Imagine starving, and the only food offered to you is something you’re allergic to.
Imagine being offered a job three hours away that forces you to leave your young children alone.
Imagine the opportunity of a lifetime—one you can only take if you abandon your community.
This is what too much foreign giving looks like: generosity that feels good to the giver but harms the receiver.
Nowhere is that clearer than in how foreign donors, especially from the West, approach menstrual equity in Ghana.
Across U.S. churches, suburban craft circles, and volunteers’ sewing rooms, you’ll see lovingly sewn pads being shipped to “girls in Africa.”
The images make people feel good. But most of those pads were never requested. Many are culturally inappropriate or impractical. For example, sending tampons to countries where their use remains culturally taboo does not promote empowerment; Reusable underwear, for instance, may seem sustainable from an American perspective, but may be unsafe in communities without reliable access to clean running water.
Without proper means to sterilise reusable products, users risk infections.
These acts are heartwarming, but they miss the mark.
And while barrels of well-intended donations head across the Atlantic, millions of women and girls in the United States, the UK, and Canada live with their own period poverty.
One in three U.S. girls has missed school because she lacks period products.
Nearly 20% of U.S. teens report struggling to afford essentials, a number that rose to 23% during the pandemic.
In the UK, 64% of girls aged 14 to 21 say they’ve missed school because of their period.
Meanwhile, in Ghana, structural obstacles make menstrual hygiene products difficult to access and expensive.
Imported sanitary pads face a 20% import duty plus 12.5% VAT (value-added tax), among other levies — meaning nearly 32.5% in taxes on these essential items.
These costs drive up the retail price: a typical pack of pads can cost between GH₵20 and GH₵40, depending on the brand and region.
In contrast, a few years ago, similar products sold for GH₵5–7, showing how high the tax burden has become.
Although the government recently made some progress by helping local manufacturers through tax cuts on their products and raw materials, the tax on imported pads still keeps prices high.
Imported sanitary products, which still dominate much of the market, remain taxed as “luxury” items.
These policy choices have real consequences:
High costs force many girls to skip school.
Some resort to using cloth, rags, or substandard materials, increasing their risk of infection.
These prices are often out of reach for those living on low or unpredictable incomes.
Now, consider how foreign “help” often works. Well-meaning organisations send bulk pad donations.
But the costs of import clearance, storage, transportation, and distribution are borne by local partners.
Worse, these donations can undercut local producers—women-led businesses making culturally appropriate products.
This isn’t just charity; it’s a power imbalance: one that says, “We know what you need—even when we don’t.”
If foreign donors really want to make a difference in Ghana, they need to stop shipping products as photo opportunities.
Instead, they should be investing in local innovation. Women-led social enterprises that understand Ghana’s daily realities.
These changemakers are producing affordable pads, training girls, and building real economic opportunity.
True partnership means funding local leaders.
It means supporting the advocacy campaigns pushing for tax reform—like the calls in Parliament to remove the 20% import duty and 12.5% VAT on menstrual products.
It means helping build a menstrual equity ecosystem rooted in dignity, not in dependency.
Real impact isn’t captured in social-media posts or photo ops.
It’s felt when no girl has to choose between her education and her dignity.
When period products are affordable enough that the tax system doesn’t punish menstruation, that’s not aid—it’s justice.
Janice Johnson Dias is an Associate Professor of Sociology and Graduate Faculty of Criminal Justice at City University of New York/John Jay College of Criminal Justice. She is also the President of GrassROOTS Community Foundation.
GrassROOTS Community Foundation is a public health and social justice organisation that works in Jamaica, Ghana, South Africa, Kenya, and the United States.
Their main areas of work include menstrual equity, mental health, girls’ leadership development, and literacy.
By JANICE JOHNSON DIAS, PhD
The writer is the President of GrassROOTS Community Foundation
