Hello Reader,
I want you to imagine on the first day you are born, you are given a garden. It is yours, but it is not yours to admire or take care of. It sits in your backyard day by day, with a plaque on it that reads your name. It may bloom vibrant colours as you age, it may burst into brilliant petals of red and yellow and purple. There may be lilacs, or daisies, or peonies in full bloom, right in your backyard. But you may never look at it, you may never touch the garden, nor take care of it. All these years, something is yours, something has been growing on your land and you cannot even catch a glimpse of it.
Now, imagine you are older, you have reached adolescence, and someone new in your life has come to your backyard and asks you questions about it. They ask about the colours, the way it grows, how much water it needs, how much sunlight it receives. How can you answer these questions honestly? How can you teach someone how to take care of your garden, when you have never even stepped out in the backyard and explored it yourself?
Yes, this is a metaphor, and yes, I have become the type of person to relate vaginas to gardens. This is not about me. This is about you, reader. Why are we taught that our own bodies are meant to be discovered by anyone else other than ourselves? This is a case of the blind leading the blind. It is ineffective, and truly, stupid as hell! You cannot teach someone algebra if you do not know algebra. Just as much as you cannot teach someone how to pleasure you if you do not know how your own body works. We are putting our pleasure in the hands of someone else because we are taught from the day we are born that it is someone else’s job to do so.
Penises have been drawn on binders and lockers and notes in class ever since I first heard the words “truth or dare.” For some reason, the male body and male pleasure has been talked about for ages, everywhere, really. “Suck my Dick, Todd!” Chad would scream across the field at recess because he had an older sibling and knew all the cool, dirty lingo. Poor Stacy, she wanted to yell on the field “Suck my clit, Becca!” But she couldn’t, because her sexuality had to be a secret and the world knows the clitoris is simply a myth. Poor Stacy.
But what made these two words so different? For some reason, the male body part could be spray painted on the walls of the cafeteria and laughed about, yet even the mention of the female anatomy, in health class, was shunned.
This is extremely problematic, as it is the lack of discussion and confrontation about the female anatomy that leads to rumours such as “the female orgasm is a mystery,” or that it is “very rare.” Essentially claiming that female pleasure must only be obtained after travelling far and wide like Nicholas Cage in National Treasure. Pro Tip: The secret to the female orgasm lies in the Declaration of Independence! But in all seriousness, the only reason why the female anatomy seems to be such a mystery is because no one ever seeks to openly discover more about it.
So essentially shaming women’s bodies since birth, leads to women never exploring their bodies, leads to partners never understanding their bodies, and ultimately leads to a lack of pleasure overall. I am not claiming that it is your fault if your partner cannot please you. I am simply stating that the natural parts of your body and your sexuality were first yours before anyone else’s.
My close friend and I went to our monthly field day trip to the sexual health and resource centre and talked openly with a cool staff member about sexuality, laughed about stories, and the world in general. If you are a Queen’s student and haven’t been there yet, you are missing out. Either way, right before we left the woman said to us “remember, sex with yourself is the most important kind of sex.” On one hand, that could be a hilarious excuse for someone who really needs to get laid. On the other hand, it is so very true. How many times have you looked in a mirror in your whole lifetime? If I asked you where your birthmarks and scars were, I am sure you would jump to your feet and point to different parts of your body to show me its unique marks. If I asked you how far apart you could stretch your arms, I don’t doubt that you would do so, so sure of the way your body moves. Your sexuality is no different. It is a natural part of your body that you were born with. So learn about it.
I ask you reader, to open your doors, step outside and explore your own grounds. Bloom on your own. Then tell people how to water your needs. Like the badass, self-aware gardener you are.