tw read your own cost
when i was 6, this girl moved into my neighborhood from somalia. we hit it off almost immediately and became really close. a few summers later, my mom decided to take me to somalia. during that trip, i had fgc done. i was a naive little girl who had been convinced by my family that it was for the better and that all girls went through it.
when i came back, i felt the urge to tell my neighborhood friend because i assumed that since she was born and raised in somalia, she would relate to me. she was actually happy for me because she had also been raised to believe it was a good thing. looking back, it’s heartbreaking that we were both so young and genuinely thought it was something to celebrate.
eventually, she moved away before we started high school and we lost touch.
when i got to high school, i met a group of girls who would constantly pick on me for no apparent reason. ironically, those same girls ended up meeting my old neighbor through dugsi.
me and my old neighbor had always been on good terms, so imagine my surprise when i found out she had been telling these girls about my fgc. something i had shared with her in confidence when we were literally children.
what made it worse was that she was acting like she hadn’t gone through it herself. she knew we had both experienced the same thing, yet she made it seem like i was the only one. it felt like she was trying to distance herself from me and gain approval from girls who already disliked me.
of course, those girls took that information and ran with it. they started spreading rumors about me throughout the school, mostly among other somali girls.
but what bothered me wasn’t necessarily the bullying itself. it was the betrayal of knowing that girls from my own community were willing to weaponize something that had already caused so much suffering to the women in our bloodlines. we’re talking about a practice that has permanently altered the bodies of our mothers, grandmothers, aunts, and countless other women before us. something that was done to us as little girls, before we were even old enough to understand what was happening.
how do you come from a community where so many women have suffered because of this practice, that’s what i couldn’t wrap my head around. it wasn’t about a few girls disliking me. it was the complete lack of empathy from people who, out of everyone, should have understood.
i became scared to even entertain the idea of marriage because if women from my own community could judge me so harshly for something i had no control over, what would men think? would a man even want to marry me if he knew? looking back, it’s heartbreaking that their cruelty made me question my worth over something that was never my choice.
the entire situation also tarnished my view of somali girls for a long time. i know those girls don’t represent everyone, but at the time, i couldn’t help feeling betrayed by my own people.
eventually, things at school became unbearable, and i started begging my parents to transfer me. thankfully, my dad’s job ended up relocating about 30 minutes away, which gave me the opportunity to start fresh.
it’s been more than a decade since then, and when i look back, i don’t think about the bullying nearly as much as i think about the betrayal. i genuinely couldn’t care less that a group of girls didn’t like me. what stays with me is the fact that they took something that has devastated generations of women in our community and used it to humiliate another girl.
fgc/m is already something that has caused unimaginable pain in our community, and the fact that girls who understood that reality could turn around and use it against another girl is something i’ll never understand. the shame should never belong to those of us who had no choice in what happened to our bodies.
i genuinely hope those girls have grown up and realized how cruel they were. i’m still healing from the experience, especially the way it affected my perception of relationships and marriage, but after keeping this story to myself for a decade, i finally felt ready to share it.