My mom was set in her ways, she either got what she wanted, or would find a way to get what she wanted. She was a slender five-foot-three Islander, with long, black, wavy curls. Her grayish, blue eyes was what entrapped the males in her cobwebs. She was beautiful. Men worshipped the ground she walked on. I’ve never known her, until I turned 10 last year. Growing up with my dad, I’ve rarely seen or spoken to her.
As I was entering my pre-teen puberty year, he thought it would be best that I am taught the feministic ways of dressing, strutting, makeup, and growing boobs. The most awkward of them all, was me starting my period for the first time.
I remembered my dad screaming at me saying, “WHY DID YOU SHIT IN YOUR PANTIES?!”
I responded, “I did not! I don’t know where that came from! I don’t know what that is!” Thinking to myself, What is happening to me? Where did this brown stuff come from? I didn’t poop, because if I did, I would know. I’m not that stupid.
Dad walked towards me and yelled for me to take my panties off at that moment. I couldn’t defy him even if I wanted to. I do not need to get a beating today, just do as you are told. There’s no harm in just taking off my jeans, right? “Ok, dad. I’ll take off my panties.” Scared to death that he was going to slap me or beat the living crap out of me, I slowly undid the button and unzipped my jeans.
“HURRY UP, I DON’T HAVE TIME FOR THIS SHIT.”
My jeans dropped to the floor, but that wasn’t enough for daddy. He wanted everything off. I knew better. Trying to choke back tears in my eyes, I slowly took off my panties.
Dad roared, “YOU SHOULD BE USED TO THIS BY NOW. STOP ACTING LIKE YOU’VE NEVER DONE THIS BEFORE!”
Of course, I have done this before, but that doesn’t make it any less uncomfortable for me. Every time dad asked me to do something for him, I would never object, but my body did. It would try to show a little form of resistance in some way or another. I always had to will my body to stop doing its own thing or else we both would pay for it later. As I slid the panties in between my legs down to my ankles, I couldn’t believe what I saw.
“DO YOU SEE THAT? THERE ARE DARK BROWN STAINS ON YOUR PANTIES, AND YOU’RE TELLING ME YOU DIDN’T SHIT?! WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU?”
Meanwhile, I couldn’t wrap my head around where the hell did that brown stain come from? I swear on my ancestor’s grave that I did NOT shit on myself. Right then, a large-sized glob the size of a half-dollar fell from somewhere inside of me and onto the panties that were still in between my ankles. A look of horror appeared on my dad’s face.
Barely audible, “Those brown stains were dried blood? When did this start? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t know it was blood. I didn’t even feel anything coming from inside of me, until this glob came out. I didn’t even notice it. I felt funny all week, so this is what people call a period?”
“Yes, it is, my dear child. That means you and me cannot play our games anymore. Did you tell your brother that you started?”
“No. Why does he need to know?”
“Because now you could have babies. Don’t you DARE get pregnant with anyone. I’m going to be damn sure you won’t see the light of day. Better yet, I know that you won’t get pregnant because you don’t play games with anyone but me, right?”
“Yes, sir.” He didn’t know that my brother and his friends were playing a different kind of game with me. They told me to not tell dad or they won’t buy me ice cream anymore. I always acknowledged, because that was the only time I could ever have it. My dad never allows me to have any sweets or drink any sodas because he said I will get fat. If there was an opportunity for me to get ice cream or chocolate, I would do anything, including allowing my brother and his friends to play with me.
“LOOK AT ME!”
I raised my head to meet his eyes. He squeezed the sides of my cheek near the opening of my mouth with his pointy finger and thumb, making my mouth pout like a blowfish.
“HAS ANYONE ELSE BEEN PLAYING GAMES WITH YOU?”
“WHAT?! I CAN’T HEAR YOU.”
“That’s my good little girl. Now let’s go find some toilet paper and stuff your panties so you can bleed into the tissue instead of ruining all your underwear.”
Nodding, I bent down and pulled the panties off completely, being careful not to let the glob of blood touch my feet. I bunched up the panty in my left hand and then followed my dad into the bathroom. He grabbed the roll of toilet paper and began folding each one over one another until it looked like there were about five layers. He told me to grab a fresh pair of panties, I obliged.