Today, I decided that I would share the personal account of a girl’s sexual revolution as a way to celebrate my identity as a woman. I hope that telling my story will bring clarity and closure, and can be of encouragement to girls, women and those who are female at heart.
To begin, I was raised to believe that good girls do not. Sex did not exist in my vocabulary. It was something reserved for adults.
When I had my first period at the tender age of ten, much too early at the time, I was told that from then on I must not go near boys. Avoid sitting with them in class. Or risk going home with a baby!
It was never explained how I would end up with a baby simply by sitting next to a guy, but I started to feel insecure in my own skin. I started to not trust myself. What’s wrong with me, if I can’t even sit next to my classmate who just happens to be a boy.
Sometime within that year, I was given a little booklet that explained my menstrual cycle to me. I clung on to it because it provided what little comfort I needed during those adolescent years. My body blossomed but I saw only flaws, weight gain and obscured identity. There was no one I could talk to.
Then, the one adult I may have confided in died suddenly in childbirth. A few days later, her newborn daughter was taken off life support. From this loss, I began to hate the fact that I was born female. I resented my uterus. I directed all hate towards my monthly cycle.