I have this strange mythological notion about women, uteruses and emotions.
I feel that women are society’s emotional punching bags. Reservoirs of our communal experience. The vessels of life and death and everything inbetween. How do women exist when they must absorb the world’s pain and have no outlet to express it?
We bleed. Our uteruses shed the pain we must harbor. That lining flows from our uterus through the birthing canal and out into the world. The menstrual blood is unique–fortified and able to sustain life. Yet as women, our one way of releasing the world’s ineffable devastation is through physical, tangible pain. And it’s a monthly burden of being a woman.
But I like to believe that menstruation is not just a biological process. I like to think that women hold society together and as we sustain violence, misogyny, bigotry, harassment and death due only to our gender–we are super human, divine.
We compost society’s suffering. We are the physical bearers of pain–transferring society’s ills into disposable blood.
This is the story I tell myself as to why women endure so much. How we’ve survived for so long. And that menstruation is a super power. One that keeps humanity from self destructing.
Women are strong as hell.