Womanhood stood out. I chewed it in my mouth like a piece of cheek. It was mine to puncture. Knowing it would heal over allowed me to be merciless with womanhood. I had to crack it open and investigate the layers. It often manifested itself from other women in the forms of caregiving and tenderness, like Mom cooking arroz con maíz to send me off. But there were ways in which womanhood pinched. It was too tight white stockings on chubby thighs before church and questions about boyfriends I never wanted.
