During my current stay in Nepal, I have spoken casually with a relatively small but fairly diverse group of around 50 women and men about their experiences with or perspectives on menstruation. The majority expressed the same sentiments as Thulo Nani Lama and her granddaughter combined. They would, on one hand, assert that these practices no longer applied to them and, on the other, affirm that they (or their female family members) are still restricted when it comes to performing certain behaviours (touching food and going to the temple are the most common) while menstruating. Still others expressed having participated in a practice akin to the one Thulo Nani Lama took part in 76 years ago, in recent times.

The mind that has been conditioned to believe that females and males are equal, so should be treated as equal in every way, completely rejects such a system. In seeking to dismantle practices that seem to amplify gender-based inequality, however, we would be wise to look closely at why such practices arose in the first place, and who is being served by their continued enactment. We can confidently say that physical hygiene was one reason for a woman’s sequestration, and continues to be a factor that modifies women’s behaviour during menstruation in areas that lack water resources or access to appropriate sanitary items. The “why” that one usually reads about in publications about menstruation in Nepal are generally summarized as 1.) The practices are rooted in religiosity and superstition and 2.) The practices are just one more way to reinforce androcentrism within patriarchally driven societies. Both of these presuppositions can be supported through normative Sanskrit literature of South Asia, which present menstruation as a polluting agent, “reinforce(ing) the woman’s position as a potential threat to the orderly functioning of an androcentric social order” (Parker, 2024, p.11). Upon asking a female friend of mine, who lived outside of Kathmandu, if her and her sisters’ roles around the house were very different from those of her brother, she exclaimed, “Of course! He did not have to do anything! We did everything!” She continued to share that in many situations, menstruators were forbidden to touch food (which may result in their eating less) but were still required to do laborious work in the fields and other domestic chores. Yet, in my limited though intimate experience conversing with women of various social groups within Kathmandu proper, each expressed her partial if not complete appreciation of the “restrictions” placed around her during the time of her first and subsequent menses, due to the rest she was afforded by following them.

Such views, which come from women and express an overall appreciation for the codes of conduct during menstruation, may not be representative of Nepali women’s experience during menstruation as a whole. Still, this unexpected finding, that at least a certain population of women appreciate their family’s or culture’s menstruation regulations, demands one to look with greater scrutiny at the historical and modern-day underpinnings of such norms: What if the suggestion that a menstruating woman should stay away from the kitchen and temple provided her with the spiritual grounds for taking a break from cooking or participation in religious functions? What if the requirement for her to sleep in another room in adulthood offered her the opportunity to rest, rather than feeling obliged to comply with the sexual advancements of her husband? What if ceremonial practices of removing oneself from the sun, prior to its worshiping, made sense within a particular cosmological worldview, or were supportive of a young woman’s capacity to draw her senses inward, during what can otherwise be a confusing and emotionally destabilizing time? 

Finally, I encourage us to ponder, particularly those of us who are female, mothers and workers (homemakers, career people, etc): Is the social obligation to carry on life as normal (as is usually the case in the West) with all of its psycho-physical demands, any more empowering for women than their being restricted from participating in certain activities, during a time like menstruation or childbirth, when the female body and psyche are naturally facing a significantly greater degree of strain? These are a few of the questions that I believe warrant further examination, as we simultaneously (and rightly) question and oppose any exclusionary practices that threaten a menstruator’s health, safety or dignity. 

Conversations around equality for women in Nepal and the world at large must discuss equality as this word relates to female empowerment in the true sense of the word. What if a menstruating woman was, for even a few days, free to decide how she participated in social and domestic spheres, even if her decision was non-participation?