I am Amazon

Damia

I headed outside during break time, desperate for solitude. I walked for a long time, but wherever I went I seemed to be confronted by the sight of boys – boys and girls hanging out together.

When I found an empty sports field, I sank to the ground, instantly calmed by the silence. I needed time to order my thoughts.

The scenery helped: I stared across the expansive countryside beyond the school grounds. The morning was just misty enough that it was like looking into a heavenly place. I wished I could just run and disappear into it. My blood sang for the nature; the whisper of the breeze among the trees, the feel of the terrain under my bare feet.

My mother had warned me that this school would be different, but she didn’t care to specify just how much. Of course, she wouldn’t know – none of us had ever been to a public school. This was a mixed school, and I found I hated it more than I thought possible.

I felt so uncomfortable – even dressed modestly in a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I felt vulnerable. Maybe it would have been easier if I’d had some steel on me, but my mother had forbidden it.

Instead, I had to endure the sight, smell and sound of boys. There was a constant expectation to remain silent and still as their eyes roamed over me, deciding whether I was pretty enough for their attention.

My entire life had been so filled with female presence that I found it difficult to bear the idea of spending two whole years in a place where men and their whims were so easily accepted.

Still, my mother thought this was a good idea – we needed to know the culture of regular society. I just didn’t expect it to be so strange.

“Seffie,” I turned my head to see Damia heading towards me. I sighed, feeling the last edges of tension leave my body. Finally, I had somebody I could share my troubles with. Damia was as much my sister as Idra and Ennea. Her mother, Cassandra, was my mother’s sister, and we had grown up so close the distinction between cousin and sister had blurred.

Although we were physical opposites, with Damia being far taller and fair haired, we were mirror copies of each other. She’s the only other person in existence who could understand the struggle of coming to a place like this.

“I thought I might find you here,” Damia sat down at my side. Instantly, she took up my position; forearms rested on bent knees, her chin resting on her forearms.

I shrugged impassively, unwilling to show exactly how defenceless I felt. “It’s just a bit much for me… inside.”

She nodded in agreement. Her lip curled slightly: “It’s completely oppressive. I just got out of maths – there was only one other girl in there with me. The boys keep trying to talk to me.” She shuddered.

“I thought I had it bad,” I murmured. “My English teacher made me sit next to one.”

Damia stared at me as though I’d just confessed contracting an STI. After a moment, though, she leaned against me, resting her head on my shoulder. “I don’t understand why Philly thought this was a good idea.”

“She had her reasons,” I answered, instantly defending my mother. “She wants us to understand this culture.”

Damia turned up her nose. “What’s there to understand? Men are glorified – end of.”

I shrugged a shoulder, glancing away. “Maybe.”

Our lifestyle is nothing like the one we witnessed today. There are two rules regarding men in our culture. The first is that no girl under the age of twenty can invite one home. The second is that whatever man enters under our roof stays no more than one night, and should never be seen again.