My period affects my life to a large degree.
Not just during it,
But also the week leading up to it,
When I’m unable to move.
My body feels weak,
And my legs feel as if they’re being pulled away from my body.
There’s usually a general feeling of exhaustion,
Which continues until my period ends.
I was 12 years old when I got my first period.
I cried because I knew that meant I was a grown-up now.
My mother and my father’s relatives ululated and cheered.
My father was happy.
I still don’t understand the reason behind the immense happiness families feel when their daughter gets her period.
Does it mean there’s nothing wrong with me?
I don’t get it.
A couple of months later,
There was a copy of the Quran in the living room,
And my father asked to move it.
My grandfather was there too.
“I can’t,” I replied.
“Maybe it’s that time of the month,” my father said.
I went to my room and cried,
Because now everyone knew.
I don’t know why I used to be embarrassed about it.
I don’t know what made me feel embarrassed.
But I’m not embarrassed by it at all now.
If anyone asks me what’s wrong with me when I looked tired,
I tell them I’m on my period.
It doesn’t matter who it is that’s asking me.
I’m not afraid or embarrassed saying it, like I used to be.
And I don’t have a problem eating in front of other people when I’m not fasting.
My sister, who is 3 years younger than me,
Got her period 6 months before I did.
She was 11 years old then,
And I was 14.
My experience with periods was pretty normal.
They told us about them in school.
I got my first period when I was in the 7th grade.
I was surprised and sad.
Then began the journey of pain, vomiting, diarrhea, and anxiety.
It’s painful every time.
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.
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.