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I’ve been in Irfut my entire life, born and raised, and I’m still treated like a stranger—still stared and pointed at, still excluded.
We recite it whenever we enter a temple—a constant reminder that women were created to be helpmeets to men, subservient to their desires and commands.
No matter how quiet I am, how inoffensive I remain, my brown skin will always mark me as a Southerner, a member of the hated tribes that long ago conquered the North and forced it to join the One Kingdom, now known as Otera. Only the Ritual of Purity can ensure my place.
Girls aren’t allowed to be near sharp things from the moment they turn fifteen until the day after they’re proven by the Ritual of Purity. The Infinite Wisdoms forbid it, ensuring that we do not bleed a drop before the Ritual.
we’re the descendants of the Gilded Ones.”
Rights are the domain of men and boys—not women, and certainly not alaki.
Keita is just like all the rest, giving us impossibilities and calling them choices.
Elder Durkas always told us that’s because they’re trying to show us how to live happy, righteous lives. What if they were meant to cage us instead?
“The way I see it, we all have a choice right now. Are we girls, or are we demons? Are we going to die, or are we going to survive?”
The physical body—it heals. The scars fade. But the memories are forever. Even when you forget, they remain inside, taunting you, resurfacing when you least expect.”
Never forget: the same gift they praise you for now, they will kill you for later.”
My anger builds as I realize how thoroughly my mind has been poisoned that I would be shocked to see women in these positions.
The breath I didn’t know I was holding in rushes out of me.
