When I slide the windows of my past and look back on my early teenage years, a memory stands out like a bright red dot in the sea of grey. I have many stories, but this one is called my duel with a mysterious phenomenon called menstruation, the truth behind vaginal cups, and how it coloured my world with shades of confusion, shame, and eventually, acceptance.

My story

I was just 14, an age when every day seemed like a maze of unpredictability. One day, I found myself wading through the shallow waters of gossip and whispers that danced around me. The topic of these secretive conversations? Menstruation. I had heard the word before, but it was always whispered, never openly discussed. I remember the first time I realised what it meant – it was like a bolt of lightning struck me, and I was left stunned by the reality that awaited me.

That inevitable day arrived, shrouded in apprehension and unspoken fear. I found myself in a realm of discomfort, faced with a reality I wasn’t prepared for. My body seemed to have a mind of its own, and I felt trapped within its whispers and secrets. As if the cramps weren’t enough, there was an entire arsenal of social stigmas that came along with this natural bodily process. I felt like an outsider in my own skin.

The moment of realisation

But outside our tight-knit circle, the world was different. Society had an unwritten rule – never speak of the monthly cycle that half the population endured. It was like an unsolved puzzle, a taboo subject that drenched conversations in awkwardness. I wondered why something so natural, so common, was wrapped in shame. Wasn’t it a part of life? Slowly, a fire began to kindle within me. I was determined to break free from the chains of secrecy and stigma.

As I navigated through my teenage years, I started to educate myself about menstruation, its biology, its purpose. I was astounded to learn that it was a sign of my body’s strength, not a mark of weakness. And then it struck me – the very thing I had hidden from, the thing that had once caused my cheeks to flush with humiliation, was actually a symbol of power. It was the spark that ignited a woman’s journey, a monthly reminder of our unique ability to bring life into this world. I noticed pockets of change in the fabric of society – initiatives that aimed to smash the taboo, voices that dared to challenge the norms. Today, as I stand on the cusp of adulthood, I wear my experiences like armour. The once-embarrassing stains and confusions about how to wear a menstrual cup are now badges of resilience. The whispers have transformed into shouts of defiance. I have come to embrace my body’s rhythm, to celebrate the natural ebb and flow of life. The journey from a timid girl to a confident young woman wasn’t easy, but it was transformative.

It’s a wrap! 

And so, I share my story, not just for myself, but for every young girl who feels lost and confused, for every woman who carries the weight of societal norms. It’s a story of growth, of realising that what makes us unique should never be a source of shame. It’s a story of turning adversity into strength, stigma into liberation. Menstruation is not just a bodily process; it’s a declaration of our existence, a proclamation of our power. And with that realisation, the red dot that once marked my trauma now stands as a symbol of strength, a reminder that I am more than the whispers, more than the stigma. I am a force to be reckoned with.

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