Seán Moncrieff: I’m a man. If I had periods I’d never shut up about it

Because there’s a pretty high turnover of various children staying over on various nights in our house, there’s a lot of changing sheets. Sometimes there can be stains: fake tan or spilled make-up. Or blood.

Invariably, the daughter responsible for the stains fails to mention them, out of general slobbishness rather than embarrassment. Because I’ve spent most of my life in mostly female households, I’ve been lucky in my exposure to menstruation.

I can’t remember when I was first dispatched to the shop to buy tampons, except that it was many years ago and that I felt a bit odd about it at the time and afterwards, and stupid for having felt odd. The shop assistant didn’t look at me funny or scream in horror. It was a completely natural purchase for a completely natural function.

In our house, periods can come up a lot in conversation. It’s part of the news cycle (yeah, that was deliberate). I applied for a job. I bought new shoes. I heard this great podcast. I have my period.

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As it’s part of their lives, and something that can affect their lives, it should be mentioned. They talk a lot too about menstruation-related issues. The cost of tampons. Wearing white clothes. Being caught short on a night out. The vicious cramps Herself used to get when she was a teenager. Daughter Number One’s unfortunate experiment with a menstrual cup.

I’ve no idea if my household is typical in this regard. But I do know that outside its walls, my daughters – none of whom you could accuse of being shy about expressing themselves – would be a bit more circumspect about their menstrual news. And that’s completely typical. A lot of people – men and women – don’t like to hear about it.

Similarly, I work in an office where women are in the majority, but you never hear periods mentioned. Not that I’m mad keen to know. I’m not keeping score. But given that it is a central and regular aspect of their lives, it is an odd omission.

You can declare to the office that you’re a bit wrecked because you had a bad night’s sleep, or you have a cold or a hangover. But not because you’re bleeding.

There are all sorts of reasons for that. No woman wants to open herself up to the accusation that she is somehow using her period as an excuse; or that she’s a bit cranky because of it; that opens up the crazy woman trope, the idea that her professionalism and judgement are constantly compromised by the torrent of hormones within her. Instead, she’ll adhere to an employee model that is essentially male; one that doesn’t menstruate.

Of course no one should be forced to speak about periods if they don’t want to. Some simply think it’s a personal matter. Some, because it involves blood, feel a bit icky about it.

But there are also more ancient ideas that link blood and shame and a visceral disgust at this process. You can imagine druids and priests being terrified of it; at how women are physically linked to the cycle of life and death.

It is an awe-inspiring power, so of course that had to be quashed, had to be rebranded as something sick and transgressive; that it was best to keep quiet about it. Thousands of years of being told you’re dirty; that’s tough to shake off.

It’s a cliché, but it’s true. If men had periods, the way we organise work and sport and life in general would be completely different.

Tampons wouldn’t come in small, medium and large but super-whopper and ginormous. A boy getting his first period would be a cause for celebration, for fireworks and Manstruation parties. The idea of being ashamed would be laughable. I’m a man. If I had periods I’d never shut up about it.