“Who does this belong to?” she asked.
“It’s mine,” I replied, rather naively.
She laughed.
“Congratulations. You’re a woman now.
I have to go tell your father the good news!”
womanhood, period, body image
My parents have always been aware and informed, thank God.
One time, when I was younger, mama asked me to hand her some pads.
She wanted me to ask her what they were for.
“This is something all girls will need to use someday.
It’s a sign that they’re getting older and lovelier,” she replied simply.
womanhood, period, parents
When I was a kid,
Mommy would always tell me that God would only start judging me for my actions when I got my first period.
Before that,
My slate was clean,
Because in front of God,
I was still a baby: clean and innocent.
But when I got my first period,
That was it.
We’d be the same.
I’d be a woman.
Grown up and aware,
And accountable for all my actions,
Just like her.
My family was relatively understanding.
When I was young,
Baba used to always tell people,
“She’s a woman now.”
It made me happy that he saw me that way,
Even though I was still young.
That line used to boost my confidence,
And I knew I could handle anything,
Even if I hadn’t hit puberty,
As opposed to our society,
Which associates puberty with maturity.
Because of my curiosity,
I asked mama for one too.
“That’s for big girls only,” she’d say in an upset and serious tone.
My curiosity compelled me to wear the hijab like them,
Just so I could be a grown up woman like them.
But still she ignored me.
I kept secretly watching them,
I was in the 9th grade,
The first time I got my period.
I used to always hear about it from my friends.
Mama treated it as something normal.
She told me about it before I got it.
But I used to be embarrassed by it,
And didn’t want anyone at home to know when I had it,
Especially my brothers.
It made me very tired sometimes,
And they sometimes noticed.