You know the saying: everyone has a story. The truth is, we all have many—and they evolve as we do. Some stories come quietly. Others arrive screaming. And then there are the ones we’ve been told never to tell at all.
For too long, period stories have been silenced. Stigmatized. Hidden behind euphemisms and shame. Even now, in 2025, menstruation remains taboo in boardrooms, classrooms, and family dinner tables. That silence isn’t just uncomfortable—it’s dangerous. When we’re taught that periods are gross, dirty, or embarrassing, we don’t talk about what’s normal or what isn’t. We don’t ask for help when something’s wrong. We don’t push for policy. We suffer silently.
That ends here.
BLEED: period stories written to be shared is a bold new coffee table book that doesn’t whisper—it shouts. Conceived by joni's CEO and co-founder, Linda Biggs, BLEED is deeply embedded in joni's mission for accessible period care and menstrual equity. This anthology breaks open the conversation with raw, real, unapologetic stories. Each contribution is personal—but together, they’re political. A reclamation. A reminder that when we speak, we spark change. When we write, we reframe. And when we release our stories, we give others permission to do the same.
These are the stories that shape us—and reshape what’s possible.
BLEED launched on May 28, 2025, Menstrual Hygiene Day, and we celebrated with an online launch and caught up with some of the contributors. Here are the reflections from that event about how sharing stories helps break the silence and how the authors are feeling now that their stories are out in the world.
Cultural Silence and the Pushback of Menstrual Visibility
“In West Africa, they send women to the ‘hut of rest’ when they bleed—but to me, it felt like the hut of shame.”
— Assetou Coulibaly, Founder and Curator, AKA CIA
In her BLEED story, “Red Alert: A Story of Shock and Toilet Paper,” Assetou Coulibaly takes us back to a moment many of us remember: her first period, arriving unannounced in the middle of a public shopping mall with no supplies in sight. What followed was shock, improvisation, and a deeply personal reckoning with shame.
Later in life, visiting her family in Mali, she witnessed the practice of sending menstruating women to a designated “hut of rest”—a space meant for solitude but soaked in silence and stigma. It didn’t sit right. Instead of internalizing the shame, Assetou decided to talk about it—with friends, through art, and now, through BLEED. Her story is a reminder that cultural silence can be broken by creative resistance. The more we name it, the less power it holds.
When Period Pain Is Normalized—Until It’s Not
“I was put on the pill at 12. Nobody talked about it. I didn’t question it—I just knew the pain was unbearable. Now I wonder…what if someone had actually listened?”
— Saundra Pelletier, CEO of Evofem Biosciences
In “From Penguin Walks to Purpose,” Saundra Pelletier reflects on a childhood shadowed by unbearable menstrual pain—so intense it affected how she walked, moved, and lived. The solution, according to her doctor, was birth control. At 12.
With no conversation about alternatives and no open dialogue with the women around her, Saundra stayed on hormonal birth control for years. Looking back, especially after facing a cancer diagnosis, she wonders: What if she’d known what was normal? What if her symptoms had been validated instead of managed in silence?
Today, Saundra is a global leader in reproductive health and the creator of a new form of birth control. Her story in BLEED underscores that empowerment begins with education—and that silence can have consequences.
Reconnecting with the Body Through Perimenopause
“To have a woman’s body felt shameful—unless it was sexualized. I didn’t see myself in any of it. So I left my body. I’m just now coming home.”
— Wendi Seskus-James, Content Manager at joni
Wendi Seskus-James’s story, “Coming Home,” is about something many of us never talk about: the long, slow process of reconciling with our bodies after years of disconnect.
As a highly sensitive person growing up in a culture that prized sexualized femininity and scorned periods as “gross,” Wendi internalized the belief that something about her was wrong. She felt shame not just about menstruation—but about embodiment itself. She coped by disconnecting.
Now in perimenopause, Wendi sees this transition not as an ending but a return. A soft, powerful reconnection. A homecoming. Writing her story for BLEED was an act of healing—for herself and, hopefully, for anyone else who’s been made to feel less-than because of their body.
From Lived Experience to Systemic Change
“I stood in food bank lines with my mom waiting for period products. That’s not just unfair—it’s unhealthy. And it’s unacceptable.”
— Linda Biggs, CEO and Co-Founder of joni
Linda Biggs knows what it’s like to go without. Her story is one of resourcefulness—but also of injustice. Makeshift pads made of toilet paper were a reality growing up. So were food bank visits for basic "feminine hygiene" products.
As a mother now, she knows this isn’t just about dignity—it’s about health. That’s why she co-founded joni in 2020, creating access to safe, sustainable, and ethically made period care, while giving back to communities in need through donations and partnerships. BLEED was born from the stories she heard along the way—countless people sharing their period journeys, often for the first time.
This book is her answer. A beautiful, unapologetic space to say: You’re not alone. You matter. And your story deserves to be told.
The Science of Story and Solidarity
There’s something alchemical that happens when we share our stories. Science tells us that storytelling—especially when met with empathy—can release oxytocin, the hormone that fosters connection and trust. It’s how we build bridges between individual experience and collective understanding. It’s how we begin to heal.
And this is the true power of BLEED.
In breaking the silence around menstruation, these stories do more than reflect pain, shame, or resilience—they create solidarity. They invite others to step forward, to say “me too,” to feel seen.
This is what happens when we talk.
This is what happens when we listen.
We stop hiding.
We start changing.
And together, we shape a new story—one of dignity, power, and unapologetic truth.