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from (the Puerto Rican) Irene Vilar's "Impossible Motherhood: Testimony of an Abortion Addict" (p. 15):

I busied myself fetching land crabs and memorizing songs I would sing to my father at bedtime. I sorted the laundry for him when he washed our clothes and held the bottle of starch while he ironed my school uniforms. I sat in the hallway and sobbed when he cleaned the diarrhea-soiled path from my bedroom to the bathroom, all while telling me I was his baby girl and humming his favorite song about an old horse that can outrun his young. I had chronic diarrhea until I got my period at eleven. I remember because I sprang to the toilet after messing the bathroom floor at boarding school to find my underwear soiled red. I don't recall any more accidents after that.

This came right after the previously-quoted paragraph about how her obsessive desire for constant action.