I don’t remember how old I was when I got it.
But I remember that I knew what it was,
From mama and my older cousin.
“You’ll find blood in your underwear one day.
Don’t worry or get startled.
It’s something that happens to all girls.
It lets them know that they’re grown up.
When it happens to you,
Come tell me.”
I always thought I was special.
Or at least that is how my parents made me feel.
I used to watch the older girls from a distance.
I watched them go through through their monthly agony: their period.
I got my period when I was in 9th grade.
I felt that something strange and confusing was happening to my body;
Something I couldn’t control.
I was sitting in the living room that had a bifold door,
So it was never fully closed.
I tried to gesture to my mother to come help me,
But she was busy.
I was 13 years old the first I got it.
I got cramps,
So I went to the bathroom.
I was scared by the blood and called my mother.
She opened the door and saw me.
“Do you know what that is?” she asked me.
“Yes,” I replied.
She closed the door and sent someone to buy me pads.
I first found out about periods when I was around 11 years old.
We were in Saudi Arabia when I started noticing mama’s Always pads.
I didn’t understand what they were,
Or what they were used for.
All I knew was that they were mama’s,
And that she used them,
But I didn’t understand why.
Then she told me,
But I didn’t understand.
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
I think I was in the seventh grade when I got my period for the first time.
I didn’t know what it was.
I thought I had injured myself.
But I didn’t feel any pain.
I quickly washed my clothes,
But the blood kept increasing alarmingly.