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Business Standard
3 days ago
- Science
- Business Standard
Menstruation in space: How women astronauts manage periods in orbit
In 1983, when Sally Ride was preparing to become the first American woman in space, National Aeronautics and Space Administration (Nasa) engineers posed an odd question: Would 100 tampons be enough for her seven-day mission? Her reply: 'That would be more than sufficient.' This awkward exchange has since become a symbol of how unprepared space programmes were for the reality of women's health in orbit. For decades, the male-dominated world of space exploration largely ignored the biological needs of half the population. But now, with more women heading to the stars, the question of how astronauts manage their periods in space has gone from taboo to tech. The early challenges of menstruation in space missions For years, space travel was considered a male domain. When the first astronauts went to space in the 1960s, the systems and suits were built exclusively with them in mind. The mere idea of a woman menstruating in space wasn't even on the checklist. In 1963, Soviet cosmonaut Valentina Tereshkova became the first woman in space. While a milestone, there's little public documentation on how—or if—her menstrual cycle was addressed. In 1964, a paper published in the American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology described women as 'temperamental psychophysiologic humans' unsuited for piloting spacecraft. The authors cited studies claiming menstruating women were more accident-prone and even suggested they might be responsible for unexplained air crashes. Some scientists speculated that menstrual blood could flow backward in zero gravity—a myth later debunked by Nasa medical experts. By the time Sally Ride made her historic flight in 1983, Nasa had to face reality: if women were going to space, they'd have periods there too. Unfortunately, the male engineers' understanding of menstruation was limited, to say the least. What happens to menstruation and periods in zero gravity? When it comes to periods in space, one might imagine a ghastly nebula of levitating blood. Scientists had similar worries. But gravity doesn't control your period. It turns out that while spaceflight affects many bodily systems, the female menstrual cycle remains largely unchanged. 'It can happen normally in space, and if women choose to do that, they can,' says Dr Varsha Jain, gynaecologist and researcher at King's College London. Astronaut Rhea Seddon, in a 2010 interview, recalled that female astronauts urged Nasa to treat menstruation as a 'non-problem until [it becomes] a problem.' Since no one knew what to expect, they suggested just sending women up—and bringing them back if anything went wrong. 'I'm not sure who had the first period in space,' Seddon said, 'but they came back and said, 'Period in space, just like period on the ground. Don't worry about it.'' The challenge isn't the menstruation itself—it's managing hygiene and waste in a cramped, pressurised cabin with limited water and privacy. Some waste-disposal facilities on the International Space Station can now handle human blood, but they weren't originally designed to do so. Another challenge is calculating the added weight, storage, and waste management for items like tampons and sanitary products. Why most astronauts suppress periods with hormonal birth control Today, most female astronauts choose to suppress their periods entirely during missions. This is done safely through continuous hormonal birth control—either with pills or long-acting methods such as IUDs or injections. Nasa medical teams now work with astronauts ahead of missions to determine the best approach based on individual needs. Some prefer to keep menstruating naturally, and that option is supported too. Nasa physician and astronaut Serena Auñón-Chancellor has spoken openly about these choices. 'It's a choice,' she said. 'Some women choose to menstruate, some don't. Either way, we train for it.' Still, long missions—such as a three-year journey to Mars—present new challenges. According to Dr Jain, astronauts on such missions would need about 1,100 pills, adding cost, packaging, weight and waste. That makes long-acting reversible contraceptives (LARCs), such as implants or hormonal IUDs, a more convenient solution. Inclusive space design: Meeting female astronaut health needs Menstruation is just one part of the larger push to make space travel inclusive. From designing space suits to fit more body types to conducting biomedical research on hormonal differences, space agencies are beginning to acknowledge the diversity of human needs. More than 100 women have flown to space since Valentina Tereshkova, but the systems still lag behind. Future missions to the Moon, Mars and beyond will require safe, comfortable and sustainable menstrual care in microgravity. Nasa, the European Space Agency and private companies are now developing improved hygiene systems, reusable products and real-time body monitoring tools. And it's clear: the more women involved in designing space missions, the more thoughtfully inclusive those systems become. Why menstruation in space is a symbol of design equity Managing menstruation in space may seem minor compared to interstellar navigation or building Moon bases. But it highlights a larger truth: The systems we build reflect the people we expect to use them. For too long, spaceflight ignored women's biology. Today, mission checklists include tampons, hormonal therapy and custom-fit suits—paving the way for a future where anyone can go to space as their full, human self. And no, Nasa no longer packs 100 tampons for a seven-day trip. We've come a long way—and still have a long way to go.
Yahoo
28-01-2025
- Yahoo
Ali Velshi: Trump's pardon for anti-abortion protesters sends a clear signal to extremists
This is an adapted excerpt from the Jan. 26 episode of Velshi. In 1970, Dr. George Tiller took over his father's family practice in Wichita, Kansas, after his dad passed away. When his dad's old patients started rolling in, Tiller learned a secret: His father had been providing safe, but illegal, abortions to his patients for decades. It had not been Tiller's plan to go into family practice, much less women's health, but he was so moved by meeting his father's patients and hearing their stories — seeing the need his father had been filling — that once the Supreme Court affirmed the right to an abortion with Roe v. Wade in 1973, Tiller began a decadeslong career, eventually becoming Wichita's lone abortion provider. While his father operated in secret, Tiller became perhaps the most famous public face of abortion. To the anti-abortion movement, he became a target. In 1986, his clinic was bombed overnight. No one was hurt but there was extensive damage. Tiller hung a sign outside that said, 'Hell no, we won't go.' In 1991, thousands of anti-abortion activists descended onto Tiller's clinic in Wichita in what they dubbed the 'Summer of Mercy' — weeks of protests and blockades designed to shut down the clinic and end abortion access. Protesters would block the entrance to the clinic and adjacent streets, screaming threats and prayers at patients. Over the course of six weeks, 2,600 people were arrested. In 1993, Tiller was shot five times by an anti-abortion extremist outside his clinic, though he managed to survive. But 16 years later, in 2009, another anti-abortion activist shot Tiller, this time during services at his church in Witchita, killing him. But Tiller wasn't the only one being terrorized by violent anti-abortion extremists. Clinics across the country were vandalized and blockaded. Doctors, nurses and volunteers were stalked, harassed and assassinated. Between 1977 and 1988, there were 110 cases of arson or firebombing by anti-abortion extremists, according to researchers at the American Journal of Obstetrics and Gynecology. And in 1993, the same year Tiller walked away from that attempted assassination, an OB-GYN in Pensacola, Florida, named Dr. David Gunn was shot dead outside the abortion clinic where he worked. Gunn was the first known targeted killing of an abortion provider in America. The following year two receptionists were shot and killed and five others wounded at a pair of Boston area clinics. In all, at least 11 people have been killed in attacks on abortion clinics since 1993. This was the political climate in which then-President Bill Clinton signed the Freedom of Access to Clinic Entrances or 'FACE' Act in 1994. It prohibits anyone from using 'force, threat of force, intimidation or injury' to prevent someone from 'obtaining or providing reproductive health services.' On Thursday, 23 people convicted of violating that act were pardoned by President Donald Trump. One of them, Lauren Handy, was sentenced to five years in prison for essentially invading a Washington, D.C. clinic. She posed as a patient with an appointment before eight of her allies barged into the building and blocked the doors with chains and ropes. When police searched her home, they found five fetuses Handy claimed to have taken from a medical waste truck driver outside the clinic. In an interview with New York Magazine, Handy said, 'I've accepted the reality that my life will be in and out of jail.' Not so. The president has pardoned her and her co-conspirators. On Friday, Trump's Justice Department took things a step further and issued an order curtailing all prosecutions under the FACE Act, save for 'extraordinary circumstances.' So despite Trump's insistence on the campaign trail that states will do what they want with abortion, his pardon of people convicted for violating the FACE Act and his order that it largely no longer be enforced in the future sends a very clear signal to women and women's health providers: The government will not protect abortion rights even in states where they are still guaranteed. And, worse, is the signal he's sending to extremists: It is now acceptable to make use of threats, intimidation and even perhaps violence to shut down abortion clinics. Armand Manoukian and Allison Detzel contributed. This article was originally published on
