This piece is written by Bry, a multimedia arts student who uses storytelling to document lived experiences and amplify real-life voices. Rooted in curiosity, empathy, and critical reflection, their work explores how personal narratives connect to broader social issues.
Written from the perspective of someone present in the space, this piece reflects Bry’s observations and reflections during Lunas Collective’s creative care sessions with menstruators. The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely their own and do not necessarily reflect those of the organization.
When we were little kids, we used to play different games. These games became a way to express our creativity and explore our interests—sometimes we stumbled, we lost, we won—collecting experiences and lessons along the way. Who would have thought that after a decade or two, these same acts of play can take on a new meaning: becoming powerful ways to process real-life struggles.
When these forms of creativity are used to explore deeply personal and often stigmatized, unheard experiences, what does menstrual dignity truly look like?
On March 7 and 8, 2026, Lunas Collective conducted a creative care session for their research project, “POWER, PERIOD: An Exploratory Research on the Meaning of Menstrual Dignity through Collective Care.” Diverse participants were invited to share their stories and experiences through doll-making, poem, human tableau, role play, drawing, and other art forms, reimagining what dignity and care look like in the context of their lived experiences.
Menstrual Sensation Through Body Scan
The workshop started with a guided body scan, participants notice where the memory holds and locate “sites of feeling” when they think of menstruation. “Parang hinihiwa yung ulo sa gitna,” the group shared the same sensation with one another.
These sensations were also translated into movement—not as a performance, but as a way of expression. Participants with diverse abilities described their movements, some with the help of a sign language interpreter, and each movement was mirrored by the group—an early gesture of recognition, empathy, and collective care.
After the body scan, the group was given materials such as cardstock, coloring materials, pencils and pens, glitter, different-colored yarns, sequins, and acrylic paint. Each participant was asked to create a “Doll of Dignity” and write a poem reflecting their experiences and insights from the body scan and group sharing.
Safe Space: Opportunity for Collective Sharing
The workshop opened a space not just for storytelling, but also for participants to deeply listen to their bodies. They shared how menstruation is not a linear experience, but rather a constant shifting between pain, care, and adaptation. Some spoke about remedies that worked for them: drinking soda to ease the flow, using heating pads, while others found comfort in rest and stillness. Food also became part of the equation—what may seem harmless to the body, like langka (jackfruit), can trigger dysmenorrhea during menstruation.
This collective sharing revealed a pattern: menstruators learn to read their bodies over time through lived experiences. Every month brings anticipation, discomfort, and sometimes dread—but also preparation. Comfort becomes intentional, and care for oneself and others becomes practiced. Menstruation was described as both disruptive and instructive. It interrupts daily routines, limits movement, and reshapes plans. Yet at the same time, it signals people to slow down, to listen, and to respond—reminding them that pain signals the body’s presence and needs.
“Kahit ayaw man natin siya sa ilang araw, hihingin mo pa rin na dumating siya buwan-buwan,” a participant shared. Menstruation, though often unwanted, becomes something expected. It is a natural, uncontrollable cycle that demands readiness. Yet within this lack of control, there is a different kind of power—the power to prepare, to understand, and to care for oneself. Here, dignity begins.
We Fight: Battles And Dignity
“We want to empower. The battle is not only within our bodies, but also within society.” Many participants traced their earliest encounters with menstrual stigma to everyday spaces—classrooms, homes, and workplaces. For some, menstruation was something to be hidden, joked about, or dismissed.
One menstruator recalled being told by a professor that they were “maarte” for expressing menstrual pain. Another shared how conversations about menstruation were discouraged in their home, especially in public spaces. These experiences reinforced a culture of silence, where menstruation became taboo. This silence becomes even more complex when layered with gender and identity. Transgender men in the group spoke about the double burden of experiencing menstruation while navigating discrimination. “Mabigat, doble ang hiya,” one shared, highlighting how menstruation can intensify feelings of exclusion.
“The cycle of shame can become a cycle of care.” In this sense, dignity is relational. It is built through spaces where people feel seen, supported, and understood—not only by their peers, but also by institutions.
Menstrual Dignity in Different Institutions
Menstruators also named barriers that prevent menstrual dignity from being fully realized. Responsibilities such as schoolwork, household chores, and profession demands often override the body’s need for rest. Even during significant life events, menstrual pain can overshadow what should have been joyful or memorable experiences.
Financial constraints also become part of this reality. Menstrual products, though essential, remain inaccessible for many. Some participants shared stories of people cutting cloth to use as makeshift napkins, while others pointed out inconsistencies in public health priorities: “Why are condoms free while menstrual products are not?” Workplaces and public spaces were also described as unaccommodating, especially in male-dominated fields. Facilities, resources, and policies rarely account for menstrual needs. Even when support exists, it is not always accessible.
Participants emphasized that dignity requires more than individual coping—it demands systemic change. This includes government-funded menstrual products, inclusive healthcare, and policies that recognize the diverse realities of menstruators. Education also plays a crucial role. Many shared that they only learned about menstruation after experiencing it, revealing gaps in early and accessible information.
Awareness creates space. But awareness alone must also be intentional and inclusive—reaching different communities, including Deaf and marginalized groups, while holding institutions accountable.
Reimagining Dignity Through Creativity and Care
On the second day, participants revisited their creations, connecting their dolls to their inner child and their first experiences of menstruation. Through yarn, color, and texture, participants reflected on experiences marked by confusion, fear, curiosity, and eventually understanding.
This creative process revealed something essential: when people are given safe spaces, expression flows. Art became a bridge, connecting personal experiences to collective understanding. While pain remained a shared experience, participants recognized that its manifestations differ from one another. Some found relief in movement and physical activity, while others experienced comfort in stillness. Emotional responses also varied—some chose isolation to manage mood swings, while others found comfort in being cared for.
This showed how support is deeply personal. It can look like preparing warm compresses, offering food, providing financial help, or simply asking, “Kumusta ka?” It can also mean respecting one’s autonomy, allowing menstruators to define what they need, rather than assuming their limitations.
As participants reimagined menstrual dignity, they described a world without shame, where care is normalized and people have control over how they navigate their time and bodies. A world where menstruation does not hinder participation, but is understood as part of everyday life.
The workshop revealed that menstrual dignity is not a fixed concept. It is continuously shaped through experience, words, and collective action. It lives in small gestures of care, in the courage to speak, and in the systems we choose to build.
And like the games we once played as children, it invites us to imagine, to create, and to begin again—this time, with intention.