No One Should Have to Bleed on a Toilet: Menstrual Dignity and the Case for Indiana SB 444

by Andee Huxhold

At a prison commissary, women in gray uniforms pause to count their money, faced with difficult choices.

Danielle remembers the exact number: 20. That was the number of menstrual pads she was issued each month while incarcerated in a local jail. Once she ran out—and she often did—there was no help, no alternative, and no dignity. On one occasion, she sat on a toilet for eight hours straight to avoid bleeding through her uniform. “It was humiliating,” she told me. “But I didn’t have anything else.”

Her story is not unique. Across Indiana, incarcerated women report being denied menstrual hygiene products or forced to improvise with socks, rags, or scraps of bedding. Some face punishment for trying to manage menstruation with makeshift materials. Others, like Danielle, internalize the shame and pain that come with being unable to meet a basic health need. “It messes with your mind,” she said. “It makes you feel like you’re not even a woman anymore.”

That’s why Indiana Senate Bill 444 matters. Introduced in early 2025, the bill was referred to the Senate Committee on Corrections and Criminal Law but did not advance further during the session. SB 444 proposes requiring all county jails to provide menstrual hygiene products—pads and tampons—at no cost. It also seeks to formally establish and fund the state’s existing prison nursery program at the Indiana Women’s Prison—one of only a handful nationwide that allow eligible incarcerated mothers to remain with their infants after birth. Though the “Wee Ones Nursery” has operated since 2008, it has never been codified or consistently funded. SB 444 would fix that by setting clear standards and securing support for a program that reduces trauma and promotes maternal bonding.

At first glance, these two provisions—menstrual equity and prison nurseries—may seem unrelated. But together, they reflect a broader truth: reproductive dignity is not a privilege. It is a baseline. SB 444 affirms that all people in custody, regardless of their charge or sentence, deserve to manage their own bodies safely and humanely.

Indiana’s Department of Correction already requires that menstrual products be provided in state prisons. But there’s no similar mandate for county jails, where policies vary dramatically. As a result, too many incarcerated people—most of them women—are left without adequate access, relying on the discretion of staff or inconsistent local practices.

And many of those incarcerated in jails haven’t been convicted of anything. A majority are awaiting trial, held behind bars because they cannot afford bail. Others are serving short sentences for offenses rooted in poverty, addiction, or mental health conditions. SB 444 doesn’t ask whether people are guilty or innocent. It simply affirms that no one should be denied basic healthcare and dignity based on geography or circumstance.

Some may ask whether Indiana can afford these reforms. But states like New York report spending as little as $50 per person annually on menstrual products. The nursery program, too, is modest in cost—especially compared to the long-term financial and human costs of foster care, recidivism, and generational trauma. These aren’t luxuries. They are cost-effective, evidence-based investments in health and stability.

SB 444 aligns Indiana with a growing national movement to meet the needs of incarcerated women. States like California, Minnesota, and Washington have already passed similar legislation. Indiana should not be the last to act.

This bill is not about comfort or privilege. It’s about recognizing that incarceration does not—and must not—strip people of their humanity. It’s about the kind of state we want to be.

Danielle’s story is powerful not because it is rare, but because it is common. SB 444 offers Indiana the chance to listen—and to lead.

This is not radical. It’s reasonable. It’s humane. And it’s time.