I wanted a God who knew the pains of bleeding once a month. I wanted that God. I wanted her to speak in my language. I wanted that God. I couldn’t stand giving my God the same pronoun as the ones whose smell i was trying to wash away. I wanted a God who screamed for me to live. An emotional God. I wanted this God and i wrote “her” as often as i could. The thought of any other pronoun almost suffocated me. I couldn’t even stand it. I wanted a God as woman as me with my sins as painful as hers.