It’s January. We are leaving our 1950’s red brick abode, complete with Retro pink
bathrooms, garden, tidal rivers and after school extraordinarily tasty vegan ice creams.
They told me God was an angry old man who would rather have me dead than happy. They told me I needed to count my blessings, but to keep in mind that I didn’t deserve them. They told me to keep my head down, cover up, don’t laugh so loud, let the boys talk.
My name is Pam, I'm from Mexico City and I suffer from Vulvodynia. If you don’t know what it is don’t worry, most people don’t. But, if you want to learn about something that affects 6 million women’s lives in the US alone, you should keep reading.
