Menstru’Elles, a project started by Yamiley and other young people, was announced to the general public by a video of first period testimonials. This video reminded me of my first period.
May 28 was the world menstrual hygiene day. On this occasion, Yamiley Démorcy, a young Haitian feminist, student in legal sciences, launched, in collaboration with other young people, a project under the name of Menstru’Elles. This project aims to raise awareness among the Haitian population about the first periods of young girls, the problem of endometriosis and the difficulty of access to sanitary napkins. The team had carried out activities both on social networks and face-to-face. I had the opportunity to watch a testimonial video of which Yamiley Démorcy was one of the directors. This tells the story of a young girl’s first period.
“I remember everything”
The story really touched me. A week later, she tickles my mind again and again. It reminds me of my first period. This period remains sharp and clear in my head. I have the images scrolling through it in sequence. I remember everything, the smallest things. From there, I was able to understand that there are periods such as childhood and adolescence which mark you forever and which do not cease to work on you despite the age… I remember everything. All. The feelings. Tati’s reaction. The reactions of my classmates. All.
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I remember I was twelve years old. I was in sixth grade. It was a Monday morning. I woke up very early to be able to go to school. I was dressed in a white nightgown. After rising from my bed, I went to the mirror, as usual, to look at my face and inspect the traces of my sweet sleep. I saw my nightgown stained with blood.
I didn’t even take a second to think or to ask what had happened to me. I quickly went to Tati’s room to show her. Upon arriving, she said to me in an ironic tone: you form Milie ” (in French, ” You have your first period, Milie“). Afterwards, she gave me a pack of sanitary napkins and showed me the techniques for attaching the tampon to the panties. And she threw this sentence at me. The only one that will serve as my sex education, which will always resonate with me despite so many years. ” Milie you have your period now, you can give birth like me. Attention ! » .
hard days at school
I remember that I had remained silent; indifferent. I left Tati’s room. I took my bath and went to school. That day, the teacher had worked on the grammar lessons. He sent the students to the blackboard. After three students, it was my turn. I knew how to do what he asked of me. By being on the board. I felt there was a hubbub in the room. The girls were laughing out loud. I thought I had made a mistake. I revised again and again the sentence that the teacher had asked me to write. No fault. The verbs were well conjugated. The points were well placed…
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When I glanced around the room, the girls stopped laughing. They remained serious as I had never seen them. I was still scrutinizing my sentence to find the plot. They burst out laughing again. The teacher asked them to be quiet and told me out loud that my skirt was stained with blood, if I didn’t know that I was going to have my period and that I shouldn’t be so careless as a daughter. I must not show my blood. From there, I realized that I had applied Tati’s lessons incorrectly, I had attached the tampon to the panties incorrectly.
hell for me
That day, I felt myself sinking into shame. I stood frozen in front of the room. I didn’t know which foot to put forward to take refuge in my place. The professor himself had continued to rub the knife in the wound. In an ironic tone, in complicity with the room, he told me that I am a woman, I could even give birth to 10 children, woe to me if I went to taste the sugar of the boys. Faced with these words, I remained silent. I really wanted to cry. I didn’t know why, I was holding back. The teacher had asked me to go to the bathroom to clean myself up. The facility did not have sanitary pads for the girls. I just have to readjust my towel to the panties and tack my skirt…
I remember all these things. From this bad day to suffer the mockery of my classmates. Even during recess, they hadn’t let me down. I didn’t know where to stand. The establishment was becoming hell for me. I always couldn’t wait to go home. I had spent a whole week like that.
I remember all these things. Images remain clear and crisp. I remember this period thanks to this great initiative taken by Yamiley and his team. Who knows ! Perhaps one of my comrades on the other side of the world, reading this post, can well remember these hard times they made me live.