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What the Next Question Doesn't Ask

  • Jun 1
  • 2 min read

Updated: Jun 22

Whenever Solidarity Engineering visits a new camp or center, I sit down with women and hear out their stories. I usually have our needs assessment survey to guide me through the conversation, but many times it gets derailed to a struggle the women want to highlight.


Whether it's the difficulty of being a widowed mother to orphans, or how the war has increased the already high cost of living.


I become paralyzed sitting in that chair, not knowing how to provide comfort or a word of encouragement. And when I stare at the screen, the next question usually addresses access to menstrual products. 


It's an abrupt transition, of course, but in a way it's validating. 



The struggle that displaced and refugee women face doesn't manifest in one silo. It seeps into every aspect of their lives, and the one that is often overlooked is how they manage their menstrual cycle.


The numbers weren't surprising after those conversations. Research shows that over 70% of women in Palestinian refugee camps in Jordan reuse menstrual products. Those who do also tend to show increased urinary tract infection symptoms. Our surveys were consistent with these findings: women were using fabric and other makeshift methods to manage their periods, and a significant number reported UTI symptoms.


An immediate temporary fix is to distribute menstrual products and soap, which we do in our hygiene kits. But they're usually enough for one month, or even less when there are multiple menstruating women in the household.



The idea of hosting reusable menstrual pad workshops had been floating around for a while. Erin had hosted one in Guatemala in 2021, and it was really successful. So I started gauging community interest, and safe to say, women were intrigued and excited.


When I brought the idea to some of our partners in the target community, they were very hesitant and… almost disgusted. Some bystanders even commented that it wasn't believable women couldn't spare 1 JD to buy disposable pads (that's $1.41 USD).


Despite the initial resistance, and with the support of Auntie Sewing Squad, we hosted several iterations of the workshop. In gathering feedback from participants, we found that not all women ended up using the reusable pads. But those who did found real relief. They finally stopped counting down to the end of the month, dreading whether they'd be able to afford pads again. 


That's what the women I sat with in those assessments were really describing – the need for  reliable long-lasting alternative – even when the survey had already moved on to the next question.



Protection isn't built with a single hygiene kit. It's built by listening, learning, and creating solutions that women can rely on long after an emergency passes.




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