The Vagina Monologues The V-Day Edition | Page 8

closed up, under the house. It's
down there. You happy? You made me talk—you got it out of me. You got an old lady to talk about her
down-there. You feel better now? [Turns away; turns back.] You know, actually, you're the first person
I ever talked to about this, and I feel a little better.
 
VAGINA FACT
At a witch trial in 1593, the investigating lawyer (a married man) apparently discovered a clitoris for
the first time; [he] identified it as a devil's teat, sure proof of the witch's guilt. It was “a little lump of flesh,
in manner sticking out as if it had been a teat, to the length of half an inch,” which the gaoler, “perceiving
at the first sight thereof, meant not to disclose, because it was adjoining to so secret a place which was
not decent to be seen. Yet in the end, not willing to conceal so strange a matter,” he showed it to various
bystanders. The bystanders had never seen anything like it. The witch was convicted.
—The Woman's Encyclopedia of Myths and Secrets
 
 I interviewed many women about menstruation. There was a choral thing that began to occur, a kind
of wild collective song. Women echoed each other. I let the voices bleed into one another. I got lost in
the bleeding.
I WAS TWELVE. MY MOTHER SLAPPED ME.
Second grade, seven years old, my brother was talking about periods. I didn't like the way he was
laughing.
I went to my mother. “What's a period?” I said. “It's punctuation,” she said. “You put it at the end of a
sentence.”
My father brought me a card: “To my little girl who isn't so little anymore.”
 I was terrified. My mother showed me the thick sanitary napkins. I was to bring the used ones to the
can under the kitchen sink. I remember being one of the last. I was thirteen. We all wanted it to come. I
was so afraid. I started putting the used pads in brown paper bags in the dark storage places under the
roof.
Eighth grade. My mother said, “Oh, that's nice.”
 In junior high—brown drips before it came. Coincided with a little hair under my arms, which grew
unevenly: one armpit had hair, the other didn't. I was sixteen, sort of scared. My mother gave me
codeine. We had bunk beds. I went down and lay there. My mother was so uncomfortable. One night, I
came home late and snuck into bed without turning on any lights. My mother had found the used pads
and put them between the sheets of my bed. I was twelve years old, still in my underpants. Hadn't gotten
dressed. Looked down on the staircase. There it was. Looked down and I saw blood.
Seventh grade; my mother sort of noticed my underwear. Then she gave me plastic diapers. My mom
was very warm—“Let's get you a pad.”
 My friend Marcia, they celebrated when she got hers. They had dinner for her. We all wanted our
period. We all wanted it now. Thirteen years old. It was before Kotex. Had to watch your dress. I was
black and poor. Blood on the back of my dress in church. Didn't show, but I was guilty. I was ten and a
half. No preparation. Brown gunk on my underpants. She showed me how to put in a tampon. Only got
in halfway. I associated my period with inexplicable phenomena. My mother told me I had to use a rag.
My mother said no to tampons. You couldn't put anything in your sugar dish. Wore wads of cotton. Told
my mother. She gave me Elizabeth Taylor paper dolls. Fifteen years old. My mother said, “Mazel tov.”
She slapped me in the face. Didn't know if it was a good thing or a bad thing. My period, like cake mix
before it's baked. Indians sat on moss for five days. Wish I were Native American. I was fifteen and I'd
been hoping to get it. I was tall and I kept growing. When I saw white girls in the gym with tampons, I

thought they were bad girls. Saw little red drops on the pink tiles. I said, “Yeah.”
 My mom was glad for me. UsedOBand liked putting my fingers up there. Eleven years old, wearing
white pants. Blood started to come out. Thought it was dreadful. I'm not ready. I got back pains. I got
horny. Twelve years old. I was happy. My friend had a Ouija board, asked when we were going to get
our periods, looked down, and I saw blood. Looked down and there it was. I'm a woman. Terrified.
Never thought it would come. Changed my whole feeling about myself. I became very silent and mature.
A good Vietnamese woman—quiet worker, virtuous, never speaks. Nine and a half. I was sure I was
bleeding to death, rolled up my underwear and threw them in a corner. Didn't want to worry my parents.
My mother made me hot water and wine, and I fell asleep. I was in my bedroom in my