The cocks crowed, signifying morning was nigh.
Hope shuddered as she thought of what awaited her.
Her developing breasts throbbed with excruciating pain, worsened hours ago when her mama had pounded them with hot stones.
She’d cried and pled as mama pounded and auntie held her, but it was useless.
They said they were doing it for her, they didn’t want the men to desire her, but Hope felt none of their love.
All she felt was the pain.
And she saw the scars she knew would never leave.
She heard mama’s footsteps. It was time.
This was her daily routine, one that began when she’d clocked nine and the breasts started to show.
She sobbed, wishing herself away from this hidden ritual.
No one could hear her, no one could save her.
Hope may not be real but what she suffered – breast ironing – is. This is the reality for many girls.
Breast ironing is an action carried out to stop the development of breasts. It is carried out by using hot objects like stones, paddles, spatulas, and brooms to m...
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