For the past three years, I’ve been throwing an annual event with Girls Act Good called Share the DigniTEA, and I can confidently say—it’s part tea party, part feminist revolution, and 100% from the heart.

So far, we've raised $1814 for Share the Dignity, an organisation fighting to end period poverty in Australia. And we’ve done it not with glitzy galas or corporate luncheons, but in a backyard, with a raffle, a plate of someone’s aunt’s sponge cake (life-changing), and a jellybean jar guessing game that gets uncomfortably competitive.

The Ritual of a Radical Afternoon

Each year, I invite my Girls Act Good community, friends, family, and honorary feminists (yes, even six-year-old boys) for an afternoon of tea, storytelling, and meaningful mischief. We eat. We cry (sometimes from laughter, sometimes from stories). And we talk—about bodies, about dignity, and about the power of being seen.

Everyone brings a plate of food, raffle prizes are donated by my inner circle (shoutout to Jess McClusky, Anna Widdrington, and my mum—real MVPs), and this year we added a new game called Toss the Tea, which was such a hit we’re considering a spin-off Olympic category.

There was also an incredible flower garland and the fluffiest sponge cake I’ve ever tasted (thank you, Aunty Lauren), and while we were sipping tea and sharing stories, Tully, our 6-year-old MC-in-residence, sat calmly drawing pictures, quietly taking it all in. When I asked him what he thought the day was about, he replied, “To help women get period products.”

I mean. Get this boy a gold star and a feminist badge. He gets it.

Periods, Pride & Perimenopause

Between games and cake, we talked about what Share the Dignity has achieved, including results from last year’s Bloody Big Survey:

64% of people have struggled to afford period products.
68% have missed sport due to periods (mostly out of fear of leaking).
And 65% weren’t properly educated about menstruation before it began.

I shared some of my own memories too—like the time a male (non-romantic) friend actually gagged when I mentioned being on my period over lunch. I had said I couldn’t be intimate with my partner the night before because I had my period. You’d think I’d admitted to committing a felony, the way he reacted.

And you know what? He wasn’t trying to be rude. He was just… uneducated. And that’s part of the problem.

Even now, as I tumble (gracefully?) into perimenopause, I’m still learning new things about my body. Just when I thought I had it all figured out—surprise! Another transformation. Thanks, uterus.

And let me be honest: I’ve known period poverty personally.

In my 20s, I couldn’t always afford period products. In my 30s, I would actually use the pill to skip my period—not for convenience or travel—but because I couldn’t afford the $30 it would cost to have a menstrual cycle that month. And only now, looking back, do I realise how deeply unfair that is. Women shouldn’t have to choose between menstruating and buying petrol. Between buying tampons or buying food. Period products aren't a luxury. They’re a necessity.

And let’s face it: if men got periods, I’m pretty sure pads would be stocked next to the beer and available in bulk at every pub. For free.

What Menstrual Equity Really Means

That’s why education and access are everything. Menstrual equity isn’t just about having free tampons in public toilets. It’s about having the freedom to participate fully in life, no matter what’s going on in your pants.

This year, we focused on Council Cares, an initiative by Share the Dignity that encourages local councils to commit to menstrual equity in their own communities. They’ve even created easy-to-use templates you can send to your council. It’s grassroots activism with the click of a button.

And here’s the real talk: period poverty isn’t some distant issue happening in far-off places to “other” people. I’ve felt it. My mum used to send me back to University with extra pads in my backpack because she knew.

Cup of Tea, Cup of Truth

Hosting this event has become a sacred annual rhythm. Not just because we raise money, but because we raise each other—through laughter, community, shared stories, and the kind of unfiltered conversations women have when the kettle’s hot and someone’s finally saying the quiet part out loud.

We are building a future where menstruation is not taboo, not shameful, and definitely not a punchline.