I was locked in a room for seven days because I was on my period

Sumina Kumal was 12 years old when she had her first period at a relative's home. 

At the insistence of her mother, Sumina isolated in a room for days because she feared what the neighbors would think if she let her daughter have free reign.

And, for three days, she sat there.

'I was not allowed to go out and see the sun, and it was the wintertime. I just couldn't bear it so I went against my mother and went outside to see the sunlight.'

Now Sumina has learned to cope by viewing the isolation as 'three days of rest' and 'dissociates' the idea that her parents insist on following such a custom.

But this is not an isolated incident. 

Sumina Kumal was just 12 years old when she was first isolated in a room for days during her period

These menstrual huts are typically made of mud or wood and located miles away from the main house

It is instead a Nepali cultural practice known as Chhaupadi - a menstrual taboo that prohibits women and girls from participating in normal daily activities during their menstrual cycle.

I traveled to Nepal and was shocked by the reality these women and girls have to face.

Getting your period means you can potentially create new life and is viewed as your emergence into womanhood. But having your period in Nepal has long been associated with being morally corrupt and wicked.

Rikita Pokhrel, 19, said she was isolated for seven days in the corner of a room during her first period. 

She had to sleep on the floor with a different set of bed sheets and had to follow strict rules outside of being confined.

Rikita told FEMAIL: 'For the first three days, we are not supposed to go in the kitchen, cook meals for our family or touch the meals that are prepared. We are also not allowed to go to the temple.'

Menstruating women and girls are seen as the manifestation of bodily impurity. It is also widely believed that contact with a menstruating woman can contaminate food, people and religious icons.

The reign of a Kumari, who is hand chosen around the ages of three to four, is symbolic of this practice. 

Rikita Pokhrel said she wants to dismantle period taboos and wants to study psychology - she would also like to advocate against strict curfews and gender discrimination

I went to one of the Kumaris' palaces twice - both times I was stunned by the reverence she was given and the controlled look on such a childlike face

Kumaris are selected after a series of tests — one is passing 32 physical perfections such as having 'a chest of a lion' — before she is sent to the various palaces, known as Kumari Ghar, to become the living incarnation of the Hindu goddess Taleju.

When I was in Kathmandu, I saw the Kumari twice. She was a young girl with a painted face, adorned with jewelry and fine clothing. 

She stood on the balcony with a straight face as we bowed to her and said 'namaste.' Then after 20 seconds, she ducked inside and we were escorted out of the palace with the door chained behind us.

Every physical action that the Kumari takes is interpreted as an omen. If she smiles at you, it means you'll die soon. If her feet touch the ground outside of the temple, it means an earthquake is coming. 

That power is literal and they treat her with the utmost reverence — providing the living goddess with a life of luxury.

Until her first period.

Once she bleeds, it's believed that the goddess leaves her body and she is cast out of the temple with the expectation that she'll live out the rest of her life as a nun. The Kumari's family receives a compensation equivalent of $80,000 to $90,000.

Rama Rama, a Nepali guide at Kathmandu Basantapur Durbar Square where one out of the nine Nepali Kumari's resides, said: 'She's a spiritual guru, a spiritual tutor. They remove the obstacles of life but only before her period. After her period she loses her Goddess powers.' 

I met Rikita, Rejina and Sumina at a panel for the Girls Empowerment Program in Nawalpur, Nepal

Tourists have the opportunity to see the Kumari at the Kathmandu Basantapur Durbar Square - but after she appears, we were ushered out of the palace's plaza and the doors were locked behind us with a chain

When I pressed him for a reason on why periods are seen as impure, Rama Rama said: 'It's natural. Before periods ladies are innocent. She is representing the Earth and the Earth is a virgin so it's a virgin power. A super-nature power.'

Period taboos are passed down through generations – mainly by grandmothers and mothers who experienced the same rules.

Rikita said: 'It's women who are coming to me and saying this is our tradition. These are our rules. This is the thing that our ancestors gave us. So you have to follow this.'

On a night out in Kathmandu, I met Yozana Thapa, a female comedian who said she often uses the discrimination that women experience in Nepal as material in her sets.

Yozana said that her generation is leading the way in dismantling period stigmas, but it's often hard to change the minds of the older generations.

'It's a tricky thing to try to convince your family. At one point you just give up because they're not gonna change so I'll just wait for them to die.'

Chhaupadi is enforced by the community. At religious sites and temples, if it's exposed to the neighborhood that a female who's attending has their period, then they'll be ostracized and ridiculed.

Rikita said: 'People will talk badly behind your back or will taunt you in between masses. If society finds out they'll ask what is this generation coming to? What are they learning from our ancestors?

'They'll say she's being a leader. She's doing bad things. They will try to stop your growing process, or they will stop everything the girl has done or what she is doing with her life.'

The Girls Empowerment Program is currently building a center in Nawalpur

Girls in Nepal have died in old menstrual huts from snake bites, overheating, hypothermia and animal attacks

Some girls have been successful in dismantling Chhaupadi. Women's advocate Rejina Gharti, 20, said: 'I tried to break this stigma from my own home first, before advocating in the society and community so I could reach out to other people.'

In Rejina's house, she told me she has free reign of the kitchen and isn't forced to isolate. The only barrier of entry is the temple.

During Tihal in Nepal — a five-day Hindu celebration at the end of October — Rejina used her homemade pads to hide from her mother that she was on her period. 

But on the second day, she bled through.

'When I said that I was going to take a bath as I was bleeding over, my mother said, "oh, then you can't put Tikka on your brothers. You can't celebrate the festival."'

Rejina answered with the only loop hole she knew - in Nepal, you can worship in the temple on the seventh day of a woman's menstrual cycle.

Rikita used scientific evidence to debunk period-related stigmas in her family. 

Across the country, it's widely believed that a menstruating woman who touches a plant or vegetable will make them rot, so she decided to conduct an experiment using flowers on the second day of her mother's period.

On my last few days in Nepal, I met Rejina at another organization - she was getting a visa to travel to a conference in Bangkok to pitch business ideas on creating sustainable clothing made out of hay

The majority of girls in Nepal don't stay in menstrual huts and so they are either locked in their rooms or have to stay at a relative's house to avoid seeing their fathers and brothers

Rikita was 16 years old when they went out to their garden to plant the flowers they had purchased at the market. After a few days, Rikita's flowers died while her mothers flowers bloomed.

Rikita showed her grandmother her mother's flowers and got a surprising reaction.

'I don't know what happened that day, but when my grandmother saw the results of the experiment she started being a little bit supportive. She understood what I was trying to say to her.'

Rikita said after that day she gained the freedom to move around her household before the seven-day-restrictions were up.

'I can go anywhere I want to go, I can talk to my parents, and even eat what I want.'

Rikita, Yozana, Rejina and Sumina all said they won't continue this practice with their children.

Rikita said: 'Menstrual taboos are not the only things that we have to change. There are so many things in our society to work on. So I will push for that in future.'