a post about a book about menstruation
It doesn't take long for girls in Turkey to understand that an unequal life awaits them. While being proper is the state you need to go after as a girl, you witness the most improper act imposed on the boys from early ages: "come and show your aunts your little penis dear". Wait, what? This absurd proposal leaves you confused: should i feel neglected that my vagina is not worthwhile for sightseeing or should i feel relieved that it is not? The relief of not to be pushed to show your vagina takes over the concerns of your value. But you are always reminded of your value. I remember many gatherings where my parents were kind of comforted for having two girls. The advantages of having girls would be listed; being less problematic compared to boys, helping the housework and the possibility of being taken care of by the girls when you get old making the top of the list. In other words girls would be more proper human beings, you could count on them. The daily reminders of a girl as a proper figure accumulate to the point of transforming you into one that knows intuitively what is proper for a girl and what is not. Your first menstruation and the following hundreds is a an area for instance your intuition tells you here is another thing to be improperly proper about. It is something perfectly natural but you are supposed to hide it, find or learn secret vocabulary, develop habits that will keep you discreet. So, you join the gang of the women population who says my aunt is visiting or beginning of the month for your menstruation, hide the main reason why you are crawling on the floor in pain and find an excuse for not attending the family gathering, roll and hide the pad discreetly in your pocket before heading to the toilet, avoid eye contact as you stand in line in supermarket with pads and most importantly to normalize all these ridiculous behaviors and not to discuss like many other topics where you aim for the properness norm of the society.
So, with all this cultural history in your soul when you see the book on menstruation "Gennemblødt" shining proudly at the 14-days-loan section at the library, after a night you spent online watching the surreal coup attempt in Turkey from your room in Copenhagen, you feel like shouting "yes, i am home". You don't but you naturally smile and grab the book. It isn't even important if the book is good or bad. It exists and there is a library you can just walk to in about 700 steps and borrow it. That is the kind of life you imagined for yourself and you are living it. That is one of the things that make you connected to this city, make you say “I Feel From Copenhagen”, to be in sync with it, what it proposes you is what you need and want and value.
The book is good by the way. Everyone should read it, boys included. I liked that it has both informative sections and personal stories, has a critical voice over the industry providing menstruation products, introduces activists and artists exploring this topic, and discusses the flaws in policymaking around it. Maybe towards the end i felt a bit bored of the repetition of menstruation is not something to be ashamed of idea but i get that it is necessary because we were told the otherwise for like ages. Despite my awareness i would continue being uncomfortable about it i am sure.
So in the fashion of the book; my personal story:
I think I was 11 or something when i got my first menstruation. I woke up to find out that my favorite pistachio green tights were ruined. I had no idea what it is and thought i got super sick. I was already being treated for urinary tract infection and this was the new chapter. I was so scared thinking that now i have kidney failure and will be connected to dialysis machine, wait for a matching kidney for years and die at an early age. Even worse, my mom's kidney would match me and she would die at an early age because she was already not very healthy leaving me feeling terrible for the rest of my life. Obviously we had some family friends who were suffering from kidney failure and i have been listening to their stories every other night gatherings under their excessive smoking. I think my mom told me what it is and I felt a relief that i won't be waiting at the hospital corridors for the rest of my life. She gave me a gigantic pad that i hated. It wasn't discreet like in the commercials because she couldn't afford them. That day we were supposed to go to my aunts, which i wasn't very keen on already. So i made big fuss about not wanting to go; i had pain, it was all new, and i didn't like the cat. I don't remember the result, if my grumpiness helped me to get out of my family obligation or not. But the potential was there, i found another good excuse to slip off things in addition to i have homework to do.