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.
I was, of course, happy that I still hadn’t gotten my period.
I didn’t want to tell her when I first got it,
Because I knew what she was going to say,
And she, of course, did say it:
“You’re all grown up now, my love.
You’re now accountable for your actions,
Just like me.”
These were terrifying words,
And wholly unnecessary,
Because I still felt so young.
I didn’t feel any different,
So I felt terrified at this sudden responsibility.
She made me hate this natural thing,
That happens to all girls.
This thing that needn’t be terrifying.
I was still in middle school,
Still a child,
And God knows that.