My dearest dearest baby,
I can't believe you are 9 already. I love your curiosity and I want to encourage all kinds of questions from you. And I've decided to answer last night's question with a letter. Yes, I do have a "little red story" just like every woman around me. The story of my first period. But it's nothing big. Nothing dramatic. Nothing traumatic.
I was 10 on that Saturday when I felt my first cramps. The cramps were followed by a dampness. The dampness that I'd already been warned about. I had a pack of sanitary pads from the presentations we'd had at school. I had also had 'the talk' with my mom. I knew what to expect. I knew what to do. Which is how I am hoping you'd be too on the day it finally happens to you.
My mom walked into the house in the evening after a long day at work. I waited until she'd had her tea and then broke the news to her. "Amma, I got my first period today". She panicked for a bit, I think..but soon relaxed when she realized she'd prepped me well.
Let me just say that I was a little upset that day. The response to my big announcement was a tad bit underwhelming. Mom told dad. Dad hugged me. Mom bought me my very own first pack of "whisper with wings". End of story.
But let me tell you why I was a bit upset. Just the year before, our gardener's daughter had her first period. It was a celebration! A grand one. A goat was slaughtered and served as mutton biryani at a huge gathering. Cinema songs blared from the rented loud speakers. She was dressed in a saree and jewelry and made to sit on a throne, while everyone showered her with gifts and blessings. It was quite the deal! But it wasn't the party that caught my attention. The gardener had also been busy building a little room away from their one room house for her to "stay away" during her periods every month. A thatch roof, mud walled enclosure that she'd have to spend her period days in. I ignored the obvious lack of luxury in that set up and saw only what I wanted to see. A cute little hideaway. And I designed my own little room in my head. A fancy one. One with a comfy bed, a doll house, a bookshelf. I also picked out the perfect little corner in our big yard for such a room. In the corner farthest away from home, right under the huge cherry blossom tree. My little dream room.
A few days after my first period, I finally decided to confront my parents about this obvious lack of interest they'd shown in something so huge. "Are we going to have a party?" I asked at dinner. They both looked a little puzzled. My birthday wasn't anywhere in the near future. And we didn't do parties for birthdays anyway. "To celebrate my periods!" I fumed and they both burst out laughing. It was a shattering revelation that not only would I not have a huge party to celebrate the big news, but I wouldn't be getting my own little room outside the house either. My eyes filled with tears.
My mom just shook her head, got up and walked in to the kitchen to clean up after dinner. She wasn't one for drama. It was my dad that sat me down and explained the cultural stigma around periods. How his educated sisters had to fight to be able to go to school/college during their periods or just be included in regular household activities. And how he'd decided then that if he ever had a daughter, he would never impose religious or cultural restrictions on her during her periods.
Baby, I'm telling you this because I want you to know how lucky you are. I hope you continue to be excited and eager about all the changes that are slowly coming up on you. I hope you treasure this age and transition. I hope your only worries would be the possibility of having a leak and staining your clothes, or those pesky cramps. But, at the same time, I want you to know that there are little girls around the world that still can't go to school on the days they have their periods because they can't afford sanitary care. There are girls that aren't allowed to enter kitchens in many households in India. Women are kept away from religious places because they are considered impure on those days. There is still a stigma surrounding periods. I can shelter you from all that. But I can't shelter you forever.
Don't grow up too soon, baby. Love you too much.
I can't believe you are 9 already. I love your curiosity and I want to encourage all kinds of questions from you. And I've decided to answer last night's question with a letter. Yes, I do have a "little red story" just like every woman around me. The story of my first period. But it's nothing big. Nothing dramatic. Nothing traumatic.
I was 10 on that Saturday when I felt my first cramps. The cramps were followed by a dampness. The dampness that I'd already been warned about. I had a pack of sanitary pads from the presentations we'd had at school. I had also had 'the talk' with my mom. I knew what to expect. I knew what to do. Which is how I am hoping you'd be too on the day it finally happens to you.
My mom walked into the house in the evening after a long day at work. I waited until she'd had her tea and then broke the news to her. "Amma, I got my first period today". She panicked for a bit, I think..but soon relaxed when she realized she'd prepped me well.
Let me just say that I was a little upset that day. The response to my big announcement was a tad bit underwhelming. Mom told dad. Dad hugged me. Mom bought me my very own first pack of "whisper with wings". End of story.
But let me tell you why I was a bit upset. Just the year before, our gardener's daughter had her first period. It was a celebration! A grand one. A goat was slaughtered and served as mutton biryani at a huge gathering. Cinema songs blared from the rented loud speakers. She was dressed in a saree and jewelry and made to sit on a throne, while everyone showered her with gifts and blessings. It was quite the deal! But it wasn't the party that caught my attention. The gardener had also been busy building a little room away from their one room house for her to "stay away" during her periods every month. A thatch roof, mud walled enclosure that she'd have to spend her period days in. I ignored the obvious lack of luxury in that set up and saw only what I wanted to see. A cute little hideaway. And I designed my own little room in my head. A fancy one. One with a comfy bed, a doll house, a bookshelf. I also picked out the perfect little corner in our big yard for such a room. In the corner farthest away from home, right under the huge cherry blossom tree. My little dream room.
A few days after my first period, I finally decided to confront my parents about this obvious lack of interest they'd shown in something so huge. "Are we going to have a party?" I asked at dinner. They both looked a little puzzled. My birthday wasn't anywhere in the near future. And we didn't do parties for birthdays anyway. "To celebrate my periods!" I fumed and they both burst out laughing. It was a shattering revelation that not only would I not have a huge party to celebrate the big news, but I wouldn't be getting my own little room outside the house either. My eyes filled with tears.
My mom just shook her head, got up and walked in to the kitchen to clean up after dinner. She wasn't one for drama. It was my dad that sat me down and explained the cultural stigma around periods. How his educated sisters had to fight to be able to go to school/college during their periods or just be included in regular household activities. And how he'd decided then that if he ever had a daughter, he would never impose religious or cultural restrictions on her during her periods.
Baby, I'm telling you this because I want you to know how lucky you are. I hope you continue to be excited and eager about all the changes that are slowly coming up on you. I hope you treasure this age and transition. I hope your only worries would be the possibility of having a leak and staining your clothes, or those pesky cramps. But, at the same time, I want you to know that there are little girls around the world that still can't go to school on the days they have their periods because they can't afford sanitary care. There are girls that aren't allowed to enter kitchens in many households in India. Women are kept away from religious places because they are considered impure on those days. There is still a stigma surrounding periods. I can shelter you from all that. But I can't shelter you forever.
Don't grow up too soon, baby. Love you too much.