During all of this crying, I found myself thinking, "If I only had a place to go where I could cry and no one would question it. If there was a place I could go to get away from the world and just feel crappy PMS ass." Then I cried even harder wishing that my world had safe places for women who need support before and during menstruation; I want to go to the red tent. Sure, the red tent is reserved for women who are actually menstruating but I'd kill to be able to go to one today. I am craving escape, understanding, comradery, a nap, a good laugh, distraction, and the empathy of other women.
Many cultures around the world currently have menstrual huts as part of life. Native American cultures are famous for the menstrual huts that women would go to during menstruation to bond, celebrate femininity, and encourage creativity during a time where women were believed to be more connected intuitively.
It's clear as to why we don't have these special places in the Western world now. Our periods are something that we are supposed to hide. Our periods are something we are supposed to be ashamed of and feel is "disgusting". A menstrual hut would not only blow these bullshit beliefs and habits out of the water, but would encourage the beauty and special nature of this time, the connection with our womanhood and our sisters, the celebration of all things feminine. Celebration?! That's right.
Rarely do I feel this out of sorts. Perhaps it can be chocked up to the fact that the weather is HORRIBLE these past few days and I'm likely mourning the arrival of ultra-wintry weather, but fuuuuuck I feel awful. I even got into a Facebook fight with a dear friend in Egypt. Then I cried. Then I texted a friend. Then I cried. Then I listened to music. Then I cried. This is madness, nobody should be forced into society in this condition. I want to be locked up in the red tent until emotionally functional Sarah returns.