By Nawal Eddaoudi
“To the One I Was Before the Red” is a collection of letters, poems, and confessions written by women of all ages and backgrounds.
Multiple voices gathered around a shared moment: the moment when the body began to speak, in its own way, through blood, surprise, shame, pride, transformation.
Before it all began
If you could write a letter to your younger self, just before her first period…
What would you tell her? What would you want her to know about what awaits her, about the body, the blood, life, the beauty of becoming a woman?
The day your body spoke
Remember that moment, where were you, what did you feel, what shifted inside you?
Write it like a scene, or like a blurry memory held between embarrassment, mystery, and pride.
What I wish someone had told me
Is there a phrase, a look, a presence you would have wanted to receive that day?
What would that word, gesture, or tenderness have changed?
Red as a symbol
If this first blood represented something, what would it be?
A beginning, a loss, a rebirth, an initiation, a rebellion?
Let the image, the metaphor, the color come to you.
The body we learn to love
How has your relationship with your body evolved since then?
Write about transformation, what you had to tame, heal, or celebrate.
The women in your lineage
Think of your mother, grandmother, aunts, or other women.
What did they pass on, consciously or not, through silence, gestures, or stories?
What do you want to continue or do differently?
To the one who felt “dirty” or “lost”
Write her a letter of forgiveness, compassion, or love.
Tell her what you know now, what you’ve learned about strength, softness, and dignity.
And now?
What does your cycle represent for you today?
A burden? A sacred rhythm? A source of power?
How do you see this connection between your blood, your creativity, your nature?
Before it all begins
My Camille,
It is on May 1st that you will discover this part of yourself. I don’t think you will feel an instant change within you, but in the eyes of the world, that day will mark the rest of your existence. It took me a long time to understand it, but in truth, that day brings you closer to yourself, to what is most sacred within you. What is known as the sacred feminine. It allows you to understand that everything is cyclical and that you live in harmony with the universe, that you are like the moon and that all its phases are reflections of the depth of your being. Your menstrual cycles will remind you how powerful, alive, and wonderful you are. Your body is wonderful, it is a temple that you must always honor, treat with care and love. It will take time to find ease in this discomfort, but little by little you will get there. Periods can be perceived as dirty, they can also be sexualized or even be a taboo subject, but this is not the case. It is the magic of life expressing itself within us.
The day my body spoke
It was May 1st, and I was at my parents’ friends’ house with my childhood friend. I felt something unusual coming out of my crotch. I remember pulling down my white pants in the bathroom and discovering the bloodstain. I was scared, but I immediately knew what it was. We talked about it with my friends at school, and it seemed abstract to me, but I knew it would happen.
Fortunately, I was in familiar surroundings, so I didn’t feel alone. I don’t know how I felt that day. I don’t feel like anything changed suddenly.
I didn’t feel alone or overwhelmed. I enjoyed the moment.
Red as a symbol
Your first period is the first step towards yourself.
Learning to love my body
Having my period brought me closer to my body and my inner self. I had painful periods. Every month my body was in turmoil, it affected my digestive system, I couldn’t manage the flow of blood, I felt dirty sometimes, and then the years went by; we grow up, we learn to understand our bodies better, we take the pill to manage the pain. At first, I took a pill that cut me off from my body, my emotions, and my feelings, but then a few years ago I switched, and thank God I did, because I understood the power of being able to feel your body, living in tune with its cycles. Today, I love feeling the premenstrual symptoms, I love the vibration of my emotions, I love feeling my presence in my body and feeling it change over the cycles.
The women in my lineage
My mother helped me a lot to understand my body, to take the time to observe it and understand how it works. The first time I had to use a tampon, she gave me a mirror and told me to sit in front of it and look at my vulva. She explained where to put it and advised me to take all the time I needed. I did it alone, but I followed all her advice and it helped me a lot. It’s worth mentioning that my mother worked in the maternity ward. She was an anesthetist and therefore had a gentle and caring approach to questions about the female body and women in general. I think that gave me the foundation to feel comfortable discovering my body, which I learned to honor and consider a sacred temple.
And now?
Today, my cycle represents my connection to the universe. To life. To the moon. To all living things.
-Camille-
Periods Aren’t a Secret, And Neither Is My Story
The word “period” was always and still is a taboo topic in my household. The taboos also extended outside of my home, where even at school, I wasn’t allowed to attend any classes about health education.
Then one day, one of my aunts approached me and told me, “You are at the age where you will be getting your period. You will see it in your underwear, and when you do, just tell your mom or me.” With zero clue of what she meant, I actually felt excited that something “new” was going to happen to me.
Fast forward a few months, and I started to have period cramps at the age of 12. I was on vacation in the UK, visiting family.
At the time, I was sharing a room with some of my younger male cousins. One night, I woke up and realized that I had stains in my underwear along with terrible cramps. I was too shy to ask my mom or even my aunt what was going on, so I just thought, “Oh, I’ll get better in the morning.”
I woke up the next morning, saw the disaster on the bed, rushed into the bathroom, and was given my first pad. It was so damn uncomfortable. I wasn’t sure how to move; I was scared it was going to fall off, and even more worried that it was showing.
On the first day of my vacation, I got my first period. I was moody, mad at the world, and trying to understand what was happening. I didn’t have any older siblings to talk to, and I was way too shy to mention it to anyone.
My blood flow was quite heavy and unmanageable. I would go to sleep staring at the ceiling, not moving an inch, afraid of dirtying something and guess what? I still managed to bloody the bed sheets on the very first night. My first days were awful, and I remember this episode vividly.
In the months that followed, things didn’t get better. They got worse. I had unbearable cramps where I could barely move and felt like a statue. I would take Advil just to make it through the day. Sometimes these cramps would hit while I was at school, and I would end up spending the whole day in the nurse’s room.
Fast forward 20 years, and getting my period hasn’t changed much. It always feels like the first time. I still have the usual cramps, the sleepless nights, and the same hatred for them that every woman in the world understands but I learned to live with them, and I learned how to help my younger niece deal with hers.
Now that I’m an aunt myself, I know exactly how I want the girls in my family to cope with their periods, the things I wish I had known:
- Eat foods that help alleviate period cramps
- Always keep a pad in your bag
- Track your period on an app or a notebook
- Speak openly about periods at home
- You can work out on your period, it actually helps reduce the pain
Throughout the years, I educated myself because I had no one to ask questions to. I learned about the period, why it’s important to start conversations and normalize the topic even among men, and most importantly, that there is nothing to be ashamed of. It is not a disease.
-Urmi-
To the One I Was Before the Red
To you,
little Yela,
who walked through the world
as if everything was still drawn in chalk,
lines you could erase
with the back of your hand.
You didn’t know yet
that your body had its own language,
a secret alphabet
woven into your bones,
into your nights,
into the quiet spaces you thought were empty.
The day the red found you,
you thought it was a mistake.
An accident.
A secret too heavy
for your glitter-covered notebook.
You tightened your legs,
your breath,
even your words.
As if becoming a woman
was a step you weren’t told
you’d have to learn.
But I,
the one you will become,
I come back to you now
with wide arms
and a heart overflowing with softness.
I want to tell you:
it wasn’t an ending,
nor a punishment.
It was a doorway.
A red doorway.
A threshold into your own strength.
A sign that your body
had started writing with you,
not against you.
You didn’t know it then, Yela,
but that red
was the very first color
of your courage.
The first proof
that you could turn
surprise into knowledge,
shame into light,
fear into language.
Today,
I still carry that red within me.
But I wear it high.
Like a banner,
like a memory,
like the voices of all those
who once trembled
before their own story
before learning to tell it.
So I write to you,
to the one who didn’t understand,
to the one who didn’t dare:
thank you for keeping on,
even with shaking knees.
It is because of you
that I became
the one who no longer hides,
the one who knows,
the one who loves,
the one who speaks.
The one I am
after the red.
-Yela-
My name is Nora, and before my period, I was a frail silhouette in the making.
I walked through my own life as if crossing a blurry dream: without edges, without contours, without really feeling the weight or grace of my changing body.
I was growing up without realizing it.
Then there was that stormy night.
The sky roared like a restless animal, the rain drummed against the windows, and I felt, without understanding it, a tremor coming from within.
When I saw the dark stain on the sheets, my whole world stopped.
I thought it was a mistake, an accident, a personal catastrophe.
I had no words.
I had no reference points.
I had only the immense silence around me.
In the morning, my grandmother found me.
She didn’t frown or ask any questions.
She just sat down next to me, her back straight, her hands resting on her hot cup of tea.
Then, in a whisper that tasted of ancient stories, she murmured:
“Periods are not the end, Nora. Periods are something that only those who bear life, one day or not, can know. It is a legacy. A memory that passes from body to body.” Then, for the first time since the day before, I could breathe.
That day, I understood that periods were not a danger.
Not a fault.
Not a verdict.
Red was a language.
A call.
An ancient key that unlocked a door I didn’t even know I had inside me.
To the person I was before my period, I would like to say today:
You weren’t ready, and no one is.
You can’t prepare yourself to become the site of a mystery.
You trembled, yes.
But you held on, like all those who came before you.
You thought you were alone that night.
In reality, you were surrounded by all the voices, all the hands, all the women who learned to walk with that red color inside them.
My period took me by surprise.
It upset you.
But it also initiated you.
Because periods are not a break.
Periods are a root.
Deep, invisible roots,
planted in the memory of all women,
and which came to find you, too,
in the heart of the storm.
-Nora-
This collection brings together different voices, stories from different backgrounds, ages, and cultures. Yet they all converge at the same moment: when the body begins to speak through the period.
As we read or write these texts, we realize that this experience, often met with surprise, incomprehension, or silence, is in fact shared by millions of women. Each woman experiences it in her own way, with her own emotions, memories, and questions.
This collection does not aim to glorify or dramatize this passage, but simply to acknowledge it. To say: this is what we have experienced, this is what we have felt, and this is how it has shaped us.
By giving these women a voice, we are reaffirming a reality that is often overlooked: this moment is part of life, part of us, without shame or taboo.
It is neither an end nor a break. It is a change, a milestone, sometimes a shock, sometimes an expected step, but always a significant event.
We hope that these pages have brought a sense of understanding, normalcy, perhaps even comfort.
And that through these testimonials, each woman will be able to recognize a piece of herself, or simply feel less alone.
To all those of yesterday, today, and tomorrow: the period is part of history, and you never had to wear it in silence.
This article was written by Nawal Eddaoudi, as part of The Red Pen Collective writing group created by Monthly Dignity.
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