Rochelle Courtenay is all smiles as our interview begins. The ‘Pad Lady’ – as she’s affectionately known – practically glows as she gets ready to talk about Share the Dignity and her role in founding it and growing it to soaring heights.

But first, we talk family.

“It’s my daughter’s birthday week,” Courtenay says, recounting a morning juggle that many working parents will recognize.

Walking into work late, she told her colleagues, “All of you people with children that you are taking care of every morning before getting here deserve a goddamn medal.”

It’s the perfect introduction to how she leads: direct, human and allergic to performative polish.

Ending the cycle

Not long, and the conversation turns to Share the Dignity. While an Australian powerhouse today, the organization happened quite serendipitously. Courtenay, a personal trainer, wasn’t looking for a new gig. But an article shared by a friend stayed with her.

She was reading about women experiencing homelessness when she reached a line explaining how many manage their periods – using socks, toilet paper and even newspaper.

That detail was confronting. Periods are painful enough, she thought – and she knew that firsthand after years of severe endometriosis – but like many, she had always assumed the basics like hot showers, clean clothes, period products and dignity were available to everyone.

In that moment, Courtenay realized how much even she had taken for granted.

“I grew up in a housing commission,” she opens up, explaining that her parents were juggling multiple jobs to support the family. But she always had what she needed.

She knew then she had to do something to raise awareness and encourage people to take action. The question wasn’t how to get people to help, but how to make it easy for them to do so.

“I knew there wasn’t a woman in Australia who wouldn’t give a pad or a tampon to another woman in the bathroom, so how could I make an easy way to donate?” she says.

Going with the flow

At the time, when Courtenay was running her own personal training business, her first ‘campaign’ was as grassroots as it gets. She asked her clients to bring in packs of pads or tampons for every glass of wine they had that month.

“Some of them would just bring me a bag and say, ‘Let’s not count the bag,’” she remembers with a laugh. “But one of them worked at a massive police department, and she put a box on a desk and told everyone to bring some pads and tampons in.

“It was really about the power of people knowing the problem existed.”

What followed was an early lesson in scale. After distributing products to local charities, a friend in a hospital service asked for more. Courtenay posted about it on a small Facebook page her daughter had created to share donation stories. Within days, the audience exploded.

“The page went from 250 people to about 25,000 people,” she recalls, still in awe. “And no kidding, there would have been 300 messages every day. People were saying, ‘I want to help.’”

Courtenay began squeezing phone calls in between training sessions, trying to keep up. But what began as a community effort quickly demanded proper structure, permits, governance – the parts of social impact that aren’t visible in a donation drive.

Fortunately, a law firm stepped in with pro bono support, friends and supporters formed an early board and systems gradually replaced improvisation. Today, Share the Dignity works with around 4,000 charities nationwide and is supported by thousands of volunteers. The organization also employs 33 full time staff, which bring accountability and consistency, ensuring programs run reliably and at scale.

Stronger together

Courtenay describes Share the Dignity as a business with a social mission.

“We are a business,” she says. “We’re in the business of making a difference. If it wasn’t set up like a business, we wouldn’t have the success we have now.”

And she’s clear about her own role within that structure.

“I’d rather pull out my toenails than look at a spreadsheet,” she admits, saying her strengths lie in building relationships and persuading people and organizations to get involved.

Leadership, she says, was shaped long before charity work through decades of playing netball.

“I can be the best goal defense that there can be; but bloody hell, I’m no good if I don’t have a great shooter or a center.”

Like any great athlete, she knows success depends on teamwork.

“My team doesn’t work for me. I’m on their team,” Courtenay says.

That culture and the organization’s purpose attract talented staff who, she admits, could earn more elsewhere. But they are there because they believe in the mission. As Courtenay puts it, the purpose is never in question.

And while Share the Dignity has achieved success after success, she’s not shy about admitting some missteps along the way. For one, at the start, she only saw menstruation as a women’s issue, rather than improving education among all genders. Now, initiatives such as ‘Bro in the Know’ actively involve men.

“It has been phenomenal,” Courtenay enthuses. “We’ve had some really amazing men come on board and say, ‘Look, I’m sorry, but I didn’t know this problem existed.’”

A future built on dignity

Courtenay is also keen to dispel a persistent myth that period poverty is confined solely to the homeless. Share the Dignity’s national research shows that one-in-five women have been through period poverty, including women with jobs, quietly stretching products longer than is safe or going entirely without when money runs out.

For workplaces, she says, the solution can be simple.

“Go to the supermarket, buy a pack of period products and put them in your bathroom,” she says.

Providing products signals to women that they are seen and supported, while workplace donation drives can also open conversations that help remove the embarrassment and stigma. The Education Hub on Share the Dignity’s website has information on how businesses can be more proactive, starting with the simple step of providing period products in the workplace.

Looking ahead, Courtenay’s goal is menstrual equity by 2030. In practical terms, that means period products are available wherever women and girls study, work or play – schools, universities, sports facilities, hospitals, libraries and public venues – alongside better education so menstruation is understood rather than hidden.

Progress, she insists, must be measured. Share the Dignity’s ‘Bloody Big Survey’ returns in 2027, and she wants the data moving in the right direction. She points to a statistic she refuses to accept: 73 percent of girls at university cannot afford period products.

“We have spoken to women who have dropped out of university because they’re choosing between their dignity or going to uni,” she says, explaining that the ripple effect hits the whole economy.

While her journey so far has demanded enormous energy, with the early years of the business leaving her running on four hours of sleep, and burnout her closest companion, now Courtenay knows to prioritize health and balance. She also encourages her own staff to rest, so they can sustain the good work they’re doing.

“It’s a big, bold goal,” she says of her aim to eliminate period poverty and give every person who needs it access to period products.

“But I absolutely believe that we’ll get there, or I’ll freaking die trying.”