My First Period: Between Pride, and Shame.

What if I hadn’t gotten my period on time? Would they still see me as the woman they claim I am today?

Growing up, even before I understood what menstruation was, I constantly saw my mother and sister worried about whether I’d get it “on time.” I didn’t fully grasp the reason behind their concern, but I knew that getting my period was something they were anxiously waiting for.

Since birth, I have had some health complications. The kind that gave people something to whisper about. My grandmother, someone I thought would protect me, used those complications to talk about me with others. Till today, I don’t know why. I’ve never dared to ask her why she chose to turn my condition into gossip.

At the age of 12, I remember a doctor saying, “She’s fine, she’ll get her periods soon.” I still didn’t know exactly what she meant by "she's fine," yet I hold this question dearly in my heart, but I’d heard enough to understand that it was important.

The girls at my school would talk about their first time and I would just sit silently, looking at each of their faces knowing I haven’t gotten mine yet and I don’t know what it feels like, it made me feel more uneasy knowing that they were also judging me, the judgment leave the longer dark deep scare which cannot be hidden even when covered up, yep, that’s how deep it hurts me…

I remember my sister helped me pack a panty with a pad in my bag just in case I would need it in school if I got my period in the middle of the day, yet she didn’t tell me how I had to use it, I was clueless, yet aware. Whenever I would open my bag pack last zip, I would see the pad lying there just in dust as I would feel my throat clogged, I would look at it and ask myself, “what is this for? How will I use it? What will happen?” there were a lot of questions in my mind…

It was like a taboo to talk about it, I remember while watching the TV together, someone would change the channel whenever an ad for period shows up, it was such a shutting topic yet mine was discussed like I didn’t matter, like I wasn’t a human being deserving respect as others, like my problems should be kept hidden like theirs too, did I asked a lot?

At such a young age, where I had to become most loved, cherished, appreciated, I found myself held back by the deep cuts given by their words against me, there were some courageous people who walked up to me and asked if I got them or not, and when I wouldn't be able to respond they would weirdly look at me and move forward. 

Then came April 1^st, a night I’ll never forget. I felt a discomfort I’d never experienced before. Everyone was asleep, and I couldn’t explain what I was feeling. The night felt endless. But in the morning, as I showered, I noticed blood on my undergarments.

I panicked. I thought I was dying.

I screamed for my sister, who came running. She saw what I held and calmly said, “It’s okay. Just shower and come out, I’ll handle everything.”

That moment changed me.

That was my first period. That was the moment I “became a woman,” or at least that’s what everyone around me believed. I felt a strange sense of pride knowing my body had stepped into something new. My sister explained everything, what it meant, how it worked, and yes… that it would happen every month (which did not make me happy).

But my joy didn’t last long. That same evening, as I sat doing homework with my mother, a relative visited. After a bit of small talk, she bluntly asked my mom, “Has she gotten her period yet?”

That one question didn’t hurt; what did was knowing my grandmother had already talked to her about my “issues.”

Why would she do that?

Why would someone who’s supposed to protect me make me the center of pity and gossip?

I cried that night. And even now, every time I get my period, a part of me wonders if I should go confront her. But I never do. I still carry the hurt, silently.

When I’m alone at night, I always think about why this topic, menstruation, which is so natural, was a hot topic to gossip about for the people around me. Isn’t it natural? The boys of society don’t know anything about periods, what a woman goes through, how painful it is, how uneasy it makes us feel, yet if we don’t go through menstruation for a month, it will complicate things for us…

I counsel myself by saying that maybe since my grandmother is old-fashioned, she didn’t mean harm… But then I remember, I was just a young girl trying to understand my body, and the people around me made me feel like there was something wrong with me. Like my body’s timeline was a burden on my family’s shoulders.

It still breaks my heart knowing that in my teenage years, the time when my only people should have been with me, they were talking behind my back, judging me. It also made me realize that my mother was questioned for years whether I’m an official woman. As if that was the only identity I was meant to achieve…

This made me think sometimes that I’m not strong enough to face situations, since whenever I see her, this part of my heart yearns to know the answer to WHY, yet it holds back, I see her, ask about her health, make small talk but what about the question I have held in my heart for like 9 years?

So, I want to ask you… If you have ever been made to feel shame for something completely natural? How did it affect you? Did you heal? Or are you still holding the weight like I am?