Or the woman at the checkout stand who had to tell me it was a shame I was having kids at such a young age. My two-year-old brother was with me in line holding on the colored coupons after I'd counted them. I was fourteen and not yet bleeding. (Ednie Kaeh Garrison, "Sitting in the Waiting Room of Adult and Family Services at SE 122nd in Portland, Oregon, with My Sister and My Mother Two Hours Before I Return to School" in This Bridge We Call Home, Anzaldua and Keating, eds.)