I was a precocious child. Nothing escaped my attention, which is why when one sunny afternoon, during a family walk, my mom’s sudden exclamation put me in high alarm. Although I was only six years old, I believed myself to be her protector. I tried to catch her urgent whispering to my father. He first looked confused and then horrified. Without a word, he removed his button-up shirt and offered it to her. I was stunned that my father stood in the middle of the street, wearing only a tank top, while my mother tied his shirt around her waist, murmuring a soundless “Thank you” in his direction.
Something had happened. Something so terrible my parents didn’t have the words to describe it. I grew alarmed. Since no one would answer my questions, I walked behind my mother to lift the shirt tied to her waist. She turned around in a fury, slapping my hand away. But not before I caught a glimpse of a red stain on her light-blue jeans. The stain was unmistakably blood. I don’t remember what she said to me after, but I remember my fear for her safety.
That night when I was reading in bed, my mother knelt in front of me, and told me the news: when I grew up to be about eleven or twelve, I’d bleed like that too. All women do. I didn’t ask her for specifics although the questions in my mind resembled a tornado.
My mother, who was prepared against any eventually in life, had been caught unaware, betrayed by her body.
I remained unnaturally quiet as the facts sunk in.
I stayed silent for years and years, dreading the moment when the bleeding would start and looking for information on how to stop it. I found it in bits and pieces scattered around me in everyday life and books, my trusted friends. But the dictionary and the Bible, the only books we had at home, didn’t offer the comfort I needed and looked for.
As a child reader, I had always resorted to fiction to find the meaning of my life experiences, and also, to find empowerment and validation, but it was a while until I found books that reflected the process of growing into my body.
Unfortunately, I didn’t find Judy Blume’s Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret, until I was already an adult, but the classic has inspired a variety of books that depict puberty and menstruation. There is a plethora of non-fiction books and websites that fulfill the basic role of informing about the cold facts of menstruation, but fiction provides a means to find validation in a universal experience that remains taboo. As a mother and writer, I’m delighted that today, children have more representation in fiction of what it means to grow up.
Judy Blume’s Margaret inspired a generation of writers like Lauren Myracle, who was not afraid of putting her heroine through the trauma of getting her periods in the most inconvenient situations, like in the pool or while trying on a swimsuit at the mall. Aida Salazar, in The Moon Within, introduces us to a young girl rebelling against her mom’s desire to give her a moon ceremony for her first period while also supporting a dear friend who is nonbinary. Hélène Boudreau explored the scenario of a girl having to ask information from her dad when she gets her period. Other authors like Tamora Pierce mentioned their super-strong heroines (Alanna and Keladry) getting their periods during page training, and portrayed it as the hardest task they had faced until that point: the body refusing to be controlled like they could control a fear of heights or a mob of bullies. Melina Marchetta, in Finnikin of the Rock, gives her heroine Evanjalin a superpower: the gift of walking through people’s dreams when she’s on her period. Whether it’s in a contemporary situation or an imaginary medieval court, menstruation has slowly taken up more space on the shelves. But we need more of these stories, and most importantly, we need them to reach the hands of readers who start going through puberty at younger ages and desperately need and crave representation.
Children read to learn about the world, but ultimately, they read in order to learn about themselves and to acquire the tools required to navigate life’s challenges. Books are the perfect medium through which children (not only girls) can learn that menstruation and puberty aren’t gross or shameful topics relegated to whispered chats in a bathroom in junior high or even elementary school. When authors acknowledge this pivotal moment in life, they have the power to give voice and importance to an event that changes a child forever.
Adults who prevent children from reading about puberty and all it entails shroud these topics with shame and stigma. Dr. Jyoti Sanghera, UN Office of the High Commissioner for Human Rights, stated “stigma around menstruation is a violation of human rights.” In some countries, girls drop out of school when they get their periods because of lack of sanitary products. In our elementary schools, girls are vilified because of being early bloomers, just like Laura Danker from Judy Blume’s novel.
Although menstruation is a normal part of life, some menstruators have such violent physical side effects from menstruation (migraines, excruciating pain, hemorrhaging) that the transition into adulthood turns into a nightmarish experience. These children deserve to see themselves and their experiences reflected on the pages of a book.
Growing up and coming of age go hand-in-hand and represent so much more than either the physical or the emotional aspect of a child’s life. There’s no emotional growth without physical growth and vice versa. Although nothing can fully prepare children to face the struggle of shapeshifting, of shedding the cloak of innocence to wear the crown of knowledge, books and stories provide scaffolding upon which children can build their own experiences or have empathy for the people who go through these changes. The changes in body, mind, and soul during puberty affect people for the rest of their lives. In voicing the reality of growing up physically, authors can reaffirm the value of puberty and show the world that menstruation issues truly matter. Not every middle grade book needs to address puberty, but the positive impact on children upon seeing menstruation realistically portrayed in fiction should be an incentive for all of us striving to reflect the true tween experience in our stories.
© 2024 Yamile Saied Méndez
Yamile (sha-MEE-lay) Saied Méndez is an Argentine-American author of many books, including Furia, a Reese book Club selection and a Pura Belpré gold medal. She also co-edited Calling the Moon: 16 Period Stories from BIPOC Authors with Aida Salazar, and is the author of the upcoming middle grade book The Beautiful Game which portrays a teen soccer player getting her first period during a crucial game. Yamile is a graduate of Voices of our Nations (VONA) and the Vermont College of Fine Arts MFA Writing program. She lives in Utah with her multicultural family, and is the founding member of Las Musas, a marketing collective for Latine creators. She’s represented by Linda Camacho, from the Gallt and Zacker Literary Agency. Connect with her at yamilesmendez.com.