COMMENT | Pads, periods, and all that's within

COMMENT | Once when I was a little girl, my mom rushed me to cycle to our kampung grocery store to get her a box of sanitary pads. Not knowing what they were or how to ask the shopkeeper for one, I was given an empty box as a sample.

I remember my mom folding the empty box and tying it with a rubber band so I could easily fit it into my pocket.

“Go straight to the store and come straight home. And remember, do not show the box to anyone, okay?” my mom reminded me a few times before I took off.

When I reached the store, I went straight in, found the shopkeeper and pulled half of the folded box out of my pocket. The shopkeeper nodded as if he understood the secrecy of the mission and went to the back of the shop where sanitary pad boxes were kept, away from the lurking eyes of the public.

When he came back, he brought along a new sanitary pad box wrapped nicely in newspaper and packed in a plastic bag.

I cycled home with my mom’s wrapped sanitary pad in my basket. My brother who was waiting at our house gate...