our first thought would not be to cringe but instead be that of curiosity?
I've been thinking a lot about the idea of catch and release-rather the theory. Let me explain. In fishery it's pretty straightforward, because of the necessity to preserve biodiversity and population numbers; some, if not most, public waters have a catch and release policy. The sports person starts with the gear; collection of reels and rods, lures, hooks, tackle boxes, a fishing jacket (maybe not, but sounds cool). Then it is the scoping of location, if you are lucky, someone took you fishing as a child, if you aren't privy to the local knowledge of the fishing holes you have to research public waters, parking access, docking, etc. Then on and on until you are finally on, near, or in a body of water. You caste out, you wait, and sometimes waiting is all that you do or are able to do that day. Other times there are bites on the line, the hotdog drenched in garlic brine is bitten off the hook, or the fish is not "properly hooked" and tugs off the line. Still other times you catch one, this is what keeps you coming out time and time again, the euphoria of the "yank and pull," the "set and reel." And although I am making up those terms they are in fact the muscle movements observed by my partner as he gleefully yells, "I GOT ONE!" This is what brings you back.
Catch and Release theory, as I am calling it going forward in this piece of writing, has me thinking about the body. A uterus-having body. The body as it interacts with bodily discharge. We are going to talk about periods, the menses, aunt flow, the red tide, the audible, "oh no" as you see the red smear in your underwear. Just as the act of fishing starts, so does the act of menstruation (take this with a grain of salt, of course menstruation should start with education but hear me out) starts with the "gear." Trade your lures, rods and reels for menstrual pads, tampons, period underwear, menstrual cups. The act of "catching" is that of collection of blood, discharge. The "release" comes in two parts, the first is the release of the uterine lining, the second release, the dumping or washing out (the discarding of).
A fish is often released one of two ways, thrown haphazardly back into the water to prevent suffocation on land or gently guided back in the water- the fisherperson's attitude toward the fish is reflected in this decision. Did the fish's fin barb their hand? Did it thrash about in their hands, slimy and writhing? To some it does not matter, their techniques are the same, I would argue it matters a great deal to others. The menstrual blood is often disposed of, or released, in a few ways. For the first decade or more of my personal menstruation, I used many catch and release combinations. I was particularly apt to the tampon/pad duo. In recent years, and regrettably a decade too late, I use the period underwear/diva cup (insert your favorite off brand you bought at the drugstore out of desperation here) duo. This collection helps me literally quantify my "catch." I can sit on the toilet seat, cup in hand, and measure the often overflowing contents, my proverbial "picture with the fish I caught" moment.
I am often proud or overwhelmed by the amount caught and released, the calculation of milliliters multiplied by the number of catches for that day. The results often surprise me (I have irregular menses combined with PCOS, this perhaps irrelevant to this piece of writing but this often reaps large and messy collections). Am I not too, in a twisted way, a fisherman? Am I not too, though often tired and cramping, proud of the collection I might have waited months for? Just as the fisherman waits for their catch, am I not too reeling in the line to make sure the cup has contents within it? That the uterine lining is doing its duty of shedding?
I could argue that birth control is the bait of this analogy, that we could schedule medicinally when we would catch this "fish", some people down to the week or day. I could counter too with the phenomena of a plentiful season that some of us uterus-having individuals might catch and release far too often, bleeding longer and more frequently than we wish (thanks, hormones)-though this analogy doesn't have much weight because anyone that loves to fish would love to have a long season.
All this to say that I have been thinking. Maybe if society looked at menstruation as a sport then we might have more open conversations about it? Maybe our first thought would not be to cringe but instead be that of curiosity? Blood and fish, collection and disposal. Here is to encounters that make us uncomfortable and the smell of both iron and mercury.