“Bloody Mary” and Other Things Only Spoken of in the Dark
I try to talk openly about everything that was shrouded in mystery when I was growing up. I try to take the distorted sense of my younger self and change her shape.
This is A Modern Guide to Superstition, a column by Dorothy Bendel on folk belief and ritual in chaotic times.
Tiger Beat
Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, I hate you!
Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, I hate you!
Bloody Mary, Bloody Mary, I hate you!
Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners.
On my thirteenth birthday, only a few years after attempting to summon Bloody Mary at Cheryl’s party, I got my first period. I didn’t want to tell anyone, but I had to ask my grandmother for a pad. I asked her to keep the secret of my period between us, but when I entered the kitchen, where the rest of my family sat around my birthday cake, I could see my father trying to hold back laughter. The secret was out, in ten minutes flat.
I try to talk openly with my kids about everything that was shrouded in mystery when I was growing up. I try to take the distorted sense of my younger self, now that I am grown, and change her shape.
Dorothy Bendel's writing has appeared in The Threepenny Review, The Believer, Literary Hub, Catapult, The New York Times, and additional publications. Find her at dorothybendel.com or @DorothyBendel.
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