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Show Moon - 80 were as strong as grown men's, stopped their bicycles and gazed somberly at her, their bare muscular legs pushing against the ground like trees. She despaired of getting a period, thinking her small breasts meant she'd never be a woman. When she was almost fourteen, the rusty blood finally came, but she despaired then, too, because she was afraid she had a terrible disease instead. Finally, she told her mother, who looked surprised, as if she also had given up on her, and said "Oh! The curse!" She demonstrated the use of the belt and napkins, and nothing more was said. Joy entered an agony of discomfort and embarrassment. How to keep from showing, with the straight skirts they wore? What if she smelled? And what to do about leaking over the edges, the sudden hot gushes in the middle of a class? She prayed for her mother not to tell James. Sometimes she prayed she would die and be rid of this body that shamed her so. Mother, it's a great sadness that you couldn't be happy for me. I wish I could have felt the joy of my old mother, Pocahontas. Never mind that most every American family claims descent from an Indian princess. Whatever story lets me stay alive, I'll use it. Years later, I read about Native American puberty rites. The new woman would be led into a hut where she'd stay alone until her bleeding stopped. This hut might have looked something like the willow dome I'd built in the woods near the cottage, a special place for prayers and listening alone to the birds. We think this isolation of the women was cruel and ignorant, but it could have been a release from the pressure of having to carry on as usual, a time of getting used to this new body without having to pretend that nothing's changed. A new woman in her hut might run the dirt through her hands and feel delight |
