I can’t remember how old I was when I got it,
But I remember being in the third or fourth grade.
I remember being really upset.
I remember crying.
I was scared that someone would force me to don a headscarf.
womanhood, period

I was 12 years old when I got my first period.
I cried because I knew that meant I was a grown-up now.
My mother and my father’s relatives ululated and cheered.
My father was happy.
I still don’t understand the reason behind the immense happiness families feel when their daughter gets her period.
Does it mean there’s nothing wrong with me?
I don’t get it.

A couple of months later,
There was a copy of the Quran in the living room,
And my father asked to move it.
My grandfather was there too.
“I can’t,” I replied.
“Maybe it’s that time of the month,” my father said.
I went to my room and cried,
Because now everyone knew.
I don’t know why I used to be embarrassed about it.
I don’t know what made me feel embarrassed.

But I’m not embarrassed by it at all now.
If anyone asks me what’s wrong with me when I looked tired,
I tell them I’m on my period.
It doesn’t matter who it is that’s asking me.
I’m not afraid or embarrassed saying it, like I used to be.
And I don’t have a problem eating in front of other people when I’m not fasting.

I was 12 when it came.
In Palestine, we say ajetny [it has come] when we get our periods.
It happened when I got home after school.
There was a lot of blood.
I got really scared.
I cried a lot.
I couldn’t understand why I was bleeding.
womanhood, period, body image

I remember the exact day.
It was on a Friday in February.
My mother had told us, ever since we were 10 years old,
That we’d start wearing the hijab as soon as we got it,
Because it’s a religious obligation.
I’d hoped I’d never get it.

I was old when I got my period for the first time.
I was the last one to get it at school.
I was 15 years old.
womanhood, period, body image, gender identity

The first time I got my period I knew what it was,
But I also knew and prepared myself that I must hide it and not tell anyone.
womanhood, period

I always wonder why you can’t get a sick leave for having your period.
It really hurts, ruins the day, and you can barely concentrate on what you're doing.
womanhood, period

I was disgusted at the blood coming out of me.
I saw it the way they did: dirty blood.
Blood that forbade me from praying.
Blood that meant a woman couldn’t sleep with a man—or so say they say.
Blood that I tried to hide.
womahood, period, body image

My period affects my life to a large degree.
Not just during it,
But also the week leading up to it,
When I’m unable to move.
My body feels weak,
And my legs feel as if they’re being pulled away from my body.
There’s usually a general feeling of exhaustion,
Which continues until my period ends.

When I was in primary school,
Mama and my teacher talked about periods.
I understood everything about them.
I finished primary school,
And still didn’t get my period.
Mama didn’t stay quiet about it.
She told all my aunts,
That I was going to middle school,
And still didn’t get my period.
This made family gatherings a nightmare for me.
All my aunts would keep asking me,
“You still didn’t get it?”