Free Flow: The Cultural Story of Menstruation by Elissa Stein, Susan Kim Page A

Mitchell, a hysteria specialist. He famously offered depressed men the “West Cure,” in which he urged them to go west, have rugged adventures in the wild, and then sit down and write about it. To his female patients, however, he prescribed the “Rest Cure”—which consisted of isolated bed rest for as long as two months, forced feedings, occasional electroshock therapy, and absolutely no reading and writing. Gilman later wrote damningly of her ordeal in her terrifying story, published in 1892, The Yellow Wallpaper, in which the heroine is literally driven insane by such a cure.
    It wasn’t until the frighteningly recent 1950s that the diagnosis of hysteria, at least as it related to unexplainable female behavior, was finally, at long last, laid to rest, after one of the longest runs by any faux medical condition in history. By then, the field of psychology had far greater understanding about depression, anxiety, and other mood disorders, and so women suffering from any of those could now get a more concrete diagnosis than hysteria, as well as a more appropriate therapy. What’s more, by the 1950s, women had vastly more opportunities to be engaged in the world around them and challenged by their lives, strength, and interests. The 1950s may not have been a feminist mecca, but women had far more rights than ever before in history.
    But here’s an interesting thought: hysteria, which was one of the most frequently diagnosed diseases in history, was officially removed from their Diagnostic and Statistical Manual by the American Psychiatric Association in 1952. And yet the following year, the term “premenstrual syndrome” was coined by Dr. Katharina Dalton. The National Health Service currently lists over 150 symptoms for PMS, including: feeling irritable and bad tempered, fluid retention and feeling bloated, mood swings, feeling upset or emotional, insomnia (trouble sleeping), difficulty concentrating, backache, muscle and joint pain, breast tenderness, tiredness, appetite changes, or food cravings.
    Sound familiar? Hysteria by any other name …

Chapter 5
    SEEING RED
    H ARRIDAN. SHREW. BATTLEAXE, SPITFIRE, NAG. Termagant, if you’re feeling literary, or just plain bitch, if you’re not.
    There have been derogatory words for moody, temperamental, argumentative women for centuries. When Shakespeare wrote The Taming of the Shrew, after all, he sure wasn’t talking about how to train a small foraging land mammal. The word “bitch” goes back to at least 1400. In an 1811 British dictionary, it’s described as “the most offensive appellation that can be given to an English woman, even more provoking than that of ‘whore.’”
    While one may ponder at length about which is actually worse, being called a bitch or a whore, the fact remains that society seems to hold the Difficult Woman in a truly special position of distaste and contempt, even hatred. While no one really enjoys being shrieked at by anyone, regardless of the shrieker’s gender, there appears to be far greater dislike of the woman, rather than the man, who blows up, chokes with quivering fury, or sobs with impotent despair.
    And we’re not just talking about men who hate it. Women are often the first to accuse another woman of being a bitch, and they often secretly find endless blame and deep humiliation when it comes to their own frayed tempers, angry outbursts, and tearful tirades. We ourselves have lain awake at three in the morning, bitterly regretting the way we had screamed at our families earlier, burst into racking sobs at a difficult meeting, blown up at a well-intentioned spouse. We picture our faces red with anger, our eyes bulging with rage and/or self-pitying tears, and we feel a deep, quivering shame. Why did I do that? Why didn’t I just let it go? What’s wrong with me, anyway?

    © 2008 Bredette Dyer, www.orionstars.com
    After all, you’d have to be either Madonna or just weirdly, preternaturally self-assured not to have