Thursday 21 June 2007
Right, I’m fed up with this.
I’m fed up that the healing is taking so long. The stitches still haven’t gone. Pfff … I think that this damned convalescence will never end. Happily I can move about now, hmm? Because I have the feeling that I will have to do this personal hygiene until the end of my life. I’ve had enough of my clitoris still being pink and so big. What’s more, I don’t even know what it’s supposed to look like. Anyway, this morning I could swear that it had reduced in size. Well, not before time! That’s five weeks since I had the operation. Pfff….
And I’m not even talking about my labia minora. Fortunately I don’t know that they have been repaired too, do I? Because I still can’t see them. Don’t you rush yourselves girls, OK? Show yourselves when you are ready, why not? I’m withering here waiting for you but don’t you worry about me, all right? Take your time!
I must be patient and I’m the one who set this in motion, my man told me this morning. I agree totally.
But today I’ve had enough.
I’d like to restart my sexual life, I miss romping around more and more. I’d like to go back to the pool and swim with flippers. I’d like to be able to run for the bus or go upstairs four at a time.
But of course, I must wait. Longer and longer. Pfff…
The healing is taking its time already, but as if that weren’t enough, my mental reconstruction is tuning out to be more complicated than I thought. In my very naïve daydreams I imagined that my parents would ask me directly to forgive them, crying their eyes out and swearing that they had been wanting to since the day of my circumcision. I had imagined that they would tell me the truth about what happened that day. And that I would have managed to forgive them for having done so much harm.
I had a second scenario where my parents, shocked that I had undertaken the reconstruction, would have told me off severely. I would have defended myself by telling them at which point they had messed up as parents and that it was better for me to be in charge. Afterwards, we would have fallen out and never spoken again all our lives, which wouldn’t matter to me because I would get over it on my own.
Of course, it’s not at all like that as it has happened. Neither reconciliation in tears nor a complete break in uproar. No, instead, they kept their mouths shut. Or rather, my father kept his mouth shut. My mother, she may even have lied to me. And I ask myself which is worse, lying or not talking to me.
I have to say that I have done something quite dangerous. On a whim I wrote to my sister to ask her a question. I had to know if my mother did or did not participate in the decision to have us circumcised. I needed to know if she had lied to me on the telephone when she said she wouldn’t have done it for anything.
Yesterday morning in bed, I had the bright idea to ask the only other person likely to know: my sister. Who was six years old at the time and who might remember. In the email I sent her when I got up, I said sorry in advance for bringing up painful memories and then I asked her if she remembered something which would let me shed light on my mother’s possible participation.
She called me straight away (big surprise this phone call, in fact I thought she wouldn’t reply) to say that she remembered nothing convincing but that once, when she was a teenager, my father and she had spoken about it. And he had said that he had got into such an appalling rage because when my mother had suggested he would be Ok about us being circumcised, he had formally forbidden it and that she had done it nevertheless. My father had said to my sister that he had run to the dispensary near our village to ask for anti-tetanus vaccines for us both…
Damn, that struck to my heart to learn that my father spoke to my sister about it though he was silent with me. Frankly I get an enormous bowling ball sized lump forming in my throat when I think about it. Why doesn’t he talk to me about it? Why do I have the right only to silence?
And as for my mother, I can’t even speak about her. You would have to say she lied to me. Yes you would say that when she re ad my letter, my nice mother rushed straight to the phone to tell me a pure lie. That’s not great, is it? I am just finding out the extent of my anger towards her, and I can tell you it’s monumental.
She lied to me!!
In the end, if I can believe what my sister said that my father said because he doesn’t speak to me personally.
There are days like that when I can’t take any more. Days when I want to stop all the trouble. Today is a day like that, an ash-grey day.
I really am terribly fed up.
[Original in French]