Remember those “Welcome to Womanhood” menstruation videos forced upon us in 5th grade? If my memory serves me correctly, all of us – about 65 eleven-year-old girls – were crammed in a 100 square foot room to watch a video during P.E. Sitting cross-legged on the floor, the lights turned off, and on came Kathy and Amber.

Kathy, the young ballerina, is being mentored by her older, wiser dance teacher about what to expect when her first period comes. Never mind where Kathy’s mother is, or if she even has a legal guardian – what’s important is her teachers’ enthusiasic interest in Kathy’s private parts.

Miss Amber (teacher) puts her arm around Kathy’s shoulder, and points out the tragedy of nipple erections displayed by Kathy’s budding breasts through her leotard. She offers Kathy a sports bra, conveniently located in the top drawer of her office desk, after explaining the treasures that accompany “coming of age.” These include oily hair, body odor, maintaining smooth armpits, widening hips, inner thigh expansion, and compact sanitary napkins made just small enough to fit snug in your back pocket.

(Infomercial voice here):

Don’t be afraid, Ladies! Amber has come to the rescue – she discusses your body’s hormones without pause, and smiles with eagerness at the arrival of young women’s periods. Just think: Your-Very-Own-Period!

(Voice ends)

Dude, doesn’t this give you the creepies? Today, a bra-hoarding educator eagerly discussing the genitals of pre-teen girls would be in major violation of standard sexual harassment policies. But back in 1992, these VHS sex-tapes were top of the line. Directed by retired old white men, I suspect they were supposed to make us want to be like Kathy and Amber – eager to learn about our changing bodies. Mostly, however, they had the opposite effect...

Having a triangular crotch line was going to be my greatest handicapped – it would require me to bleed-out my own flesh every single month for the next forty years. (This wasn’t very clear, though, since I wrongly assumed that we would never stop bleeding once we started; this error was corrected in the 6th grade sex-tapes we watched a year later.)

I looked to see if my peers were equally as horrified as I was. It seemed this double X-chromosome was actually a double-edged sword. It’s superpowers would allow us to conceive, carry, and birth the next generation; it put the future of the human race in our hands...but there was a price to pay for such power...

(Morgan Freeman’s movie-preview voice here):

The vagina, they were now being told, would turn against them with wicked cramps, night-sweats, and unpredictable pant stains. It would bring on mood swings, tears, and prevent participation in water sports. Fifth grade sex-ed videos of the 90’s, although well intentioned, were a warning…a warning of the inevitable apocalypse, terrorizing all young girls’ into relinquishing their dreams of real happiness, joy, and freedom.

(Voice ends, thanks Morgan.)

Our vaginas, until this moment, had been invisible. And “being a girl” was absolutely meaningless – we were liberated, asexual, androgynous little-humans. The childhood vagina, in fact, wasn’t really an organ as much as it was a not-organ…a not-penis. Not having a penis, we naively believed, was an athletic asset – great for riding bikes and fearlessly taking karate kicks to the crotch. But after this P.E. class, we learned the truth.

Welcome to womanhood, Bitches.