Coffee Rhetoric: Vagina
Showing posts with label Vagina. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Vagina. Show all posts

June 24, 2010

V is for Victory

 I recently engaged in a discussion about the trials and tribulations of dating and sex with a male acquaintance and I used the word "vagina" to describe a ... vagina. Alarmed, he asked, "Why do you have to call it that??"  
 "Because that's its government name. It's a VAGINA! VAAAGIINAAAA! Say it with me... say vagina!" I prodded and teased. 
"Noo, I can't!" He insisted. 
People's aversion to sounding out the vowels and consonants that make up the word VAGINA has always amused me. Without hesitation; Cookie, vajayjay, vaj, poon, poontang, punany, kitty, kitty cat, carpet, bush, and the 'P' word will spill from the mouths of women and men without incident... without so much as a chuckle. The moment I say vagina aloud however,  hands cup over mouths muffling sheepish chuckles; which incites me to find any excuse to use the word "vagina" in a sentence, because I've often wondered what's at the root of people's discomfort with using the clinical term for a woman's genitalia, during a friendly discussion.
Quick research (read: Google search) showed that the term "vagina" isn't favored by major broadcasting companies, as evidenced by news that three networks rejected a funny Kotex tampon ad - (which actually mocks the sterility of said ads, selling menstrual products) - for using the term. Kotex later re-shot the commercial substituting "vagina" for "down there." Which still didn't placate two out of the three networks. This is interesting, especially when you consider that major TV stations have no compunctions of conscience when the term "Erectile Dysfunction" is used to sell Cialis and Viagra. 
Owning and appreciating the word VAGINA and all it entails discourages the indifference many women (and some men) feel toward what's best for the sensuousness between their legs, because how one feels about her vagina dictates the impact of her sex life, how it's treated, and how she feels about her body overall. 
A recent study of more than 2,000 women found that those who had the most positive image about their vagina (its natural, healthy smell included) had better orgasms and reported stronger sexual energy. Women, (unlike men, who see and touch their penises everyday, several times a day, to relieve themselves in many instances), don't see or even bother to look at the intricate detailing that goes into making the vaginal area function. I'm reminded of the Ace Ventura type reactions I got when during another discussion (amongst other women) about the vagina, I opined how worthwhile and important it is for a woman to hold a mirror and strong light underneath or before her vagina and vulva (the other 'V' word) - to self-examine and make sure nothing's amiss or funky looking; i.e. sores, unsightly warts, discharge, etc. I stood alone that day, as no amount of explaining my petition made the suggestion anymore palatable... so I changed to another course for fodder. 
In answer to the Yahoo! Question: "Why are we so afraid and uncomfortable with saying the V word?" there were a myriad of responses to why "vagina" just wasn't a desirable word to say versus the slang terms for it. One man suggested: "I think it's because vagina has 3 syllables so it sounds like a long word and it's as if you are trying to make it sound wrong even though it isn't. I have no problem saying penis." 
While not particularly sexy sounding in the throes of passion (I get that), generally saying VAGINA several times won't cause one to be sucked into an abyss like the Bermuda Triangle, never to be heard from again or an even worse fate as illustrated in the black-horror flick, Teeth
The latest craze (endorsed by Jennifer Love Hewitt)- in female vanity known as Vajazzling, which is the strategic bedazzling of little Swarovsky-like sparkles on the lower hypogastric region, makes appreciating one's vagina a lot more fun and brings women that much closer to looking at the actual thing while mouthing the word VAGINA out loud. I liken Vajazzling to playing the choo-choo train game with wee ones while feeding them, in order to get them to eat their food. Whatever works. 




November 10, 2007

The Disintegration of Sexy Times

I've always been indifferent toward porn. It has never prompted any deep desire in me, during my precocious pre and late teen years to watch out of curiosity, amid all the salacious buzz. Sneaking a peek at the erotica on Cinemax after 11pm, finding and then reading Jackie Collins's titillating plots, Erica Jong's Fear of Flying, and the illustrated educative wonderment of The Joy of Sex was it for me. I didn't watch hardcore porn until I was in college... with my best friend. We watched out of sheer boredom. We walked down to the town's local video store and picked something from the late seventies/early eighties, much to the cashier's amusement. It featured an interracial raunch fest. Basic man on woman boning. Nothing too shocking or sexy and void of anything particularly depraved and disgusting. The usual cheesy fare, in fact. Neither of us found the antics sexy or arousing. We laughed raucously and critiqued the clownery of it all. Pure comedy. We decided perhaps we were too intellectual and snotty to get it. Other then a porn clip online here and a legitimate art house flick there- (most recently the movie Short Bus, which featured unsimulated sex)- it hasn't interested or enticed me since. Despite the rash of filmed celebrity sexploits being "leaked" online. Over the years... after having watched and read a great deal of "behind the scenes" documentary style films and books, I've came to the conclusion that porn is not erotic, is silly, quite frankly, ridiculous. Most of the pornographic material being released is filmed and produced by men. Men and their distorted visions of how women should look, what ridiculous sexual positions we should be bent in, and how we should act. Despite rumblings to the contrary, I doubt any of the women acting in these films have any actual orgasms. Hair flinging, head whipping, and high pitched 'O' and fuck yeaaah sounds, I'm sorry but the orgasm is fake. All in all, it's harmless fun for the lonely, lecherous, and in some cases... the socially inept. I've never been one of the protesters screaming for the industry to be banned. That being said, a lot has changed with the porn industry. The ever increasing advances in technology, the internet, video cameras, webcams, and the like have made porn more accessible and more achievable for aspiring porn mongers. Any amateur can film their sexual exploits and upload them onto Xtube or Pornotube with relative ease. In turn, the industry has become a virtual free for all. College fraternity houses host parties where group sex and orgies abound, while their peers (men and women spectators) stand off to the side, cheering the guerrilla fuckfests... clutching beers, fists pumping in the air. All in front of the camera and easy to view over the internet. These "gonzo" type films have raised the stakes... and the stakes have become even more disturbing and depraved in their delivery. The acts women subject themselves too is enough to make the most hardened, difficult to offend person cringe. And it takes a lot to make me want to gag and then vomit in my mouth or turn away with disgust. Some of it is downright perplexing. Such as the compelling documentary Sex: The Annabel Chong Story, which documents- Grace Quek's (Annabel is her porn name)- rise, exploitation, and eventual retirement from the porn industry. Annabel allegedly pioneered the whole "gang bang" trend in the industry. Nothing was too graphic or hardcore for Annabel. She performed a diverse array of hardcore sex acts, including "triple penetration." Annabel's motives for starring in The World's Biggest Gangbang were troubling as the documentary delved into her past. Needless to say, this current wave of pornography breeds misogyny and encourages violence toward women. Spat on, slapped, pissed and defecated on, penetrated and fisted in every orifice by several different men at once... It's sickening. And it's distressing. Particularly the gonzo films featuring Black, Brazilian, and Latino women. Men take trips to urban areas (usually scouting in a van of some sort) in search of "Black ghetto sluts" willing to oil up, shake, and then spread their cheeks in a seedy looking hotel room, on film. The perpetuation of sexual stereotypes frustrate the hell out of me. Two steps lower and more debased than the garbage shown in rap videos. And those in and of themselves are bad. I'm open and believe in people having the right to engage in whatever consensual sexual act they desire... but some of this stuff is troubling, notwithstanding my liberal stance. And it's not behind closed door. I think challenging what's wrong with the porn industry as it depicts itself today, does not a prude or anti-sex type make. I do believe there's something wrong with people who don't challenge this sort of behavior, the women who willingly subject themselves to this sort of humiliation, and the men who encourage them to do it or who are sitting at home with their hand down their boxers watching it and then thinking it's okay to go out and mistreat women, outside the realm of that business. In fact, I'll go as far as to say that the behavior in these gritty porn movies- the degradation, the abuse, the spitting, skull f*cking, quadruple penetration, crude talk, choking etc. are anti-sex. Here's a small snippet from Robert Jensen's book, Getting Off:

It hurts to know that no matter who you are as a woman you can be reduced to a thing to be penetrated, and that men will buy movies about that, and that in many of those movies your humiliation will be the central theme. It hurts to know that so much of the pornography that men are buying fuses sexual desire with cruelty.

It hurts women, and men like it, and it hurts just to know that.

Donkey punched, penises rammed down their throats until they puke, heads dunked in toilet bowls while they're being reamed from behind, faces saturated with semen and pee, wanting to jizz on a woman's face... Is this the type of sexual interaction men are craving to have with women?? Do you all secretly fantasize about making some woman vomit, while you force your penis down her throat? If so perhaps I should get my delicates stitched closed and look into becoming a nun.
Read a more substantial excerpt from Jensen's book here.
Also read this Money Shot entry, from October 29 blogged by Girl with a One Track Mind.

October 01, 2007

Where I Converse with Myself

Dear Self,
You drink massive amounts of coffee and water. And you have somewhat of an overactive bladder, particularly during those pre-menstrual days where ten times on the hour, every hour seems pretty typical. Par for the course, especially this past week and then today. You are aware of this, self. So why? WHY did you think it was a wise idea to wear your black, pin-striped high-waisted, nautical pants?? 12-plus buttons to fiddle with. Self, your fingers seem awkward and big, when you're making that mad dash into the loo, to get to the bog pan in time to avoid an embarrassing situation that'd send you home early. Fingers don't seem to want to cooperate and you're tempted to just yank down the flap of your trousers, sacrificing all 12 plus buttons. But you clench those kegels-- along with all the other muscles south of the border tightly, to keep from regressing back to your years as a toddler. Sometimes it just isn't practical for one to enslave her (or his) to fashion.

August 04, 2007

Bearded Lady

I hate body hair. I've been an avid shaver since the age of 12 and use depilatories and creams (provided they're safe, hypoallergenic, and wont skin me alive). I don't get hair on my legs but I shave the imaginary ones I know are there anyway. The only visible hair I acknowledge is the thick, coarse mass on my head. Luckily I'm not a woman who requires electrolysis, monthly bikini waxes, and who needs to shave her chin. I think my complex about body hair developed during my middle-school years.
Whilst taking a pre-pool shower before the required swim class I resented in the most violent of ways- (we had to get suited up and then rinse off, in a communal shower- any body lotions perfuming our persons, before diving in the pool, so as not to get residue in the water)- I happened to look to my immediate left at one of the more popular girls in my class, rinsing off and talking animatedly to her friends while they waited to walk with her to the swimming pool. She wasn't addressing me at all. She didn't even look in my direction but that didn't stop me from looking in hers, to listen to whatever superficial rant she was rambling on about. I hate myself terribly because I also happened to look down. In the Netherlands, I noticed she had a thick, black, coarse Chia Pet growing out the sides of her green one-piece. The beast couldn't be contained, and so it snaked it's way from each side... mocking me. I was horrified. I averted my eyes quickly and scurried to the pool. Needless to say, that experience scarred me. I rushed home right after school, found a men's Bic razor in the medicine cabinet, and shaved my delicates, arm pits, legs, you name it, I shaved it off. I shaved it off and never looked back. I shaved with passion unbridled.
Fortunately I have minimal amounts of body hair and shave the ones that sprout up a couple times a week. As far liking men with massive amounts of body hair and unruly beards, I prefer long, unkempt beards and hairy backs. That being said, I met a good male friend of mine for a drink a few days ago (his treat). My dear friend. Attractive, well dressed, with a keen fashion sense. My friend of the nice light brown skin (a result of Italy intermingling with Africa). I feel confident relaying this story because I know the likelihood of him reading it is... well... not very likely as he's not technologically savvy nor does he have access to the internet and rarely ever web surfs (knocking on wood). My dear, attractive sweet friend. Whom I've known for a spell and who I always suspected was closeted behind thick winter sweaters, coats, button downs, shoes, and summer apparel. Tucked waaaay in the back behind the "in case I run out of laundry" wear. His choice. His demons to slay. I stand behind him regardless. I just would like to see him happy. I'm a huge supporter of his (prospective) brethren. They make my heart dance and sing. I understand why they choose the rainbow as their symbol. I'm a self-described hag and think it's important for people to be themselves and not hide what they can't help being. I keep my mouth shut regarding such matters, because it's not my place to dictate to someone when they should be themselves. Anyway, my dear friend seemed rather flirty and touchy-feely... leaving me flummoxed. He threw me off even further by relaying an erotic dream he had about me. Despite my confusion, I responded the way any mature adult would. ... "EWWWWWWW!!!!! UUUUGHHHHH!!!"
"You weren't saying that in the dream." He said, coyly.
I clasped his hand in one of mine and used my other to pat his, platonically and friendlike and then quickly changed the subject. I turn 30 in a matter of days. Lately, I've been singing the praises of singledom. I enjoy my solitude more and more and appreciate it for what it is. That being said, I'm not dead nor am I desperate. I don't want to live out the rest of my single days playing a beard. It's not a lifestyle I envisioned for myself and it'd make for a pretty inactive and boring sex life, no? That charade would also be murder on my drain pipes and a bitch to sweep up, as it'd grow wilder and more bedraggled... becoming evermore out of control and hard to manage, that not even Nair or Epilady would be able to contain it.

May 25, 2007

Keeping Our Head Above Water...

Yesterday, after I was settled in at home from work, I caught an episode of Good Times on the TV Land network. Florida (matriarch of the Evans clan) came home, excited and breathless... ready to share with her family that she had just enrolled herself back in school, in hopes of obtaining her GED. Before she could relay the good news to her family, father James [Evans] interrupted, chastising her for not listening to HIS good news first. He had been hired for a better paying job with a construction company as a foreman, and the opportunity would possibly allow him to move up. Excited, Florida heaped praise upon her husband, before telling her family that she was back in school, and may finally have the opportunity to get her diploma after having dropped out in the 10th grade. Thelma, J.J., and Michael were ecstactic and hugged their mother. James (who dropped out of school in the 6th grade) on the other hand wasn't thrilled and a dark look came across his face. Suddenly he became discouraging and somewhat insulting... commenting, "Everybody knows that you can't teach an old dog new tricks!" He suggested that best friend, neighbor, and modern woman (for the time) Willona was the one, undoubtedly, putting such nonsense, as going back to school, into Florida's head. James also demanded to know what she planned on fixing for dinner. Willona proudly told James that she had finished school, got her diploma, and that it afforded her the opportunity to work at a clothing boutique. Florida challenged James (with Willona's encouragment) that if he tried to stop her from achieving her goal, he was gonna be faced with "One hell of a fight!" from her and suggested that she wouldn't be able to improve the quality of her (or the family's) life if she didn't see her education through to fruition. It was an intense episode. Due to my getting up to get a glass of vino and some Ramen, I missed the end. Good Times was filmed during the mid 70's, which wasn't that long ago. That particular episode, where James discourages Florida's desire to improve herself by turning into a chauvinist extraordinaire... brow beating and insulting his wife's desire to excel, prompted me to think about how difficult women... black women (as well as other women of color) in particular, had it during that time (and how difficult it still can be for us). I'm reminded of the whole concept behind (and need for) the womanist movement, encouraged by author Alice Walker and adapted from her book: In Search of Our Mother's Garden: Womanist Prose. The concept of womanism came to be, because women of color were left out of the mix during the feminist movement... which dealt largely with issues pertaining to white, middle-class women; and focused predominantly on suffrage and sexism. Racism and classism were not issues they related to or felt compelled to fight against. Womanism paints a portrait from the perspective of black women. When discussing issues of race or classism, the focus tends to be about the oppression of black men. Sexism tends to chart the plight and suppression of white women and how they overcame their struggles. It's rare to find literature that deals specifically with the oppression, suppression, and plight of black women, specifically. There are Harriet Tubman and Sojourner Truth, but how many other black women have traveled tumultuous roads, paving the way and fighting for civil rights and liberties for women of color? We grapple with sexism, classism, and racism. Throw sexual stereotypes based on ethnicity into that equation, thanks to the rump shaking featured in rap videos and the media's portrayal of us, and you begin to understand WHY the Don Imus incident caused such an uproar, after he described the Rutgers University women's basketball team as being "nappy headed ho's." Many people seemed flummoxed about the furor that statement incited. Some martyrized him, saying that his constitutional right to free speech was being infringed upon... which is true, but so is our right to freely be WHO and WHAT we are, without having to continously apologize or go through this multi-step assimilation process, because people aren't happy with how we look. It's maddening, and I'm sick to death of it. Snoop Dog weighed in on the Imus controversy, by justifying his (and other rappers') use of the term "ho's", after the rap community came under fire (or were scape-goated) for desensitizing the masses to the use of the word ho'. Snoop suggested that it was okay for rappers to disrespect certain types of women by calling them the ugly name, because they're referring to the ho's living in the projects, not "a successful basketball team." That didn't really do much to help our cause, now did it? It's a neverending battle, particuarly when you consider that we already have 3 strikes against us. I think of some of my own personal struggles, particularly since I wear my hair natural, I carry around an ample rear end, and I constantly have to defend the reasons WHY I don't act like [insert stereotype here], WHY black women aren't one- dimensional, and WHY I'm not going drop my shit like it's hot for some ignoramus who has OD'ed on videos shown on BET... or WHY I want you to kiss my ample rear, when you pigeonhole me and women of color or chastise me for my blackness. I will gladly continue to fight the good fight and refer to myself as a 21st century womanist.

May 24, 2007

Divination and Penis Power

Today my horoscope read:
"I will tell you a great secret," wrote Albert Camus (French Philosopher). "Do not wait for the last judgment. It takes place everyday." Author and activist John W. Gardner spoke of the same issue from a different angle. "To sensible people, everday is a day of reckoning." I offer up those words for your guidance in the coming days, Leo. May they inspire you to be fierce and willful, exuberantly unstoppable an wildly resourceful. May they remind you that even though there might be a world of pressure on you, that pressure is natural, merciful, and exactly what you need."
My tarot card read: You've reached a plateau. Or it may feel like it. This place which had been exciting only a little while ago is now somewhat dreary. And you feel ungrateful, but don't. It's only natural; the climb is over, you are simply keeping pace, staying even, and yes, you "thought" you wanted a rest, but now you are looking for some variety, something new.. excitement perhaps, or just the simple joy of bringing attention to yourself. Maybe, you want to catch up with that interesting crowd, but those potential peers seem too far ahead- ' when will they rest ' you wonder... Circumstances are making the road so long; you'll need to find cleaver ways to occupy yourself while staying moving. It is surprising just how quickly we grow to crave new challenges, isn't it? You don't have to know or trust the reasons you feel restless. The cards say ' break into a sprint', what you want is up there, hurry up, don't think.
Interesting. Anyway... here's yet another video touting the virtues of bagina power and the evil that emanates from the penis.

March 09, 2007

Vagina

Vagina is a horrible, despicable, vulgar word and we should be ashamed of it! Well, according to a high school principal in Cross River, N.Y. it is, because he felt it absolutely crucial to suspend three 16 year old juniors, who dared to be insubordinate and spew the word vagina, in unison, during a reading of the Vagina Monologues. The suspension made national headlines, garnering an outpouring of support for the 3 girls, including from the author of the Vagina Monologues, Eve Ensler, herself. I've heard a female's sex box referred to in a number of vulgar ways. Cunt, pussy, snatch, twat, vajayjay, cat, kitty, poon, poontang, punany, bagina, etc. But I've never heard of the actual clinical term, vagina, as being deemed shameful language. The principal says he suspended the girls for insubordination, because he asked them not to use the term because young children could be in the audience during the showcase, but they used it anyway. I call foul. Isn't it a disservice to children, not to let them hear or learn the proper terms for sex organs and then explain it to them later? What other term should the young ladies have used, to refer to female genitalia during their performance? This is the 21st century, but it seems that bigotry and ignorance is the new black, this year. We have celebrities spewing hateful language, seemingly a ploy to keep their names in the press, and women are still being dictated to as to what we can and can't do with our bodies, about how our bodies should look, and what it should be doing. Now, to utter the term, vagina out loud, is considered vulgar language?? What next? Will we have to be sequestered in caves during our monthly menstrual cycles? Is penis considered vulgar? Or is cock still the en vogue and proper term? Methinks this country is conflicted in its ideals and what is considered vulgar and inappropriate. Reaching and grasping at straws, trying to unsuccessfully resurrect it's puritanical roots. The moral police gasped collectively, when Janet Jackson's breast was exposed for a mere millisecond, slowing it down for good measure, to make sure everyone saw how vulgar a woman's natural body part is. But it's quite alright to sing the praises of violence and support a frivolous war, where people are dying by the thousands. I commend these young ladies for having the courage to say vagina. There is no crime in that word. We all come from one, afterall. No?