Bleeding Boundaries: Men and The Paradox of Menstruation

 Sharing a man's perspective on menstuation and dialogues surrounding the process.

As a research student in life sciences and medicine, I memorized the hypothalamic-pituitary-gonadal axis, traced hormonal feedback loops in neat arrows on whiteboards, and answered MCQs about endometrial shedding. However, beyond the clinical framework, I began to sense something as missing. An absence not in anatomy, but in awareness, in emotion. Particularly when it comes to menstruation and sexuality, most men, including myself, are handed more silence than understanding. We grow up distanced from something so central to life that it becomes invisible, tabooed, or, at best, awkwardly acknowledged with a cough and sideways glance.

In school, menstruation is treated as a private matter for girls. 

I remember how boys were either excused from the class when reproductive health was discussed or ignored the segment altogether. If we know anything at all, it comes from jokes, euphemisms, and vague discomfort. I recall once hearing a classmate whisper that his sister had "that problem" and was not allowed into the prayer room that week. Nobody challenged it. The unspoken message was clear: menstruation was something impure, something to endure, or hidden. This was believed to be masquerading as a tradition.

Years later, during my clinical rotations, I saw a woman quietly requesting extra sanitary napkins from a nurse and whispers that she needed a change. The male interns next to me looked away and were visibly uncomfortable. It struck me how deeply shame had sunk into the male psyche. Our discomfort was never about the blood itself—it was about the proximity to pain, the reminder that the body can bleed without injury, and that someone can suffer cyclically and still be expected to function. This threatened the illusion of control that many of us were raised to cling to.

Then comes the question that seems to hover unspoken in male circles: What about sex during menstruation? 

I have heard it asked in hostel rooms and anonymous Reddit forums—sometimes with genuine curiosity, other times with disgust or bravado. From a medical standpoint, there is nothing inherently wrong with having sex during menstruation, if both partners are comfortable. Period sex can relieve cramps, release endorphins, and even strengthen intimacy. Yet, culturally, it remains taboo, often framed as dirty, undesirable, or “something you just don’t do.”

This perception lies within. I once spoke with a friend—an otherwise progressive man—who admitted he felt repulsed by the idea because it reminded him of “female suffering.” That phrase lingered. What does it say about us, as men, if we turn away from pain when it becomes physically visible? What if our aversion to menstrual sex is not about the act itself but about our inability to engage deeply with vulnerability?

There is a paradox here: men are taught to desire women in fragmented and idealized ways. 

However, when faced with a natural process such as menstruation, which contradicts the polished, ever-ready fantasy, many retreat. This contradiction breeds confusion: How can we claim to love women and yet fear their blood, their cycles, and their changing needs?

In this context, sexuality mirrors emotional maturity. I have come to believe that accepting and embracing menstruation in an intimate relationship can be an act of radical empathy. It requires a man to understand that desires need not be sterilized or airbrushed. Sometimes, love is not about timing or mood lighting, but about choosing to be present even when things are messy—literally and metaphorically.

Yet this is not easy. I remember asking myself, Why did I hesitate to talk to my partner about her period? Why did I worry about whether she would find me intrusive or inappropriate if I asked how she felt? Why did I think of menstruation only when it disrupted our plans, and not as a recurring rhythm that shaped her emotional and physical state?

These questions have led me to the field of psychology. I started reading about emotional literacy and how men were conditioned to suppress both curiosity and care. From Freud to Jung, from modern masculinity studies to Eastern philosophies, I found the same thread: Men often fear what they cannot control or embody. Menstruation —precisely because it is internal, uncontrollable, and deeply embodied—is alien to many of us.

However, the real consequences of this distance are not only ignorance. This is a breakdown of the connection. When men are not taught to talk about menstruation, they are also not taught to listen to it. When they cannot acknowledge their partners’ physical vulnerability, they begin to fear their emotional vulnerability. This silent fear festers to emotional detachment, miscommunication in relationships, and in some cases, sexual frustration that neither partner knows how to address.

A close friend shared how his girlfriend became distant during her period and would often cry, feel overwhelmed, or snap unexpectedly. He admitted that he did not know how to do so. “Should I give her space or try to talk?” he asked me. What he really wanted to know was this: How do I hold space for pain that I will never feel? That is, to me, the heart of masculine emotional growth in learning to sit with discomfort without fleeing.

Philosophically, menstruation challenges the Cartesian split between the mind and body. Descartes said, “I think, therefore I am,” but menstruation seems to say, “I bleed, therefore I feel.” It is a reminder that being human is not only about cognition, but also about sensation, rhythm, loss, and renewal. For men to understand menstruation is not just to learn about a biological process—it is to accept that we, too, are vulnerable to cycles of emotion, uncertainty, and hormonal shifts in quieter ways.

I believe that it is time for men to stop standing at the periphery of this conversation. It is not with the intention of taking over but to witness, support, and grow. We need to normalize the discussion of menstrual pain, period sex, and emotional flux that comes with hormonal shifts. We need to create spaces in friendships, bedrooms, and healthcare settings where menstruation is not something to be tiptoed around.

Some may say that this is not a man’s concern. But I disagree. If you love someone who menstruates, if you work with them, live with them, or even simply share the world with them, menstruation is already part of your life.

The question was, Do you want to be an outsider, or do you want to be present?

As an individual who examines the physical body while also attending to the spiritual aspect, I contend that authentic masculinity is characterized by empathy towards it and never by dominance over suffering. To love comprehensively necessitates understanding, or at the very least, an attempt to do so. This endeavor requires dialogue, inquiry, and the dismantling of ingrained shame. Only through these actions can men begin to accept the complex and inherently imperfect nature of human existence.

© Ravi Teja Mandapaka?