Last year, I travelled with a non-profit organization called A Voice is Heard to help deliver birthing kits to midwives in remote Maasai villages in Southern Kenya. One hot, dusty afternoon we visited a remote village where I met a girl about 12 years old. As I tried to speak with her, I was overwhelmed by the feeling that I could not possibly relate to this girl. We were from different worlds.
I awkwardly asked her why she was not in school with the rest of the children. “Hedhi,” she said in Swahili. She had her period.
And in that moment, I realized that while this girl and I have vastly different life experiences, every month she and I both bleed.
My period was just a monthly nuisance that made me tired and intensified my desire for carbohydrates and dark chocolate. For this…
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