In some way, somehow, somewhere a girl gets taught that the passage to womanhood is through the monthly bleed. In some parts of the world, the girl gets told that THIS is where she stands weak and vulnerable. And since she is us, it is our burden to bear. Our flesh gets desirable, it is almost as if men can smell our fertility when they pass us by. This is where we become shameful and for some of us it is also where we have to bow down to the muscles of masculinity and accept our manmade faith.

Our words become solid-liquid of wisdom, and for that some will bite our tongues in half. When we bleed, we feel with every molecule in our body. We smell the lies floating in the air. And therefore we tend to tears easily. We feel your bitterness around us, it disrupts us from our calmness. We see the snakes of jealousy in your eyes, ready to spit its venom towards us.

It is not our mind that is weak, it is our body that senses yours despite. From both men and other women. Somewhere in this world, a girl is told; the bleeds are your punishment. They may never be seen. They may never be talked about. But what the girl does not now, is that her bleeds are a gift of deep cleans and that they allow her to enter a state of intense sensitivity in which she can become a woke being with a pure light.

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