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.
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.
That day,
I felt happy,
Because my mother had taken me for a walk around the house,
After my science exam.
I quickly went to the bathroom,
And found blood in my underwear.
I didn’t care.
I put a few tissues,
And decided not to tell anyone.
I don’t really remember the details of the first day,
But I remember being afraid.
Afraid of growing up,
Of having to wear the hijab.
Of not being young anymore,
And the changes my body will go through.
I was the only girl in an office full of men.
Sometimes, I’d have to work for twelve hours straight.
I’d get so exhausted when I got my period that I’d sometimes faint.
It’s not reasonable for me to get exhausted every month,
So I devised a story about how there’s something wrong with my kidneys.