I don’t know if there’s anything I like about my body.
I don’t know if there’s anything I like about bodies in general.
It’s because my thoughts are always fixated on the parts I don’t like or want on my body.
body image, womanhood

I wanted to be a boy when I was young.
My brother and our cousins would be allowed to play in the garden behind our house until late, but not me.
They used to hop the fence, play hooky, then come back and lie about it, make up stories.
As for me, if I even so much as tried to call my cousin at night they’d tell me
“Why? Aren’t you going to see each other tomorrow morning?

I’m a girl,
And I have two brothers.
I’ve always been told that I’m a “reckless” person.
But like I said,
I’m a girl who was brought up around two brothers.
What was I supposed to be like, then?
There was obviously a chance I’d turn out this way.

Walk like a soldier.
Don’t you know how soldiers walk?
Eyes straight.
Back straight.
No swaying.

My experience with periods was pretty normal.
They told us about them in school.
I got my first period when I was in the 7th grade.
I was surprised and sad.
Then began the journey of pain, vomiting, diarrhea, and anxiety.
It’s painful every time.

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 never feel shy asking him about anything.
He never turns me away.
“Let’s search for the answer together,” he’d always tell me.
Baba is amazing when it comes to respecting women.

I was in the 9th grade when I got my period for the first time.
I knew a little bit about it from my cousins and friends,
Who would talk about how they struggled with it,
But I was still very surprised when I saw the blood,
And I ran to tell my mother.

I’m not a woman, right?
I’m no longer a woman, am I?
How can I be a woman,
If I don’t get my period every month?
A little thing was gone,
And with it a lot of blood was lost.
My secrets were gone with it.
Where will I keep my secrets now?

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.