My Intro to Periods

“You’re a woman now. No more playing with boys.”

Those were the only words my mother offered when I got my period at eleven—the first one in my class.

No explanation.

Just a thick rectangle of cotton wool, folded in silence, handed to me without eye contact.

When my teacher read my absence note aloud, the entire class learned why I’d missed school.

What I remember most is the quiet. The heaviness of becoming something new—“a woman”—without anyone showing me how to carry it.

Today, each token I create holds some memory of that silence—the words never spoken, the love never felt, the empathy never received.

I infuse my art with opportunities for conversations. Small, tangible pieces that invite others to connect.

Touchstones passed from one palm to another.

Bridges between what we hide and what we ache to share.

Perhaps, this is why they matter so much to me.

In making them, I offer what I never received: acknowledgment, presence, and a place to belong in the messy beauty of being human.