11 years old.

I saw the red that painted my favourite pair of panties.

The white one, with the pink polka dots.

Stained.

My eyes filled with fear.

Mom’s eyes filled with joy.

An anxious feeling flowed through my body.

“Today, you are a woman.” She told me.

I suddenly was not so scared anymore.

“Today, you are a woman.”

–          The words rang in my head.

I was excited to be a woman.

13 years old.

My grandmother spanked me for staining the white sheets for the 3rd day in a row.

“Today, you are a woman.”

–          The words rang in my head.

I didn’t like being a woman, that day.

 

14 years old.

An overwhelming pain made its presence known in my lower abdomen.

“Today, you are a woman.”

–          The words rang in my head.

Being a woman was painful.

15 years old.

A man old enough to be my father, proclaimed me as his sweetheart from across the street.

“Today, you are a woman.”

–          The words rang in my head.

I was embarrassed to be a woman, that day.

 

19 years old.

I was sexually violated by someone I thought I could trust.

19 years old.

Coming up with reasons for why it was my fault and not his.

19 years old –

“Today, you are a woman.”

–          The words rang in my head.

I was scared to be a woman, that day.

21 years old.

Today, I am a woman.

Today, I am I asking myself why the same fear that had first filled my eyes when I was 11 years old, did not fill my mother’s eyes.

Today, I am asking myself, why my mother failed to mention what it truly meant to be a woman.

 

11 years old.

My favourite pair of panties weren’t the only thing stained, that day.

My youth; tainted.

“Today, you are woman.”

–          The words rang in my head.

 

11 years old.

I began to carry the burden that it is,

To be a woman.