And Then She Fell

by Alicia Elliott

There was something almost insidious about puberty—the way it slammed shut the door to childhood, never to be reopened, and shoved you face-first into this strange, dangerous place called womanhood.

She’d already resigned herself to the idea that her body was no longer hers: just flesh and bone on extended loan, bound to be collected by some man sooner or later. After that she would be his to own, his to decide what to do with, to sit on some pedestal or throw in some corner to cry.

another Native girl who felt in many ways trapped in the stories people told about her.