The plastic trap of menstrual hygiene

In India’s booming menstrual hygiene market—projected to reach Rs 6,000 crore by 2026—sanitary pads have been recast from essential health items into lifestyle commodities. Glossy advertisements promise “ultra-comfort”, “leak-lock” protection, and “odour control”, presenting pads as symbols of modernity and empowerment. Yet beneath this polished branding lies a troubling paradox: products marketed as symbols of safety and dignity often undermine women’s health, environmental sustainability and financial wellbeing.

Sanitary pads contain components whose risks remain invisible to consumers. Superabsorbent Polymers (SAPs), petroleum-based compounds that enable the “dry feel”, can cause skin irritation and allergic reactions. Chlorine-bleached pulp produces dioxins — pollutants linked to endocrine disruption and cancer. Synthetic fragrances, promoted for “freshness”, often contain volatile organic compounds (VOCs) such as benzene and toluene, known for respiratory and hormonal toxicity.

These risks are amplified by the permeable nature of vaginal tissue, which allows chemicals entry into the bloodstream. Yet most users remain unaware, equating branding with safety.

India generates nearly 12.3 billion used pads each year, producing more than 113,000 tonnes of non-biodegradable waste. The sanitary pad market, valued at $825.3 million in 2024, is expected to reach $1.76 billion by 2033, according to IMARC Group. Pad usage had surged from 15% in 2010 to almost 78% by 2019–2021.

While this expansion reflects a public health gain, it also deepens the ecological burden. Pads are composed of up to 90% plastic and may take 500–800 years to decompose. Without systematic disposal, waste accumulates in landfills, drains, and water bodies.

Sanitation workers, many from marginalised communities, handle used pads without protective gear, exposing them to pathogens and toxic fumes. Low-temperature burning in rural incinerators releases dioxins and furans — pollutants often more harmful than the waste itself. A product designed for private comfort thus imposes hidden collective costs, undermining Sustainable Development Goal 12 on responsible consumption and production.

Affordability adds another layer of exclusion. Premium pads can cost up to 35% more than generic versions. While government schemes such as Suvidha (Re 1 pads) and the Menstrual Hygiene Scheme seek to address the gap, coverage remains inadequate.

As a result, “period poverty” persists. Many women still rely on unsafe substitutes — cloth, newspapers, even ash — practices linked to infections and reproductive complications. Over a lifetime, pad costs weigh heavily on low-income households. Studies show that affordability directly affects school and work attendance, reinforcing gender inequities.

Sustainable alternatives do exist. Menstrual cups made of medical-grade silicone can last up to a decade. Reusable cloth pads are washable and durable. Biodegradable pads made from banana fibre, bamboo, or corn starch offer additional eco-friendly options.

Yet adoption remains low due to stigma, lack of drying space, water scarcity and cost barriers. Without awareness campaigns, subsidies, and government procurement, these alternatives remain marginalised — a missed opportunity for both health and sustainability.

Regulation has lagged behind market growth. For years, sanitary pads were treated as medical devices but lacked binding standards or ingredient disclosure. The Medical Textiles (Quality Control) Order, 2023, now requires manufacturers to obtain Bureau of Indian Standards (BIS) licences and comply with tests for dermatological safety, chemical residues, and microbial load.

This is progress, but enforcement is weak. A loophole exempts self-help groups, leaving the poorest women exposed to weaker safety standards. Moreover, even BIS-certified pads are not required to list all ingredients on packaging. Consumers remain unaware whether their pads contain SAPs, chlorine-bleached pulp, or VOCs. Certification without transparency sustains the illusion of safety. This opacity is often rationalised by popularity — the assumption that if perfumed, ultra-thin pads dominate the market, they must be safe. The illusion of “premium protection” commodifies menstruation while sidelining essential issues of safety, dignity, and autonomy. True menstrual equity requires more than branding. It demands:

Stronger regulation with full ingredient disclosure,

Waste governance that classifies pads as biohazard waste,

Public investment in sustainable alternatives through subsidies and awareness, and

Integration of menstrual literacy into education to reduce stigma.

(Aishwarya is a PhD student, and Member-Indian Health Economics and Policy Association; Jose is professor and head, Amity School of Economics, Amity University, Haryana)