Bleeding beyond boundaries

Samar Sharma’s powerful journey highlights the struggle of trans men with menstruation, shedding light on gender dysphoria, bodily autonomy, and the need for inclusive menstrual support, writes Poorvi Gupta.

Samar Sharma realised at a young age that he was “a boy trapped in a girl’s body.” His menstrual journey, beginning in seventh grade, was one of confusion, shame, and isolation. As his body developed in biologically female ways, Samar found himself at odds with his own identity. When he first started menstruating, discovering that this was a “biological woman’s” function filled him with disgust. “I just wanted to get it over with,” he recalls.

Now 22, Samar reflects on how his awareness of being male, paired with puberty, caused intense emotional turmoil. “I hated how my body was changing,” he shares, adding that menstruation only amplified his gender dysphoria. The physical changes felt like a reminder that his body wasn’t in sync with how he saw himself, leading to deep body dysmorphia.

To cope, Samar began taking Meftal Spas three times a day to manage menstrual cramps. He carried extra undergarments and pads to school to avoid stains. At his conservative school, Samar was the only student who wore pants and a shirt instead of the traditional salwar suit — an act of personal freedom that also led to exclusion.

At home, his family refused to acknowledge his gender identity. His attempts to express discomfort with his assigned gender were met with rejection, leaving him increasingly alienated. At 16, unable to bear it any longer, Samar ran away. Cutting his hair short for the first time marked the beginning of living as the man he knew he was.

In Chandigarh, Samar supported himself as a grocery store assistant. Life felt somewhat more manageable, but challenges remained. The first time he had to use a public washroom while menstruating was especially traumatic. “I never used the women’s restroom because of my dysphoria, and I never used the men’s because I thought they only had urinals,” he says. During one emergency at work, he had to enter the women’s restroom, only to be stopped by a guard who mistook him for a man sneaking in. Explaining himself was humiliating. “It was gut-wrenching,” he recalls.

At 20, Samar began Hormone Replacement Therapy (HRT), which stopped his periods but didn’t resolve his discomfort entirely. In December 2023, he underwent a hysterectomy to remove his uterus. For Samar, the surgery wasn’t just about ending menstruation but about removing the final reminder of a body that didn’t align with his identity. He saved for months and raised funds to afford it. “Menstruation was a monthly reminder of my female body,” he says. “The hysterectomy was crucial for me to feel truly like a man.”

For him, masculinity isn’t only about physical appearance. “It’s about being true to myself,” he says. Continuing HRT helps him achieve a masculine aesthetic, but the hysterectomy was the final piece of his transition. While some may view such steps as purely cosmetic, for Samar, it was about autonomy and aligning his physical self with his inner identity.

The mental and emotional toll of his menstrual experiences is something Samar now speaks about openly. His story highlights the often-invisible struggles of trans men who menstruate, as well as the urgent need for greater understanding and support. Beyond social stigma, the lack of resources and research on trans men’s menstrual experiences adds to the burden they carry.

Activists are pushing for change. Radha Paudel, founder of the Global South Coalition for Dignified Menstruation, stresses the need to view menstruation as a human issue, not just a women’s issue. According to her, “dignified menstruation” goes beyond access to products — it’s about respect, recognition, and inclusivity.

Similarly, Anurag Chauhan, a Dehradun-based activist with Humans for Humanity, works with trans men through WASH (Water, Sanitation, and Hygiene) projects. “Trans men’s experiences with menstruation are often erased in public health conversations,” Chauhan says. His initiative creates safe spaces for trans men, ensures access to suitable menstrual products, and sensitises healthcare providers to their unique needs. “Inclusion isn’t about political correctness,” he adds. “It’s about humanity.”

For Samar, this journey has been about more than just managing menstruation. It’s about reclaiming his identity and raising awareness of the invisible struggles faced by transgender men. His courage in sharing his story marks a step towards a more inclusive future where all who menstruate are acknowledged, regardless of gender.

Samar’s experience calls for a shift in how we think about menstruation, gender, and dignity. True menstrual equity means recognising the experiences of trans men and non-binary individuals and ensuring they receive the respect, resources, and care they deserve. Until then, the movement for “Dignified Menstruation” will remain incomplete, with invisibility its most persistent barrier.