The Problem With Florida House Bill 1069

"So if little girls experience their menstrual cycle in fifth grade or fourth grade, will that prohibit conversations from them since they are in the grade lower than sixth grade?" Florida state Representative Ashley Gantt asked during a subcommittee meeting.

Florida state Rep. Stan McClain, the sponsor of the proposed bill about which Rep. Gantt was asking — a bill that would prevent children from learning about menstruation in elementary school — responded that "it would."

Everyone I have told about this proposed bill has looked at me and said, “No way,” or “I don’t think that’s right.” But this bill is very real and it’s very terrifying.

It comes in a wave of restrictive legislation that’s descending upon schools in Florida, their sponsors promoting the idea that these bills are necessary to protect young Floridians and their education. But these bills seem less poised to protect children than to silence them — particularly silence young girls and LGBTQ+ students — by a group that is majority male and who don’t understand these students’ experiences.

In the case of the bill targeting discussion of menstruation, perhaps the legislators behind it didn’t fully comprehend that the sixth grade — the time they deemed appropriate to discuss menstruation — translates to an age group of 11 to 12 years old. Meaning girls who are under 11 years old would not be free to talk about their periods with other girls, their teachers, or any support staff.

Yet, it is not uncommon to see girls get their period before they turn 11. I got mine at 9, I know girls who got theirs at 8.

And although I had a great mother who helped me, the support I received from the staff at my school was important in helping me get to a place where I was comfortable and knew how to deal with my periods. My mother gave me so much support, but she wasn’t present to help me when a wave of cramps hit me like a fire truck in the middle of class while watching a video about how chocolate is made. It was a kind teaching assistant who took me out to the library and taught me that “curling up might make you feel better” whilst making me a cup of tea to soothe the pain. I still curl up with a cup of hot tea when I feel that way again.

And when I knew how to deal with my periods, talking about them with other girls who had gotten them early just like me, who had to grow out of carelessness and into a structured existence so early just like me, made it that much easier. We were going through it together in real time, able to laugh about this painful transition from being girls to becoming women when we could barely call ourselves the latter.

Mine is just one experience, and there are millions of others — some that don’t include supportive mothers who are willing to help their daughters out with their periods. Some children from low-income families depend on menstruation products they may be able to get from school. Some include girls living in houses where menstruation is shameful, leaving them to navigate a confusing and heartbreaking journey all on their own.

Although leaders in Florida have mentioned that preventing educators, staff, and other children from discussing menstruation wasn’t the bill’s intention, unless they change the wording of the legislation to accommodate those kinds of important conversations, intention will be irrelevant to the legislation’s effect.

The Florida legislature isn’t just banning a few girls from giggling about their periods, they’re banning a potential support system for young Floridian girls who didn’t ask to see one of the biggest changes in their lives so soon. They’re preventing schools from being safe havens for students, and, most importantly, from providing an education — informal or otherwise — on how to come out on the other side of this pivotal transition into womanhood.