When Aida Salazar and Yamile Saied Méndez first met in a Facebook group for kid lit writers of color, their commonalities made the friendship feel like serendipity. They were both newly minted Latine authors in a predominantly White market, both mothers who imbued social justice in their parenting and praxis. And they were both fascinated with depictions of menstruation in American literature for young readers.  

“I shared that my debut [novel] was a menstruation story,” Salazar explained in a recent video chat with both authors, referring to her Kirkus-starred title The Moon Within. “[Yamile] said, ‘I wrote my thesis on that!’ That’s how it all began.”

Méndez clarifies that her thesis, written while completing her MFA at Vermont College of Fine Arts, explored representations of biologically female puberty in children’s fiction. Her research indicated that The Moon Within was the first menstruation-centered book published in the U.S. since Judy Blume’s Are You There God? It’s Me, Margaret. came out in 1970. It also suggested that Salazar’s book, which features a Black and Puerto Rican main character, was the only menstruation novel with a non-White protagonist ever published in the United States. Salazar had suspected as much but hadn’t known for sure.

“It made me incredibly sad and angry,” Salazar says, “both that we had to wait generations to have a book that even discusses the topic and that I was the first [American] woman of color to write [a novel] about menstruation. Ever.”

Her desire to address this inadequacy motivated Salazar to write a proposal for what would become the anthology Calling the Moon: 16 Period Stories From BIPOC Authors (Candlewick, March 28), which received a starred Kirkus review. During the pitching process, Salazar asked Méndez to be her co-editor, and Méndez readily agreed, helping to bring together an impressive roster of critically acclaimed writes who are Black, Indigenous, and people of color (BIPOC). Among the contributors: Newbery Award winnerErin Entrada Kelly, Kirkus Prize winner Christina Soontornvat, and National Book Award finalistIbi Zoboi. (Méndez herself is a Pura Belpré Gold Medalist, and Salazar’s debut won the International Latino Book Award.)

Explaining her enthusiasm for the project, Méndez says, “One of the main things that can have a positive effect on a person going through puberty is information. The more we talk about it, the more information young readers have.”

But while there is a plethora of teen-friendly scientific information about menstruation, Méndez says, there remains a lack of emotional information—something short stories are uniquely equipped to provide.

“Stories have the power to show what it means to go through these changes,” she says. “The experience of growing up is not the same from person to person. We wanted the stories to reflect different cultures and different time periods—like how some societies’ views of periods have changed and how some haven’t.”

To this end, the co-editors included stories like Saadia Faruqi’s, in which a young Muslim girl’s first period forces her to postpone her long-awaited first Ramadan fast; Padma Venkatraman’s, in which a group of Hindu friends stage a protest when one of them is banned from religious rites because she’s menstruating; Elise McMullen-Ciotti’s, in which a Cherokee girl draws strength from her grandmother’s traditional tale about period power; and Zoboi’s, in which a New Moon Rebirth ceremony ties a new menstruator to her ancestors.

Another topic the co-editors knew they had to tackle was the array of challenges BIPOC menstruators face in a patriarchal, White supremacist society.

“Girls in our demographic, they’re starting to go through puberty earlier. That’s such a big issue,” Méndez says. Indeed, recent studies show that Black and Latine menstruators tend to get their first periods before their White peers. (Asian American menstruators do not follow this trend, and research about Native American menstruators is almost impossible to find.) “Plus, there is anecdotal evidence that BIPOC girls are sexualized younger and younger. They’re obliged to grow up faster than their [White] counterparts. That’s something that really affects children’s psyches.”

Of course, BIPOC menstruators hold many identities beyond race and ethnicity, some more oppressed than others. For this reason, Salazar says she felt it was vital to include at least one “gender expansive” character in the anthology, which is why she asked Mason J.—who, in their bio, describes themself as “gender creative” and proud of “their biracial, music nerd, Two-Spirit, punk and writer identities”—to contribute a story with a nonbinary protagonist.

“People who are fighting the good fight for reproductive rights know that it behooves all of us to be inclusive,” Salazar said. “That means we have to understand not only that trans people menstruate and people of other genders menstruate, but also that some women don’t menstruate at all.”

Despite their best efforts, though, Méndez says there were still identities that they were unable to include. Most notably, she says, none of the protagonists in the book are disabled.

“We were sad that we couldn’t include more voices,” Méndez says, “but also, we’re hoping that this anthology will be one of many.”

Salazar agrees, stating that the anthology’s purpose is to “break open a door” to a wider variety of stories—something that feels especially urgent in the current legislative climate. Salazar observes that the Supreme Court’s 2022 decision to strike down Roe v. Wade has had a devastating effect on the reproductive justice movement, most recently spurring a bill banning menstrual education in Florida elementary schools. Additionally, in 2021, there were 117 anti-trans bills introduced in the U.S., a number that CNN called record-breaking, at least until this year: As of this writing, the ACLU is tracking 430 anti–LGBTQIA+ bills in the first three months of 2023 alone.

But just because Calling the Moon breaks silences around menstruation, race, and gender doesn’t necessarily mean it will reach those who need it most. Censorship in the U.S. is at an all-time high: According to the American Library Association, more than 1,200 books were challenged in 2022, which was double the number from 2021. Salazar and Méndez believe that this wave of repression will certainly affect access to Calling the Moon.

“Even if it’s not an official ban, there’ll be soft censoring,” Méndez says, alluding to gatekeepers like teachers and librarians who could keep the book off their shelves. “It’s not if but when.”

Nowadays, the world can feel like one giant trauma trigger, particularly for BIPOC menstruators like the ones featured in this book. For this reason, Méndez says, it was important that the anthology retain a sheen of optimism and promise. Consequently, every protagonist in the book experiences a happy ending, something the co-editors hope both BIPOC and non-BIPOC readers notice.

“Literature is a sanctuary,” Salazar says. “When we can see one another and learn empathy through the sanctuary of literature, I think we’re giving the world an incredible gift.”

“Our children deserve to see joy on the page,” Méndez adds. “They need to know that, yes, things can be difficult, but that we can also break through patterns of patriarchy and misogyny and lead happy lives. To show that there is hope: That, in itself, is a rebellion.”

Mathangi Subramanian’s novel A People’s History of Heaven was a finalist for the Lambda Literary Award.