There’s a ton of thinking out loud to go with this. Bear with me.

I didn’t buy from a trans-friendly, LGBTQ+ operated company when I went looking for period underwear. Instead, I went on Amazon and ended up buying leakproof boxer-briefs designed for cis men with urinary incontinence, in a style that had the leg and butt coverage you need when you’re on your period.

It’s reductive, I guess, to say that period underwear is just overpriced incontinence underwear. A fairer assessment is that they’re constructed with identical functions in mind: Absorb and trap liquids, and ideally do so with wicking and odor control. Specifics around coverage and the marketing are going to be the biggest difference. The marketing difference is not nothing, though.

For one, I suspect most people aren’t thinking of these items as interchangeable (I certainly didn’t when I first went looking, what tipped me off was a review on period underwear mentioning it was good for incontinence), and they aren’t always interchangeable because the placement of the absorbent material differs between styles, and people who aren’t living with urinary issues might hesitate to buy something marketed to address a problem they don’t have.

And, like, okay, no, menstruation is not exactly a problem to be solved. But, if something is marketed for menstrual care, you do get some degree of reassurance that the product is designed to be effective for it.

And while cost was a factor, it wasn’t the primary reason I opted not to make what would have been the more ethically consistent purchase. My needs around my dysphoria were.

I can’t wear underwear that’s not designed for cis men. And when I say I can’t, what I really mean is I won’t, because I can’t cope. It feels claustrophobic and makes me way too aware of what I do or don’t have. And at the end of the day, I don’t really want to buy underwear from a brand that implies I am a woman, or that isn’t discreet about what I’m purchasing. That’s not how inclusive branding works.

This isn’t some victorious “I’m too smart for marketing” kind of post. Sometimes spending consciously means intentionally purchasing the more expensive option. Zapatista-grown coffee costs more than Folgers, but unlike Folgers it helps financially support the efforts of an autonomous Indigenous movement. Pastured eggs are more expensive than caged eggs, or most eggs you’ll find in the grocery store that are allowed to claim the “free range” label, but I live right around the corner from the ranch where those eggs are laid and I can confirm that the chickens have literal acres of room to hang out—and I’m putting money into local, family-run, regenerative agricultural projects. The food I sell at my day job is not cheap, for a reason.

So, too, with companies specifically created by, and for, LGBTQ+ people, with fair wages and responsible material sourcing, and operating under body-positive, trans-friendly, and feminist ethics. Whenever you can prioritize that, I genuinely believe that you should.

But sometimes you just can’t swing a full US$26 for one pair of underwear from a company whose name implies you’re a GNC woman, and your pelvic floor is too angry for a menstrual cup, and briefs that would let you wear pads aren’t gonna cut it (but they do cut into your bearish thunder thighs, because you just have to have a whole lot of rotten luck down there, apparently), and you feel bad enough that you’re just going to take the cheaper and more dysphoria friendly option.

And that’s fine.

Anyway—I went with these, which work out to around $19 per pair. This is not an affiliate link.