Period Poverty in India: What’s Actually Being Done About It

If you’ve ever had to ask a stranger for a pad, skip school because you didn’t have access to menstrual products, or use a rag, sand, ash, or newspaper during your period — you already know what period poverty feels like. For millions of women and girls across India, this isn’t a hypothetical. It’s a monthly reality.

Period poverty isn’t just about not being able to afford a pack of sanitary pads. It’s a tangle of three things: lack of access to safe menstrual products, lack of access to clean water and private toilets to manage periods hygienically, and — maybe the most stubborn of all — the silence and shame that stops girls from asking for help in the first place.

The Scale of the Problem

Government surveys have repeatedly shown that a large share of menstruating women in India still don’t use hygienic methods of protection, especially in rural areas. The gap isn’t uniform either — it varies sharply by state, by income, and by whether a girl is still in school. Many girls drop out of school entirely once they start menstruating, not because they want to, but because their school has no functioning toilet, no privacy, and no way to manage a leak with dignity.

This isn’t a “women’s issue” tucked away in a corner. It affects education outcomes, workforce participation, and public health — which is exactly why it deserves more attention than it gets.

What’s Actually Being Done

The good news is that period poverty in India isn’t being ignored anymore. Here’s where real movement is happening:

1. GST removal on sanitary products. In 2018, after sustained public pressure and activism, India removed the 12% GST that had been levied on sanitary napkins. It was a small line item that made a real difference in affordability at scale.

2. Government distribution schemes. Programs at both the central and state level have worked to supply subsidized or free sanitary pads through schools and primary health centres, particularly targeting rural and adolescent girls. Coverage is uneven, but the intent — and the infrastructure — now exists in places it didn’t before.

3. Menstrual health in the school curriculum. Several states have started integrating menstrual hygiene education into school health programs, training teachers and health workers to talk about periods without euphemism or embarrassment, and installing incinerators and sanitary vending machines in government schools.

4. NGOs closing the last-mile gap. Organizations working at the grassroots level — going village to village, training local women as menstrual health educators, manufacturing low-cost sanitary pads through community-run micro-enterprises — have often reached places that policy alone hasn’t. Some of the most effective models pair product distribution with education, because handing someone a pad without addressing the stigma around periods only solves half the problem.

5. Sustainable and reusable alternatives. Menstrual cups, cloth pads, and period underwear are getting more visibility, both as a cost-saving option for low-income households and as a lower-waste alternative to disposable pads, which are a genuinely enormous environmental burden — most contain plastic and take centuries to break down.

Where the Gaps Still Are

For all this progress, period poverty hasn’t been solved — not close. Distribution schemes don’t always reach the most remote areas. Products supplied by some programs are inconsistent in quality. And the biggest gap of all is cultural: even where products are available, shame and silence still keep many girls from using them confidently, or from talking to a parent, teacher, or doctor when something feels wrong.

Access without education is a half-measure. A girl who has a pad but has never been told what a period actually is, why it happens, or that it’s nothing to be ashamed of, is still navigating this mostly alone.

What You Can Actually Do

You don’t need to run an NGO to make a dent in this. A few starting points:

  • Support grassroots organizations directly working on menstrual health in your city or state — many are chronically under-resourced and rely on small, recurring donations more than one-time large ones.
  • Normalize the conversation at home. If you have younger sisters, cousins, or nieces, be the person who talks about periods like it’s just biology — because it is.
  • Donate products, not just money, during pad drives, especially before monsoon season and before the school year starts, when supply often runs low.
  • Choose sustainable products where you can, and talk about them openly — cups and reusable pads are still seen as niche in a lot of households, and visibility helps.

Period poverty sits at the intersection of everything this blog cares about — women’s dignity, environmental impact, and access to basic health infrastructure. It’s a solvable problem. It just needs more people treating it like the public health issue it actually is, instead of a private embarrassment to whisper about.

How to Make Your Periods More Eco-Friendly (Menstrual Cups, Cloth Pads & More)

Somewhere between the ages of thirteen and now, most of us have gone through hundreds, maybe thousands, of disposable pads or tampons without ever really pausing to think about where they end up. I didn’t either — until I actually sat down and did the math on how much plastic one period alone quietly generates, month after month, year after year.

That math is what nudged me toward switching things up. It wasn’t overnight, and it wasn’t perfect. But here’s what I’ve learned along the way.

Why this even matters

A single disposable pad can contain the plastic equivalent of about four plastic bags, and most take centuries to break down. Multiply that by a lifetime of periods, and the number gets uncomfortable fast. None of this is said to guilt anyone — most of us were just never given other options growing up. But once you know better options exist, it’s worth at least knowing what they are.

Menstrual Cups

This was the one I was most nervous about, and also the one that ended up changing the most for me. A menstrual cup is a small, flexible silicone cup that collects (rather than absorbs) flow, and can be worn for up to 8-12 hours depending on flow. One cup, with proper care, lasts several years — which means the “waste” from years of periods shrinks down to essentially one small object.

The learning curve is real for the first cycle or two — figuring out folding techniques, finding the right size, getting comfortable with insertion and removal. I won’t pretend that part was smooth. But by the second cycle, it stopped feeling unfamiliar, and by the third, I couldn’t imagine going back.

Reusable Cloth Pads

For days when a cup doesn’t feel right, or for anyone easing in more gradually, cloth pads are a solid middle step. They work exactly like disposable pads but are washable and reusable for years. A lot of brands now make ones with the same wings, absorbency levels, and comfort you’d expect from disposable versions — the only extra step is a quick rinse and wash after use.

Period Underwear

This one requires zero adjustment period (no pun intended). It looks and wears like regular underwear but has built-in absorbent layers. It’s especially useful for lighter days, overnight wear, or as backup alongside a cup. For anyone hesitant to jump straight into cups, this is often the gentlest starting point.

What I’d tell someone just starting out

Start with one switch, not all of them at once. Trying to overhaul your entire routine in one cycle is a fast way to feel overwhelmed and give up. Pick the option that feels least intimidating and let that be the only change for a cycle or two.

Give it more than one try. The first cycle with a cup or cloth pad is rarely the smoothest — that’s normal, not a sign it’s “not for you.” Most of the discomfort is about unfamiliarity, not the product itself.

It’s okay to mix and match. You don’t have to pick just one. Plenty of people use a cup for heavy days, period underwear for light days, and keep a couple of disposables around for emergencies. Sustainability doesn’t require perfection — it just asks for a direction.

The bigger picture

Switching how you manage your period isn’t going to single-handedly fix a global waste problem, and it doesn’t need to be framed that way to be worth doing. It’s a small, personal choice that adds up over a lifetime — less waste, less recurring cost, and for a lot of people, honestly, more comfort once the adjustment period (again, no pun intended) is over.

Have you tried any of these? I’d genuinely love to hear what worked or didn’t for you.