The menstrual standoff in South Africa: What do we do now?

2026-03-03 - 07:23

Anxiety, anger, hopelessness are among the emotions women have expressed after a University of the Free State study showed that some sanitary products sold in South Africa contain hormone-disrupting chemicals, including those marketed as free from harmful chemicals. It found that every single pad and pantyliner contained at least two of three endocrine-disrupting chemicals (EDC) substances. Although detected in low concentrations, researchers warn that long-term exposure raises serious health concerns and warrants urgent attention. Health complications include hormonal imbalance, infertility, endometriosis and cancer. Investigations underway for nine suppliers of sanitary pads The National Consumer Commission (NCC) has initiated its own investigation into nine sanitary pad suppliers whose products were apparently tested in the study. The suppliers include: Kimberly-Clark of SA (Pty) Ltd (Kotex); Protector and Gamble (Pty) Ltd (Always); Anna Organics; The Lion Match Company (Pty) Ltd trading as Comfitex; Here We Flo trading as Flo; Johnson & Johnson (Pty) Ltd trading as Stay Free; Premier Group of Companies trading as Lil-lets; Essity Hygiene and Health AB trading as Libresse South Africa; and My Time. “The investigation aims to review and assess the suppliers’ compliance with the provisions of the Consumer Protection Act (CPA), in particular sections 55 and 24,” said the NCC. “The CPA states that consumers have the right to receive goods that are reasonably suitable for their intended purposes. “The goods must be free of defects and usable and durable for a reasonable time.” The concerned suppliers are called to conduct tests on the affected products or to provide the latest laboratory results for EDC testing. “Once the NCC receives the results, these will be assessed to determine whether product recall provisions in terms of section 60 of the CPA should be invoked.” The NCC will make a judgment once suppliers respond to the concerns. Like a car stuck in the mud, many now don’t know where to turn because these disposables are their only option. Researchers advised the move to reusable sanitary pads and menstrual cups in the meantime, but that option is not as straightforward as suggested. Reusable options often come with their own burdens of hygiene and logistics. Blood, humiliation and the bathroom It’s just before noon at the University of Witwatersrand and second-year sociology student Naledi Dlamini folds herself onto the cold plastic toilet seat of a random bathroom on campus, fingers trembling as she peels away a once-bright reusable pad. The pad, threadbare and stained gray after dozens of washes, lies heavy in her hands and is soaked with a raw coppery smell. The sticky weight of blood clings to her skin, a reminder of every nerve-wracking hour spent between lectures, hoping she doesn’t leak. There’s no hiding here, not from the metallic tang in the air nor the gory sight of deep crimson, seeping and drying along the seams. She reaches for her backpack, a floral pouch waiting to be contained by a soggy reusable pad. The stench is a reminder of the tedious hand washing and deep soaking that awaits her when she gets back home. Reusable pads are meant to last five years, she knows, but that doesn’t cover what happens between classes; the awkward transit, the hand washing, the anxiety of drying a bloodied pad in communal residence laundry areas. The promise of reusables (sustainability, affordability, dignity) is clear. Naledi, like many, wanted to switch from disposables for the environment’s sake. And now women are encouraged to switch since the UFS study. But the harsh realities of lifestyle differences, water scarcity and accessibility make the choice far less straightforward. The first choice, always: disposables Disposable pads dominate 90% of South Africa’s feminine hygiene market share because, despite their environmental cost, they are the easiest option politically, socially and physically. The average retail price at major South African stores ranges around R2.41 per pad, with users spending upward of R20 to R50 per month. An average woman in South Africa discards roughly 240 disposable pads annually, contributing massively to an estimated 1.5 million tons of menstrual waste produced nationally each year. Each pad takes 500-800 years to decompose. However organic alternatives, though kinder to the planet, can cost up to R57 000 over a lifetime, 71% more than disposables. So, accessibility still divides the nation. Reusables: the real solution? Reusable pads are heralded online and in marketing as greener and more affordable, with lifetime costs around R4 000 to R5 000, which is about R20 000 less than disposables over five years. They generate a tiny fraction of landfill waste and offer a hopeful path out of “period poverty”. Yet, the upfront cost of a full reusable kit constitutes 49% to 64% of a poor household’s monthly income, excluding additional costs such as soap, water and a safe drying space which are luxuries that few have. On glossy, vibrant websites, own-brands like Palesa Pads, Subz and Dignity Dreams show their marketing videos emphasising long-term savings and environmental wins. But in South African public bathrooms, where sinks are communal and privacy is limited, that messaging feels far removed. What it’s actually like to use reusables Candice Chirwa, founder of Qrate, an NGO focusing on menstrual equity, highlights a disconnect: “Most bathrooms aren’t designed with menstruators in mind: no running water inside cubicles, no proper disposal bins and often no hooks for discreet hanging. “The choice to use reusables isn’t just about affordability or sustainability; it’s about whether the environment allows you to manage your period with dignity.” This environment, fueled by menstrual stigma, forces many like Naledi to avoid washing reusables during the day for fear of gossip or ridicule, instead choosing to wear the same pad or cup for longer than is safe. “That hesitation is a stigma colliding with infrastructure failure and it has real health consequences,” Chirwas says. “If someone can’t realistically use a reusable product because of their living conditions, then it’s unfair to guilt them into using one ‘for the planet.’ “Justice means balancing sustainability with dignity,” continues Chirwa. Mpho Moroka, a Stellenbosch University student, scrunched her nose in disgust when asked about resuables. “I don’t like the smell and admin of washing blood. I feel like [reusable pads] are a breeding ground for bacteria,” she said. She gave a scenario, imagining working at a corporate job “and you have to worry about washing your panties or menstrual cup? With what time?” Sorry, reusables cost how much in comparison? A single reusable pad from Palesa Pads retails for about R50-R80 (a steep upfront cost), designed to replace five years’ worth of disposables. At first glance, it’s cheaper than spending R20-R50 a month on 8-16 throwaway pads. But the “hidden” costs of time, water and wear and tear tally up. Amara Kassim, a psychology student, observes: “I spend less money, yes, but more energy and stress.” Many still keep disposables as backup for heavy flow days or emergencies. Boycotting and organic pads Menstrual experts have warned that despite pending investigations, the likelihood of the products being recalled is slim. “Major sanitary product brands generally do not recall their products because manufacturers maintain that their products are safe, adhere to current regulatory standards and that reported issues such as rashes or discolouration often result from individual sensitivities rather than manufacturing defects,” said Dr Vivian Mokome, founder of Dignity Organic Sanitary Pads. “Manufacturers often argue these levels are within safe, regulated limits,” she continued. Despite interventions, Mokome believes that this panic will be forgotten as time passes. Which is why she urges women to boycott these brands instead of expecting them to be removed from stores. Further, she recommends a move to organic products instead. Dignity manufactures biodegradable organic sanitary pads that mimic the features of a disposable pad, minus a few things. These pads hold four times as much fluid (200ml) but are also approved by the South African Health Products Regulatory Authority (SAHPRA). “They are free from heavy metals, pesticides and other harmful toxins,” she said. She, too, is against reusables as an alternative option for women. “There is no dignity in washing your own menstrual blood. Some women wash blood-stained clothes or bed sheets with bleach. There is concern they might do the same with sanitary towels, causing harm to their vulvas.” “We are introducing a health issue,” said Mokome. The great paradox remains In South Africa, the choice between disposable and reusable menstrual products highlights a painful truth: true sustainability is impossible without the infrastructure and economic means to maintain personal dignity. For many like Naledi, managing menstruation is a balancing act between biology, environment and economics. The choice between convenience and sustainability remains a painful one. “I love the idea of being sustainable,” Naledi says as she heads home to wash her reusable pad, “but sometimes, I just want something that works for where I actually live.” What works might actually be closer than women think. ALSO READ:CV Botoxing sees jobseekers trim CVs to beat age and salary filters