I Wish I Knew Your Name (from the book)

I don’t remember your name but you became part of me that day. You were new to my class and a year older. Your body caused quite a stir in class. All our young bodies were morphing into new creatures: more hair, curves, and there was a different sort of curiosity about each other in the air.

One day you stood up and there was blood on the chair. The teacher rushed you out of the room. I clearly remember the terror I felt. The class was chaotic.

I got “the talk” a year later. My mother drew my girl parts inside my body on some piece of paper. She told me I would bleed every month. I was not really paying attention. Nothing was said about the accident. I asked about you because you didn’t come back to class. The kids were brutal. Shame can take you out of life. I wanted to say I am sorry. I wanted to know how you were.

Much has changed since 1962 but the shaming silently lurks in the shadows keeping the wonder of our bleeding cloaked. Its not safe to reveal how vulnerable we really are, we didn’t learn to ask for the support when we needed it. It ought to be a given that those who love us circle around us and guide us during such pivotal moments of development but it is not. Somethings can change if we can see we are sisters and share our stories.

Revealing an unwanted pregnancy is similar. It is an accident that brings on the shame. A pivotal moment that is rarely spoken of because there is no little support.

So now, in this moment, I want to attend to you, to honor your vulnerability in a shaming culture. You were my initiation into the shame of being born a girl. You touched my heart and I didn’t say anything to you at the time. I didn’t have the words then but I do now. You are part of my circle of support.

So also was the moon, the ocean and the utter beauty of earth that brought my tender girl heart comfort.

I was always fully welcomed…free to cry, rant and rage, sing and be soothed by her.

I wish I knew your name.