V is for Vagina - there I have said it
I’m just gonna go out and say it: vagina.
It's a word that needs to be said more often, to take the fear and anger out of it.
In the world we live, people are more likely to spend a night in a deserted, haunted forest than say "Vagina" without a degree of fear, awkwardness or even anger.
I am still trying to figure it out why. But my assumption is that people don't know enough about vaginas.
I guess the men can't handle the mystery of this odd body part. It doesn't hang, it's flexible, also pleasurable.
But it also bleeds three days a month and pushes out babies.
It's unlike anything they've seen. And so they react in the most obvious ways. The conservative lot treat it with a fear — a fear of the unknown. They make rules for it, treat it like black magic and condemn it to hell. Those with a sense of entitlement, on the other hand, treat it as a threat.
So they try and put it down, give it a bad name and call it inferior. Typical. And when both kinds are at their desperate best to feel in control, they humiliate it, mock it or force their way in.
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As for the women, they're so taken by the fear, shame and judgment around it that they condemn a beautiful part of themselves and forever carry it as a burden.
This ugly process of self-rejection then fills them with hate against those who embrace their vaginas like the body part it is.
It is a vicious, hypocritical circle. It tells me I can't wear short clothes, drink, stay out late night, flirt with men or just generally have a good time and walk around in my underwear because I might get raped.
Even if I do none of the above, it says I am, myself, responsible if I am raped.
At the same time, it tells me that it matters how my vagina looks and smells and it sells me vaginal whitening creams and vaginal deodorants.
It tells me I'm ugly and not worthy of feeling pleasure unless I get a Brazilian wax. It makes sex toys for me, but judges me anyway for using them.
It tells me that even god needs protection when I'm menstruating — so, I can't pray and enter holy places.
I can't enter kitchens, touch anyone or anything, eat at a regular table or use regular utensils because who knows which glacier's meltdown my period might trigger.
And if I don't hide my period, like the abominable secret it is, it tells me I deserve humiliation and assault, which is exactly is what I get.
So I believe that it's about time we fix this "mysticism" that vaginas represent. Seriously, what kind of secrets can a tiny hole keep?
All you need is quick Google search, and you'll see what vaginas look like. And like our faces, vaginas have different colours, shapes and features but essentially, they're all the same.
As for menstruation, it's a process as natural as your heart beating and your lungs pumping air.
And if you think it's disgusting, you must be kidding, because it's the same red thing running through your veins at this moment.
And what we need most of all is that all the women of the world discover themselves — their bodies, their vaginas, their identity.
When we fight our fears, fight the shame, and embrace ourselves, we simply won't let anyone take us for granted again.
Say it with me: V is for Vagina.