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Menstruation

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Der Ursprung der Welt & Der Ursprung der Liebe by Liv Strömquist

Wie du erfolgreich wirst, ohne die Gefühle von Männern zu ver... by Sarah Cooper

Ebbe & Blut. Alles über die Gezeiten des weiblichen Zyklus by Luisa Stömer

Menstruation und Periode

4 books — 1 voter

Between a Rock and a Hot Place by Tracey Jackson

What Fresh Hell Is This? by Heather Corinna

Perimenopause and menopause

49 books — 21 voters

Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret by Judy Blume

Menstruation

147 books — 42 voters

Grow Up, Tahlia Wilkins! by Karina Evans

Revenge of the Red Club by Kim Harrington

Space Station Seventh Grade by Jerry Spinelli

Puberty Novels for Middle Grade

84 books — 10 voters

Women Who Run With the Wolves by Clarissa Pinkola Estés

Mary Magdalene Revealed by Meggan Watterson

The Fifth Vital Sign by Lisa Hendrickson-Jack

Here Sister, Let Me Help You Up by Stephanie Chinn

Womens Wellness and Body Positivity

26 books — 12 voters

Taking Charge of Your Fertility by Toni Weschler

Sweetening the Pill by Holly Grigg-Spall

FemmeHead Book Recomendations

13 books — 4 voters

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It’s Literally Summer! 93 Topical Titles for Your Seasonal Reading List.

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“ There is a bench in the back of my garden shaded by Virginia creeper, climbing roses, and a white pine where I sit early in the morning and watch the action. Light blue bells of a dwarf campanula drift over the rock garden just before my eyes. Behind it, a three-foot stand of aconite is flowering now, each dark blue cowl-like corolla bowed for worship or intrigue: thus its common name, monkshood. Next to the aconite, black madonna lilies with their seductive Easter scent are just coming into blo There is a bench in the back of my garden shaded by Virginia creeper, climbing roses, and a white pine where I sit early in the morning and watch the action. Light blue bells of a dwarf campanula drift over the rock garden just before my eyes. Behind it, a three-foot stand of aconite is flowering now, each dark blue cowl-like corolla bowed for worship or intrigue: thus its common name, monkshood. Next to the aconite, black madonna lilies with their seductive Easter scent are just coming into bloom. At the back of the garden, a hollow log, used in its glory days for a base to split kindling, now spills white cascade petunias and lobelia. I can't get enough of watching the bees and trying to imagine how they experience the abundance of, say, a blue campanula blosssom, the dizzy light pulsing, every fiber of being immersed in the flower. ... Last night, after a day in the garden, I asked Robin to explain (again) photosynthesis to me. I can't take in this business of _eating light_ and turning it into stem and thorn and flower... I would not call this meditation, sitting in the back garden. Maybe I would call it eating light. Mystical traditions recognize two kinds of practice: _apophatic mysticism_, which is the dark surrender of Zen, the Via Negativa of John of the Cross, and _kataphatic mysticism_, less well defined: an openhearted surrender to the beauty of creation. Maybe Francis of Assissi was, on the whole, a kataphatic mystic, as was Thérèse of Lisieux in her exuberant momemnts: but the fact is, kataphatic mysticism has low status in religious circles. Francis and Thérèse were made, really made, any mother superior will let you know, in the dark nights of their lives: no more of this throwing off your clothes and singing songs and babbling about the shelter of God's arms. When I was twelve and had my first menstrual period, my grandmother took me aside and said, 'Now your childhood is over. You will never really be happy again.' That is pretty much how some spiritual directors treat the transition from kataphatic to apophatic mysticism. But, I'm sorry, I'm going to sit here every day the sun shines and eat this light. Hung in the bell of desire. ...more ”
― Mary Rose O'Reilley, The Barn at the End of the World: The Apprenticeship of a Quaker, Buddhist Shepherd

11 likes

“ I have periods now, like normal girls; I too am among the knowing, I too can sit out volleyball games and go to the nurse's for aspirin and waddle along the halls with a pad like a flattened rabbit tail wadded between my legs, sopping with liver-colored blood. ...more ”
― Margaret Atwood, Cat's Eye

18 likes

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