In October, I bled for ten days without access to a proper bathroom.
The house we fled to — like most shelters in Gaza — had no privacy. Forty people slept in two rooms. The bathroom had no door, only a torn curtain. I remember waiting for everyone to sleep so I could clean myself with a bottle of water and scraps of cloth. I remember praying I wouldn’t stain the mattress I shared with three cousins. I remember the shame — not of my body, but of being unable to care for…
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News Source: mondoweiss.net

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