The Ramona community share stories of their first periods // illustrations by Xia Jing
Ramona’s First Rodeos is a celebration of our community’s beautifully varied firsts—the moments that shape us, challenge us, and connect us. In this ever-evolving series, we share stories that remind us we’re not alone in our joys, embarrassments, growing pains, and unexpected turns. We invite you to be part of it. Cry, laugh, cringe, and rejoice with us in these shared-but-unique rites of passage.
Our very first First Rodeo is all about menarche—a girl’s first period—and the many ways it’s experienced across our community.
Have a story to share? We’d love to hear it. Send your experience to info@ramonamag.com with First Rodeo: Period in the subject line.
Freya
Despite the fact that I was nearly 14 when I got my first period, I forgot to have any supplies on hand should my period arrive at school. Many of my friends had already started their periods, and I was eager for mine to arrive—not out of some romanticised notion of womanhood (my joy and connection to my womanhood through periods came later), but simply to get that first period over with. I was a really anxious kid and teenager (and am still an anxious adult) and I really didn’t like the anticipation. My period arrived at school during lunchtime, quietly—just a single wipe instead of a flood—and I knew immediately it had come. Heading back to my friends, I casually announced that my period had started, though I had nothing with me. Kristina, who was still waiting for her own period, kindly offered me a pad from her lovingly packed zip up pouch and I gratefully accepted, taking the pad and feeling a sense of relief that I was finally here.
Erandhi
Aged about 13 I came home from school one afternoon, innocuously went to the bathroom only to discover my first period. Many of my friends had theirs already so I wasn’t surprised, but I do remember feeling comically inconvenienced. This was mostly because I knew what would happen next – there would be some ceremony. In Sri Lankan culture, a girl’s first period is celebrated. If you went back far enough, this definitely has deep patriarchal roots that likely still exist back home (being able to bear children and therefore suddenly being of marriageable age). But, with the privilege of being a first generation immigrant this simply meant there would be a party this weekend. That night I remember my Mum giving me a pad for the first time and I recall being grumpy that I couldn’t go to an already arranged activity as this took precedence. All was forgiven that weekend when all my friends came over, yellow was the unofficial dress code and there was an absurd amount of delicious food. There are elements of this tradition that I think the West loves – it’s palatable to watch other cultures commemorate something with reverence that is oft seen as taboo, but it’s genesis is complex. My experience was overwhelmingly positive, which suggests it is possible to change the intent and hold on to a tradition – something I wonder if I will do one day if I ever have a daughter of my own.
Nimuel
When I was 11, playing at school, a teacher approached me and remarked on how dirty my pants were. I was wearing my white primary school uniform, and when I looked down, I saw dark-red spots on my pants. I assumed it was from playing with my friends on the schoolyard, but panic set in. I feared that if my parents saw this, they would scold me for dirtying my uniform. When I got home, I secretly tossed my pants and underwear into the family trashcan, burying them under banana peels, hoping no one would notice.
To my surprise, my mother found the pants. Rather than scolding me, she calmly explained that girls would begin to bleed at a certain age, and that it was a natural monthly process called a “period.” She showed me how to clean the blood off and even brought me some pads.
Looking back, I remember her telling me to keep my period hidden, as though it were something shameful. But now, as an adult, I realize that it’s not something to be ashamed of—just a natural part of life, albeit an inconvenient one at times.
Haylee
My first period was at school, I knew what it was the moment I felt my underwear soak in my math class. I ran out of the room to the bathroom and started to cry. The blood had soaked through my school skirt and the pain started immediately. My tears lasted until I got home and my nan soaked my clothes in the sink and held me close. She told me I’d be okay and that this was just the beginning of a long journey ahead of me.
Angie
I don’t remember much about the day I got my first period. It wasn’t a big moment for me because I had already been taught what to expect long before it happened. My family, especially my mom and sister, were really open about the whole thing, so when it finally came, it was treated as just another part of growing up. No one made a big deal out of it, and in turn, I didn’t either.
That being said, I remember being curious about what it would feel like before it happened. Since both my mom and sister had already gone through it, I would sometimes wonder how it would be for me and if I’d feel different. But when it did happen, I realized it was more of a quiet, almost unremarkable transition for me—maybe because I had been so well-prepared by the women in my family.
