by Nel Franks
I had never thought of it like that before. I had been so consumed by the horror and the disgust, I had focussed only on how terrible and painful it had been. I was silent for a long while, thinking, and I was a bit startled when Mistress Sarrak spoke again.
‘You were very scared at the Winter Ceremony, Rosie. No physical harm came to you, but you experienced very great fear arising from the shock of being grabbed and seeing and feeling the swollen penis pushed against you. Before the Ceremony, did someone cause you to be fearful about what would happen?’
I looked up, still somewhat consumed by the idea of women’s physical capacity for sex.
‘Sorry, what did you ask?’
‘Did someone make you scared about the Ceremony?’
‘Um, no,’ I said, a little unsure of what she meant. And I didn’t want her to probe any further. No going back into the past; I’d certainly known bad things about the Ceremony from very early on. ‘I got terrified during the ceremony.’
‘Yes, you got terrified. It was a reaction, how you felt about the event. It was a response inside you. Is that right?’
‘Yes,’ I said, wondering where she was going with this line of reasoning.
She nodded in agreement or approval; I wasn’t sure which. It made me feel a little like a child doing well in class, but it was somehow also comforting to know I was following her correctly.
‘It was a response inside you, a genuine emotional reaction to a situation that you were deeply shocked about. It was your response. You learned, very quickly that night, to be afraid of the act of sex and men.’
I nodded, that described it almost exactly. Except it hadn’t been just that night that I had learned to fear penetration.
‘And you have spent a long time since then, ruminating on it. How long have you felt like this, been thinking about that night?’
I wasn’t going to tell her the truth about that one, so I stuck to last year’s Winter Ceremony. ‘Oh, I think about it nearly all day. I’m so tired of feeling upset and scared. I’m really crabby; I can hear myself being nasty to my friends, but I can’t stop it.’
‘I understand. You had a terrible shock and were very scared, and now you’ve spent nearly a whole year thinking about it and going over it. You have spent a year learning very thoroughly to be scared of sex and men, haven’t you?’
She said it with kindly understanding, and I was so relieved someone finally understood how terrible it had been. My early experience was best avoided.
‘Now,’ she went on, ‘if it is something you learned, you can unlearn it too.’
Learned? I didn’t learn it, it was a natural reaction, she had just said so. I tried to explain.
‘Ah,’ she dipped her head in understanding. ‘Most people feel that way. It does feel like a natural reaction, not something you learned. It’s true there is a natural part—your shock and fear were your natural reactions to the situation. But it’s the thinking you’ve done since then, going over and over it, that is the learning part. You’ve spent all that time thinking about how awful men must be to have a penis that can go inside a woman, and how terrible they must be to want to do that. And you’ve thought a lot about how horrific it would be to be part of the act that you felt such shock and terror about. You’ve spent hours a day for a whole year learning to link your fear and disgust with penises, men and the sexual act. You’ve linked them together in your mind as being inextricable. Do you see how it is a form of learning?’
I must have looked dubious because she went on. ‘Things which are learned, from constant repetition, can be changed. Well-learned things, such as this, may take much unlearning, and they need to be replaced with more correct information, but it can be done.’
I said it still didn’t feel like something I had learned, in the same way as in the Children’s Rooms.
‘Alright,’ she went on. ‘Let’s think about how you have unlearned something and learned a different new skill in its place. For instance, do you still write the way you used to in the Infants Learning Rooms?’
My head felt fuzzy from the way she jumped about the topics. What had handwriting to do with sex? But I tried to follow along.
‘No. When I first learned we used printing, and I was very bad at it at first. But I write cursive very well now; I’m often congratulated on my fine pen work.’
Sister Sarrak smiled widely. ‘I’m sure you are Rosie; you are a very neat person. You unlearned the awkward infant’s way of writing, and you learned a new graceful way of writing. Perhaps you could do the same about sex and men?’ She leaned back in her chair, looking at me neutrally.
I couldn’t think of anything to say, but I was consumed by these new ideas.
‘Winter Ceremony is only two days away, Rosie. What will you do to manage yourself during the ceremony? Because without a plan, I’m sure it will be difficult.’
‘That’s actually why I came today, Mistress. Can you give me sick leave not to attend the ceremony?’
She gazed at me thoughtfully for a while.
‘It is unfortunate timing, that you have become ready to face these uncomfortable thoughts just when Winter Ceremony is coming again. I’m not sure that you will have enough time to learn to cope by yourself.’
She paused again, steepling her fingers in front of her mouth.
‘But I’m not allowed to give you sick leave to miss the ceremony, Rosie.’
I sighed, feeling defeated and angry again.
‘But I can help you to cope. For the next two days, let’s work on a number of ways to help you get through the Ceremony. Afterwards, we can meet again if you want to, to see how it went and to continue your new learning about men and sex. How does that sound?’
I hadn’t got what I wanted, but I did feel different. I was also exhausted. Mistress Counsellor said it was because I had been working hard, dealing with uncomfortable and frightening thoughts. She was right, I knew; I had felt tired for the last year, always having the fear with me. And now I had to go to Winter Ceremony with only a few days to prepare.
Transition to Year Three
Rosie, Spring, Year Three, Initiates
I CERTAINLY DIDN'T enjoy Winter Ceremony, but I did get through it. I used all the strategies Mistress Sarrak had suggested. I meditated for long periods in the two days before the ceremony and drank the calming tea she gave me. I stayed at the very back of the crowd in the Temple, and tried to keep my eyes closed, just listening to the drums beating. But I kept imagining scenes from last year's ceremony, and that upset me, so after a while I found it was better to just look at the backs of the girls in front of me.
The drums were hypnotic, and the aromatic smoke was intoxicating. I wrapped my arms around myself and wished I had the support of Gaia and Tomma. But we were still not speaking, so I had to rely on myself. Mistress Sarrak would be very pleased with me when I told her.
I found myself swaying with the girls around me. There wasn't as much screaming this year, and as the smoke thickened, I could barely see. I stepped behind one of the outer pillars near the walls and tried to stay there. The chanting became louder and more urgent. Everyone around me was getting restless, starting to surge forward. I could hear panting and cries of excitement as the young Stag chased the running Hinds through the pillars and the smoke. I saw a glimpse of his shoulders, bare and sweaty, but it was so brief I wasn't scared. Then there was a triumphant yell and the girls around me all squealed and began to push towards the altar. I was carried with them and found myself trying to peer through the crowd. I could see the head and shoulders of the young man on the altar as he rose above the girl, but I didn't watch as he pushed himself into her. I drew back a little, closing my eyes again. But I could hear the girl as she cried out, encouraging the young man to give up his seed. I peered through the crowd and saw her arm as she caressed his back. She wouldn't do that if she was in pain, I thought.
Mistress Sarrak would have been very proud of me.
After it was all over, we beg
an to move out of the Temple, and Gaia and Tomma appeared out of the crowd. Tomma was flushed and smiling, and as usual Gaia was calm. Somehow, even though I knew I still hated them, we stayed together as everyone streamed out, and without talking we made our way to one of the tables serving hot tea. Everyone else was excited, gabbling about the Ceremony, but Gaia just stood quietly, observing the crowd and sipping her tea. It appeared safer to stay with them than to try to find anyone else.
It seemed inevitable that we would walk back to the Acolytes Hall together. We didn’t talk most of the way. Tomma started to say something, and then stopped; I think Gaia gave her one of her looks. As we arrived at the steps, Gaia turned to me, and seemed about to say something. I tried to turn away, but she caught and squeezed my hand. She had a gentle smile on her face. How does she always know the best way to approach me?
‘Your bed is still empty in our room, Rosie. And we’ll keep it for you, until you’re ready to come back.’
I couldn’t say anything, suddenly struck with a painful lump in my throat. I did so want to be somewhere with friends, but I couldn’t... I wouldn’t go crawling back to them now. I nodded and turned away to my new single room.
A FEW WEEKS LATER IT was time for our transition to year three of Initiate Acolytes. Like last year, it was quite a humble ceremony, although some of the younger tutors told us the transition to Novices next year would be more impressive. We sat in the Small Reverencing Hall, sewing on our third band and our intial rotation ribbon. I had been placed in the Healers, with the Birthers. I hated the blood red colour of the Healers’ band. I was having trouble sewing on it on, and then trying to attach the slippery pale pink ribbon of the Birthers; the thread kept breaking whenever I pulled it. At one time I would have been delighted to be in Birthers, to be working with new babies, but now it seemed a little too close to the disgusting way in which conception occurred. The tutor watched the thread break again and suggested I shouldn’t pull it so tight. But I didn’t seem able to loosen my grip.
Tomma was in my group as she had also been assigned to the Healers and had a red band, but her ribbon was white, for the First Aiders. She seemed happy enough, chatting with the tutor as she sewed. The tutor was saying there were many roles within the Healers, and although we each had been assigned to a particular area, we would have the chance to briefly try others. Tomma hogged all the attention, as usual, by talking about her interest in growing the plants that gave healers their pharmacopeia. The tutor talked about how the Apothecaries developed the drugs from the plants that Agriculture grew for them. I was surprised how much Tomma knew, but I wouldn’t tell her how impressed I was.
I was so nervous on my first day at the House of Healing. But Mistress Noola, who took us on a tour, was very nice. She showed us the library in which I was expected to study the care of pregnant women, newborn babies, and the process of giving birth. My first duties were to assist the Mistress Birthers who examined women who were pregnant.
‘Most of our pregnant women are at the same stage, of course, given that they get pregnant at Summer Festival,’ she smiled.
‘Does that mean they all give birth on the same day?’
That was from Ivettta, the other girl who had been assigned to the Birthers. I had never considered that most of our cohort would have the same day of birth.
‘No, not quite. We do have a rush about the same time, over the space of the next few weeks. The women who got pregnant at last year’s Summer Festival are due to give birth soon. But every woman’s body is slightly different, and every baby has its own timing. Some come early, and first babies especially tend to come a bit late. And of course, there are the women who Serve in the Temple; they can be pregnant at any time of year. But it does get very busy around here in spring. You probably won’t be invited to observe births just yet.’ She gave a wry smile, acknowledging our obvious trepidation.
I spent several hours over many days in the library looking at detailed drawings and paintings of women giving birth. It both horrified and fascinated me. The women had such pained expressions, and I was embarrassed to be looking at their private parts. Tomma found me in the library one day, and when I hurriedly shut the book, asked what I was looking at.
‘Oh, just some study for the Birthers.’
‘Come on Rosie, show me. The library books are for everyone, aren’t they? You can’t keep it to yourself.’
‘I’m not trying to keep it to myself,’ I returned, irritated. I didn’t want to admit my embarrassment or fascination. ‘It’s just that these pictures are quite...detailed.’ I ended weakly.
‘Oooh, I know what you mean,’ she said, sitting down beside me. ‘I had to study some techniques for sewing up wounds, what do they call it? ... suturing. They were really gory. I don’t know if I will be able to do that. What did you have to study?’
‘Ah, I was looking at some pictures of giving birth.’
Tomma’s eyes went very round. ‘Oooh, can I see? I’ve never seen human birth. I have seen the animals, when I was in Agriculture in our first year. But it’s not the same, is it?’
Reluctantly I opened the book again. She bent over the picture and stared closely at the details of a breech birth.
‘We had a cow that gave birth like this. The feet were sticking out for ages, and the Mistress Vet had to put her arm up inside the cow and try to turn the calf’s head so it could come out. The poor cow was panting and bellowing and straining for ages. Do you think that happens with people too?’
‘Oh Goddess, Tomma! I don’t know! I hope not. I can’t imagine there being enough room for anyone to put their hand up there, can you?’ I gestured towards the paintings. ‘There’s not much room to spare by the look of it. And the idea of anyone putting their hand inside someone ... well, that’s really gross.’
She grinned at me, just like her old self. ‘It is disgusting, isn’t it!’ She pulled a face and laughed. She was so funny I couldn’t help smiling.
‘Really gross.’
Somehow, laughing made it less disgusting. And it seemed to unfreeze our friendship.
‘Are you free at lunch time? I’d love to have lunch together like we used to. I’ve missed you, Rosie,’ she said in her usual direct way.
I felt really uncomfortable, thinking about the horrible things I’d said to her when I left the Hall.
‘Are you sure? I was ... not nice to you the last time we talked.’
It was as close to an apology as I could manage.
‘Oh, Rosie,’ she said, squeezing my arm, ‘you know we’ll always be friends. I know you were upset then. You did hurt my feelings, but I’m over it. Can’t we go back?’
We ate lunch together and after a little while it did feel as familiar as if we had never fought. I didn’t ask her about the boy, although I was dying to know. But I found out what Gaia was doing in Agriculture, in Forestry. She was rarely at the Hall. She often travelled with the woodcutting team and camped out in the forest a long way from the Core.
‘Apparently, after she’s learned about cutting and transporting trees, then she’ll move to the sawmill, and learn about slicing and shaping. After that she gets a chance to decide on what type of timber work she’s interested in – construction, or joinery, cabinet making, and there’s another one, she told me...oh, yes, making implements. Did you know, she has to practice making things out of wood and so they have to make wooden spoons and chopping boards for the kitchen. It made me laugh when she told me – Gaia always wants to know where things come from, so now she knows about wooden spoons!’ Tomma leaned back in her seat laughing. ‘I think she’ll like it, she’s good with her hands.’
I nodded, my mouth full of bread and meat.
Tomma burbled on, ‘How are you finding it in the Birthers, Rosie? I was worried for you when I saw the band you were given at Transition. Is it upsetting you?’
I swallowed. ‘So far it’s not too bad. I do like babies, you know that. I am interested in the births. But there’s so much more to it
than I realised. I have to learn about pregnancy and looking after pregnant women, and about caring for newborn babies. I’m going to the nursery in about a month’s time. I’m looking forward to that. Right now, it’s examining the women who got pregnant at Summer Festival.’
‘It’s not bothering you about the actual births?’ she asked.
‘I’m not sure. I thought those pictures were really ... disgusting, but also interesting,’ I managed in a rush. ‘I’m scared about the amount of pain they go through. But I’m also really interested. Having a baby grow inside you seems so ... weird, don’t you think?’
Tomma shook her head. ‘No, seems pretty normal to me. I mean, all the animals do it, or they make eggs. It must be the usual kind of thing to do. The Goddess must have decreed it so,’ she said, poking me lightly in the arm.
I could tolerate being teased about my faith I was pleased to discover. My sense of humour must be returning.
‘But having a new human being growing inside an old one, and then having to push it out; isn’t that strange?’ I tried to convey my mixed sense of wonder and slight horror.
Tomma just grinned. ‘No, it’s the proper way for it to happen. Where else could you grow babies – in a laboratory?’ She laughed at the outrageousness of that idea.
But it got me thinking. The House of Healers did have extensive research laboratories. I wondered if they had ever experimented with trying to create conception there, somehow. I couldn’t begin to imagine how it might happen – how would you get the eggs from the mothers; let alone how could we collect the seed from men?
Alone in my single room that night, I had nightmares again. Grotesquely deformed babies were growing in large glass jars in a dark room, and they kept reaching out to me, sometimes through the glass, trying to grab me. I couldn’t work out if they wanted my help or were trying to drag me into their jars. I felt repulsed, horrified, but unable to break away from their dark pleading faces. I woke up in a sweat, with my sheets tangled around me. I was very lonely. It used to be such a relief to wake up in the room with Gaia and Tomma, and Lenna too, when I had bad dreams. I used to lie there listening to them. Lenna snored, something to do with the malformation of her mouth, and Tomma used to talk in her sleep. It was reassuring to know they were there if I really needed to call them; so comforting that I never did have to wake them.