No One Ever Told Me, I Would Bleed from My Vagina.

One day, when I was 10-years-old, I sat on the toilet seat, removed my underwear to discover it was covered in blood. In that instant, I knew I was dying.

I had seen my fair share of movies and science fiction TV shows (i.e., The Twilight Zone), to know that blood coming out of a human body (with no discernible physical injury) was a sign of impeding death. I knew, for a fact that I had contacted dysentery[1] or some undiscovered fatal disease. At that point, I made peace with my maker (actual peace, I have not felt so close to God since). I was simultaneously, petrified and completely calm.

Once I had relieved myself, I put back on my underwear (It’s not like I had anything else with me), and washed my hands and went in search of my mother.

There are many times in a child’s life when they know they must tell their parents the truth. Not because it is the right thing to do, but because you know what you have done is so reprehensible that you cannot fix it yourself. Like as a child, you hit your brother over the head so hard that you knocked him out. You know at that moment you needed to tell your parents even though you knew the punishment would be equally as unbearable as letting your brother die. This is how I felt approached my mother in the kitchen. I was certain she was going to yell at me for not taking better care of myself. However, I was also certain, that if I was dying, my mother needed to know. Who else was going to make the funeral arrangements?

As I walked into the kitchen, she looked up from what she was doing and seeing the guilty look on my face, asked, “Waiteii?”[2] My answer was, “I think I am dying. I went into the bathroom and blood came out”. I must stop here and note that in most stories I have heard or read about a girl getting her first period, there is always the moment a parent finds out and the parent is happy to know that their child is developing normally. My mother was no different and she was ecstatic to hear that I had become a woman. She was positively beaming. The only other time I have seen her that happy, was when I told her I was no longer pursuing a Bachelor of Arts in English Literature.

My mother’s joy did not assuage my fears and to be honest, the fact that my own mother was overjoyed at the prospect of my demise was sure sign that she preferred my younger brother. I was not impressed. I therefore, repeated what I had said, emphasizing every syllable to make sure I did not give the wrong impression. Again, she smiled and this time said, “You are now a woman”. She said that it was perfectly normal and that I did not have a disease and was most definitely not going to die. She proceeded to explain that this would happen to me every month and that I would have to use cotton wool to stop it from ruining my clothes (this did not work out too well).

My mother also told me this is not something that was discussed with men or even other women. It was a secret I had to keep from everyone I knew. I never asked why but it was a secret that weighed heavy on me. I wanted to know more, but back then, we had no internet in our home and I did not even know what to search for in the library. It was not until the following year that women from the Johnson & Johnson company came to our school to talk about the menstrual cycle that I got answers to my questions. Although having a period was still taboo, it was the first time I saw women talking freely about their periods and how they dealt with them every month. I remember there being a suggestions portion to their presentation and all I could think was, “Start telling girls about this sooner.”

Shamiso, 30

Zimbabwe

[1] Disease most common in warmer climates which results in diarrhea with blood.

[2] What did you do?