The Day that I Became a Young Lady

I expected others to notice the seemingly drastic change in my appearance as I marched onto the church grounds on that faithful Sunday afternoon with my family, my head held high. Mummy had just bought me a brand new yellow blouse and a pair of khaki Bermuda shorts. These items of clothing, coupled with my brand new white Nike tennis shoes, made me feel like the most confident ten year old in the congregation. My crinkly, chestnut brown hair had been flat ironed and curled the day before, and I walked through the parking lot swinging my mid-back length ponytail from side to side. While the church folk would have been pleasantly surprised to see me in these casual clothes, and with this ‘new do’, I hoped that they would notice the new training bra that I had the pleasure of wearing for the first time to this lovely church fun day.

Two separate events led to the purchasing of this emblem of womanhood. Two Sundays before the church fun day, I began to feel sharp pains and an uncomfortable tenderness around my chest while at the beach with my family. When it drove me to the point of mild sobbing, we left the beach and drove straight to our house. Mummy took me to her bathroom and locked the door so that neither Daddy nor Big Brother could intrude. She examined my chest thoroughly, gently applying pressure to my skin, and after seeing the agitated expressions on my face, she concluded that my breasts were coming in and in the near future, I would need to start wearing bras to protect this area because of its sensitivity. This new discovery had coincidentally happened six days before my fifth grade “puberty retreat”, a retreat in which the entire fifth grade class was split into two groups according to the gender binary, and each group was educated on their changing bodies and the supposed beauty of entering the era of adolescence. This retreat prompted me to ask Mummy and Daddy to explain the process of both menstruation and how babies were made, which forced them to have a hesitant, PG version of ‘the talk’ with me.

That weekend, Mummy took me to the store to buy my first bra. After trying on a few with the help of Mummy and a store attendant, I settled on a black push-up training bra with wiring from the brand MAIDENFORM. I chose not to wear it to school because the layering of my undershirt, school shirt, plaid jumper, vest and tie had made my budding breasts unrecognisable, but this day was special. I wanted to wear it. I had to. It was the church fun day for God’s sake! The bra felt somewhat suffocating and the wiring irritated my sensitive skin, but I decided to endure the pain with a smile, for I had entered my era of adolescence. I was no longer a mere child. I was a woman! I felt as though I deserved to be treated with the respect that was given to the older women in my church, and my graceful, confident walk emulated this sentiment.

The sweltering Bahamian heat drained the energy of the adults, but simultaneously fueled the restless spirits of the children, so much so that the adults made several ‘activity stations’ where we could enjoy different kinds of fun in an organised rotation and in smaller groups. Well, the others were children. I considered myself to be a woman. While Mummy and Daddy helped to serve food to the attendees, and Big Brother went to play basketball in the parking lot with the older boys, I, along with my first cousin, lined up to take part in the first activity station; the bounce house.

First Cousin and I were virtually inseparable. She was one year and one day younger than I, and we had very similar features, which encouraged both my parents and her parents to jokingly call us twin sisters. However, there were major differences in our personalities that were easy to identify. We were both quiet, but I was the more sociable cousin. First Cousin was shy and awkward, and found herself clinging to the corner of a room instead of mixing with others. Additionally, although I was only one year and one day older than her, I was a woman, and she was still a little girl.

We entered the bounce house and began to mix and mingle with other girls that were there as well. Even though First Cousin clung to my arm for the majority of this activity, we managed to thoroughly enjoy ourselves for about twenty minutes. Shortly after the twenty minutes of blissful fun, the bounce house was infiltrated by a group of boys. We were not sure who they were or where they came from, but I surmised that they were children from the community that my church was established in. They dominated the entire space and began to roughhouse with the girls. Some girls decided to leave the bounce house and go to a different station, but First Cousin and I, along with a few others, retreated to one of the four corners. It was clear the ones who stayed were fearful of being injured by one of the boys, but were also determined to exercise their right to be in the bounce house.

While the boys continued to engage in rough play with each other and with a few of the girls who were brave enough to take on the challenge, I began to observe them. They were a unit of four and they had a leader. The leader looked to be slightly older than First Cousin and I, but not as old as Big Brother, who was thirteen years old. He was significantly louder than the other boys, and he was also much more aggressive. I watched him closely as he led; telling his minions where to go, what to do, hitting them if they didn’t follow his instructions. He was a tyrant. It was plain to see. I lost focus as First Cousin tried to engage me in a hand game of “Mama! Mama! Can’t You See?”, and because I was so engrossed in the game, I was unable to tell that the boys’ leader was standing right behind me. He tapped my shoulder and I repositioned myself to face him.

“Whatcha name is?” he asked rudely. He didn’t even bother to say hello.

I decided to remain silent.

“Aye? Whatcha name is?” he asked again, more persistent than the first time.

Silence.

He realised that questioning me was pointless and decided to ask First Cousin instead. I hoped that she would have stayed silent as well, but a part of me knew that she wouldn’t because she wasn’t thinking what I was thinking.

”What her name is?” he asked frankly.

“Oh… it’s Ashley.” she softly replied.

Damn you, First Cousin.

“Whatcha name is?” he asked her.

“Jade.”

A sinister smile began to take form on his face. He looked at me with an intensity that I had never experienced before, one that made me confused and uncomfortable. He then turned to the other boys and began to mock us for our whitewashed names

“Hey guys! They name Jade and Ashley! Jade and Ashley!” he said with an exaggerated, white Californian accent.

He swayed side to side as he repeated our names over and over again. His friends decided to take part in the mocking, and soon enough, there was a quartet singing “Jade and Ashley”. I was not amused, but the boys persisted in the pointless charade. I decided that I had had enough and I invited First Cousin to exit the bounce house with me. As we exited and walked to the next activity station, I noticed that the boys exited as well. They were following us from a distance.

The next activity station was a movie that the adults had set up in the church hall for all of the children to watch. The bounce house was conveniently positioned about twenty feet from the church hall, so we didn’t have to walk too far away. There was a large projection of the Dreamworks animated film, “The Prince of Egypt”, playing on an even larger screen. My excitement faded when I saw the opening scene of the film appear on the screen. I had seen the film dozens, if not hundreds of times. My family even had the film on DVD at home, but I settled with the fact that it was something to do, and it was an opportunity to escape the unforgiving heat. As we watched the movie, I noticed that the boys had entered the church hall and were searching for something. I got the uneasy feeling that they were searching for First Cousin and I. I tried to ignore them, but they made their way over and sat in the vacant seats that were closest to us. One of the minions sat in the open seat on my left initially, which made me less annoyed, but this did not last long.

“Switch wit’ me, bui.” said the impatient leader as he punched his minion in the arm.

The boys quickly switched and before I had time to adjust to this sudden change, the leader had already begun to pester me. He poked my arm and I turned my head slowly toward him.

“How old you is?” he whispered.

His breath smelled like rotting fruit and the vegetarian hotdogs being served outside. I ignored the question and continued to watch the film. He poked my arm again and I positioned myself to face First Cousin, who was sitting on my right, as a sign that I did not want to be touched.

“Let’s get out of here.” I whispered to First Cousin, signalling her to follow me back to the bounce house.

As we got up to exit the church hall, the unit of boys stood up as well. They were following us blatantly this time. It became clear that the bounce house was no longer a safe location for us. I had to think quickly about where First Cousin and I would go next so that we could avoid any other interactions with the boys. I quickly realised that the safest place to go was the parking lot because Mummy and Daddy were there, and the boys wouldn’t think to do anything to us in front of adults, especially Daddy. I quickly took First Cousin’s hand and abruptly changed the direction of our course. The boys began to hesitate as we walked in the direction of the parking lot and decided to loiter around the steps of the church hall. At that moment, I finally felt safe and free.

The parking lot was the central hub of the fun day. The majority of the activity stations were placed in different sections of the lot, each with a healthy amount of people participating. In the southwest corner of the lot, a group of children, much younger than First Cousin and I, were engaging in a supervised water balloon fight. In the northwest corner, other young girls played jump rope and hopscotch, their voices screeching to the high heavens. In the northeast corner, the old geezers of the congregation yelled and argued while slamming dominoes, and in the southeast corner, three food tents stood, each with different items being served. Under the tent that was positioned closest to the east, Daddy, along with two other church members, were serving vegetarian hotdogs and corn fritters. Mummy and another church member were serving vegetarian scallop salads and beverages in the tent next to Daddy’s. The final tent had an unmanned fruit and pastry table, as well as several chairs and tables that were set up for the members to sit and eat, and in the centre of the entire lot was the informal basketball tournament. Boys and men, young and old, scrambled from one side of the court to the other, attempting to score points for their respective teams, hurdling the church’s communal basketball at the old, rickety hoops on each side.

First Cousin and I approached Daddy’s tent and asked him for hotdogs. After receiving them and dressing them with various condiments, we floated over to Mummy’s tent to ask for two bottles of cold water,

“Sorry, baby. I don’t have any bottles of water left.” Mummy said sympathetically.

“She ran out. Where can I get more water from?” I asked desperately.

“You’re probably going to have to get some from the cooler in the church hall.”

The church hall. The godforsaken church hall. I froze as she continued to speak. This would mean that I would have to pass the boys to get into and out of the hall. I considered telling going back to Daddy's tent to tell him about the boys and their meddling; considered telling him about the leader and his menacing looks and his sinister smile and his odorous breath, but refrained from doing so. He had not physically harmed me, and I figured that it would be unfair of me to speak against someone who had done virtually nothing. I was brought back to reality when Mummy gave me a final command.

“Go ahead and go get them. Get some for me and Daddy too.” Mummy said.

I walked away slowly from Mummy’s tent, but noticed that First Cousin was no longer with me. I scanned the immediate area spotted her sitting down, eating her hotdog under the dessert tent. After coming to terms with what I had to do, I approached her with solemn determination.

“I kept your hotdog for you.” she strained. She barely got the words out because her mouth was full of food.

“Thank you, but I still want water. Come with me to the church hall.” I replied monotonously.

Without saying a word, First Cousin took her half eaten hotdog, along with my uneaten hotdog, and instinctively followed behind me.

We approached the church hall and I noticed that the boys were still loitering on the steps. My eyes met with the eyes of the leader and I immediately looked away, hoping that his gaze would not persist any further. Unfortunately, I hoped in vain. I was determined to keep my eyes forward as First Cousin and I walked past the boys, but as we walked, I noticed the leader looking at me out of the corner of my left eye. He was no longer smiling and his eyes did not meet mine this time. He was staring at my pubescent body. He looked at my breasts and buttocks with the intensity that he had exhibited before, and this was attention that I did not expect. I thought that my new bra, my emblem of womanhood, was a symbol of respect, not… this. My skin began to crawl and, in the midst of the crippling heat, I began to shiver. We made it to the water cooler in the church hall’s kitchen and began filling large styrofoam cups with water. I filled three cups with water; one for me, one for Mummy and one for Daddy. First cousin got herself a cup of water and balanced the plate holding her half eaten hotdog on top of the rim so that she had a free hand to carry my hotdog, and we began to make our way back outside. My attention was focused on not spilling the water that was in the styrofoam cups as I walked carefully out of the church hall. My mind did not consider the fact that the boys would still be there, and that the leader would still be watching me. As my eyes focused on the cups, and just when I thought that First Cousin and I had successfully completed our mission without any interference from the boys, I felt a sharp slap on my buttocks, so sharp that I froze in my tracks and some of the water spilled onto my yellow blouse. I was stunned. I slowly turned around and my eyes met the eyes of the leader again. He was standing and smiling sinisterly. I swiftly turned my head, not checking to see if First Cousin was still behind me, and walked speedily to Daddy’s tent to tell him what had happened.

…

After I had explained to Daddy what the group leader had done, he found the boys and made them leave the church yard. I have no idea what he actually said to them, but as they were exiting, the leader did not look at me, but he looked through me. He avoided looking at or touching me at all costs, and so did his minions. They walked out of the church yard silently, and just as mysteriously as they came, they vanished.

Daddy came to me and took my little hands in his. He kissed my forehead softly and looked at me with a smile of fatherly admiration.

“They won’t come back around here anymore.” he said softly.

“Thank you.” I replied.

“Did they do anything to Jade?”

“I don’t know,” I replied. “I don’t think so.”

“Well, if she tells you anything, let me know.” he said.

He began to examine my body, not with a look of intensity, but with a look of inquisition.

“When did you start to grow up so fast?” he asked with a look of genuine concern.

I was confused by his question and was unable to respond.

“You’ve started to wear bras, and I think these clothes are too small for you now.”

“They’re new… Mummy just bought them for me.” I replied.

“You’re growing into a young lady now and you might get attention that you don’t want. Mummy needs to take you out to get bigger clothes.”

I said nothing.

He kissed my forehead again and took me back to our family car. As we walked hand in hand, I thought about what he said. “Attention that you don’t want”. This phrase aggravated me, but I refrained from speaking on the matter any further. I was fixated on this for the entire car ride home, and chose not to speak to the other members of my family. When we got to our house, I went straight into the bathroom. Before I began to undress in order to shower, I took a moment to examine myself in the mirror. I had browned slightly because of the sun and my hair was a frizzy mess. My yellow blouse had a dried water stain across the front. I took off my shirt and began to stare in anger at the bra on my chest. A single, silent tear ran down my face as I looked at it. I ripped the emblem of womanhood off of my body and threw it into the hamper with a vengeance. I never wanted to be a child more.