Joan of Arc

12 year old girl

Maid of Orleans OMD 1981

Theres’s man touching my clitoris –

I know it’s called a clitoris because I looked at in the mirror. My sister told me I should look at my vagina in the mirror. I did as she said. I sat legs astride pulled the skin back saw in the reflection varying degrees of pink, red, muddy skinned brown.  

Every few weeks I carried out the ritual examining different parts. Once, I sat closer to the mirror, pulled apart my skin, looked at the short triangle, poked it – felt the the flexible rigid yield. The deep pink sides of the triangular structure showed a tiny hole. These holes in my body. Things come out and go in : urine, blood, clear and chalky liquids, Tampax, strange fingers – things I know, can feel but do not understand. 

I  wonder why this man has his hand on my vagina – feeling around all the parts I’ve seen in the mirror. 

I don’t know who he is. I’m not sure Beth does – I ask her to show me. 

Beth say’s we picked him up in a nightclub, upstairs at 2 am. 

Published by Stella McHugh

Survivor of so many things that happens to women and girls.

One thought on “Joan of Arc

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