I was having a hard time accepting the changes my body would go through.
I used to see how my mother dealt with her period,
And the blood terrified me.
I was afraid of getting it.
Most of my friends and cousins had gotten it.
I felt sorry for them when they told me the news.

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 love my dawra [cycle].
I call it dawra.
I don’t like using the word “period,”
Because it makes me feel as if I’m ashamed of it.
It’s one of those words we say in another language,
Because we’re too embarrassed of it.
I refer to it as my cycle because I’m not embarrassed by it.

There was a teacher called Soheir or Siham.
One time, she closed the classroom door during religion class,
And, in a very shy tone, bombarded us with a wealth of information in just three minutes.

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

I would always hear stories from my friends,
About how they were surprised the first time they got their periods,
And how it affected them,
And how they accepted their changing bodies.
Thank God for my mother,
May she rest in peace.
When my body started to change,
And show signs of puberty,
My mother explained to me what menstruation was,
What happens exactly during it,
And why it happens.

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.

When I was young,
I used to love finding out about new things before the time was right.
We were at my grandmother’s one time,
When I saw blood on my aunt’s pyjamas.
I was surprised.
I ran to my mother in tears and told her what I saw.

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

Mama explained periods to me when I was young,
Around a year before I got mine.
She used to tell me when she was tired because of period pain.
I got my period really early.
I was in the fourth grade.
womanhood, period