When Crisis Hits, Periods Don’t Stop

Floods. Displacement. Power outages. Protests that shut down cities. A pandemic that empties shelves overnight.

When a crisis hits, the world scrambles to respond; food, water, shelter, security. And somewhere at the bottom of the list, or not on it at all, is the quiet reality that half the population is still menstruating. Through all of it.

Periods don’t pause for emergencies. And the systems that already made menstrual health hard? Crisis breaks them completely.

What Actually Happens When Crisis Hits

In a disaster or conflict situation, the first things to disappear are the basics. Clean water. Private space. Sanitation. Supply chains.

For a woman managing her period, that’s everything. You need water to wash reusable products. You need privacy to change. You need somewhere safe to dispose of used products. You need a way to actually get products in the first place.

When flooding hits a community in Rivers State and families are displaced to a school building or a relief camp, the women in that camp are still bleeding. They’re asking neighbours for pads, tearing fabric from old clothes, using whatever they can find while also trying to keep their children calm, find food, and figure out what’s left of their home.

Nobody’s documenting that. Nobody’s putting it in the headline. FYI, I’m using the flooding perspective but we both know the current state of insecurity in the country so as you read this, please have that in mind; in the instance that it escalates or it gets to you.

The Stigma Makes It Worse

Crisis already strips dignity. You’re sleeping in a strange place, dependent on others, uncertain about everything.

Now add the layer of needing to manage your period without privacy, without products, and without feeling like you can ask for help because in many communities, talking about menstruation openly is still uncomfortable, still a little shameful, still something women are expected to handle quietly and alone.

Aid distributions often miss menstrual products entirely. And when women are too embarrassed to ask for them directly, they go without. The stigma that exists in normal times doesn’t disappear in hard times. If anything, it gets heavier. I don’t know about you but I am a proud Ogoni woman and standing in line to receive free menstrual products as a result of displacement will result in a feeling of worthlessness that I truly can’t handle.

How Women Are Actually Managing It

Let’s be honest about what women do when systems fail them because we always find a way.

We improvise. Torn fabric, tissue paper, cotton wool, old clothing. It works until it doesn’t  and there’s an infection, a leak, an injury to confidence that lingers long after the crisis ends. Inserting cotton wool and using tissue for menstrual needs can lead to infertility.

We share. Women in crisis settings look out for each other. If one woman has products, she splits them. That informal network is invisible to most relief efforts, but it’s real and it’s how many women survive.

We go without. Sometimes there’s nothing to share, nothing to improvise with. So we restrict movement, stay sitting, and isolate themselves. They manage the shame of it alone.

This is not a resilience to celebrate. This is a gap that should not exist.

What Helps: Managing Menstrual Health Through Crisis

If you’re a woman reading this, whether you’re preparing for the next crisis or living through one right now, here’s what actually helps.

1. Build a period emergency kit:  Before a crisis hits, if you can: store a small supply of whatever products you use. Reusable products – a menstrual cup, period underwear, cloth pads are especially crisis-proof because they don’t run out. One menstrual cup can last 5-10 years. It doesn’t need electricity or a supply chain. For many women, switching to reusables isn’t just an environmental choice, it’s a practical one.
2. Know your options. A lot of women don’t switch to reusable products because they’ve never been properly taught how to use them. Learning how your options work before a crisis means you’re not figuring it out under pressure, in the dark, without running water. Buy a Menstrual cup and practice how to use it, just in case.
3. Talk to the women around you. In a crisis, the information that saves you often comes from another woman nearby. Breaking the silence even slightly means someone else knows what you need and you know what they need. That quiet solidarity is genuinely powerful.
4. Advocate for inclusion in relief efforts. If you’re in a position to speak to a community leader, a church, a relief coordinator, anyone distributing aid, say it plainly: women need menstrual products. It should be in every relief package. Period. It shouldn’t be a request that requires courage to make.

What Communities and Organisations Must Do Better

This part is less about individual survival and more about the systems that keep failing women.

i) Menstrual products need to be treated as essential supplies not afterthoughts, not luxury items, not add-ons when there’s budget left over. They belong in emergency kits the same way oral rehydration salts do.

ii) Relief organisations need women leading menstrual health response, not just as beneficiaries but as decision-makers who understand what’s needed and why.

iii) Schools, community centres, and displacement camps need private, safe spaces where women can manage their hygiene. A toilet with a curtain is not enough. Running water, disposal facilities, and actual privacy matter.

iv) Education before a crisis hits matters more than most people realise. A girl who understands her body and knows her options is more equipped to manage in hard circumstances than one who has been kept in the dark her whole life.

The Bigger Picture

Menstrual health in crisis is a mirror. It reflects everything a society already believes or doesn’t believe about women’s bodies, women’s dignity, and what counts as essential.

The communities that handle it well are the ones that already had the conversations. That already stocked the products. That already treated menstruation as a normal, manageable part of life instead of a private shame.

Crisis reveals gaps. But the gaps were already there.

The work starts now in the conversations we’re willing to have, the products we choose to stock, the policies we push for, and the women we refuse to leave out of the plan.