I'm 28 And Finally Free To Talk About My Periods With Pride
The first time I bled, I woke up with red all over my bed.
It was 5 am and I was 12.
I walked up to the bathroom in horror and shame; after all, I had blood dripping all over my legs.
I took a look at my underwear, my pretty pink was now an insolent red.
The blood-stained panties looked at my face unapologetically
While I deliberated where to throw them away.
No one had told me that periods were normal,
And for months to come, I stole sanitary pads from my mother
And threw them away when no one was looking.
For months, I pretended not to have periods.
Imagine a 12-year-old hiding a secret so big.
As if I had committed a crime so big by having something as normal as periods every month!
You see in my house, no one ever spoke about periods, the sanitary pads came wrapped up in newspapers,
And were kept hidden in the corners of the cupboard under piles of clothes.
There was an implicit sense of humiliation and horror associated with it.
I am 28 now,
I now buy my sanitary pads bare.
I carry the napkin in my hands when I walk to the office washroom.
Now I talk about my periods openly, freely whenever I want like here on my Instagram.
I just wish sometimes, it hadn't taken me so long!
If you're a woman, you know what the author means. Each one of us has been through this. Share this poem far and wide because these are the kind of conversations we should be free to have for life.