I believe we have to become less squeamish. I believe we need to enjoy our sexuality, not in some macho “lookit how sexy I am”, notches-on-the-bedpost way, but a simple, contented, strong and confident resting in our femalehood. I believe we should take satisfaction in our bodies, no matter what their size, shape and idiosyncracies — all of our bodies, including the shadowed bits “down there”.

I’ve written before about my preference for the word ‘vulva’ over ‘vagina’ as the all-purpose label for female genitalia. I regret that it is used so rarely, and with such reluctance. I would like to see it become mainstream, become the term nice mommies teach their daughters. It’s less clinical and specific than ‘vagina’, less aggressive than ‘cunt’, more accurate than all manner of colloquialisms. An rich word, a gentle word, a womanly word.

With those ideas as my mental backdrop, I am in complete support of those who aim to popularize the term, to increase comfort and decrease shame. One such site ran “Vulva Liberation Week” for a couple of years. Now, I’m not entirely sure I need my vulva to be “liberated”, frankly. I rather like its current status: my private property, to be disposed as I see fit. (Which attitude probably suggests that my vulva is, indeed, liberated.) Regardless of semantics, I appreciate and support the concept behind the slogan.

And to this end of increasing comfort and decreasing shame, one site has provided a pattern with which a woman can make a soft and cuddly model of the vulva, a “lucky vulva change purse”, complete with little bead (or bell) for clitoris.

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One might wonder how stuffing one’s vulva with coins and lip balm, and then sealing it shut with a zipper, liberates it. One might. But beyond that, another more cogent concern springs to mind.

luckyvulva2.jpg

Let us step back a bit and consider this with some degree of ideological objectivity, shall we? Let us imagine a man doing the same. Let’s say he made himself a stiff and manly leather replica of his penis in which to carry his … screwdrivers, with a couple of round compartment in behind for his nuts and bolts. What would we say when he hauled this thing out to tighten the knob on the kitchen cupboard?

Surely we’d mock him. For his obsession, his self-absorption, his male arrogance, and probably, the insecurity that we’d figure drove him to this foolish self-aggrandizement.

And I think we’d be right.

So, as we seek to assert our right to our female-ness? Be strong, be confident, be proud. But don’t be silly.