I guess you could say I’ve always been a crier. From a very young age, I’ve been sensitive to how people look at me, speak to me, or criticize me. You’re probably thinking, so what, everyone is, but I’m sensitive to an extent that can make me feel weak and can even hinder my day-to-day activities.
We all knew why the women of the house “sat outside” every month. In the map of their very orthodox household, the women bled rivers and travelled in the confines of their landlocked house.
Every period story I’ve heard involves either great trauma or grave embarrassment. Girls claim they mistakenly believed they were dying when they first spotted the blood or that someone else noticed and pointedit out to them, scarring them permanently from the humiliation. I had heard it all by the time I was 12.