The first time I got my period was during summer vacation.
I hadn’t turned 12 yet.
My mother hadn’t talked to me about menstruation,
But I learned about it from a relative by coincidence.
I thought it was like the common cold:
I would get it for one day,
And it would prevent me from praying fajr prayer at the mosque.
That was it.
We were at an amusement park that day.
We were playing around,
And everyone was happy.
I found brown spots in my underwear when I went to the bathroom.
I didn’t know where they came from.
I was scared,
But I didn’t tell anyone.
I spent the rest of the day thinking I had pooped myself.
Because I didn’t know what it was,
And it didn’t look like blood.
When I went home,
I went to the bathroom,
Took off my clothes and washed them,
So no one would yell at me.
But my mother walked in on me while I was washing my underwear.
She gave me a pad and told me to put it on.
She didn’t even tell me how to use it.
I cried all night because I was scared.
I thought morning would never come.