Mothers and Vaginas

“Shhh, don’t call it that.”

My Vagina? The first time I really thought about that word was when I almost told my daughter, “Shhhh, don’t call it that. It’s a potty”. I realized I needed to explain to my daughter what a vagina was.

I’d abused my vagina for years without giving it any thought or respect. I’d fucked, been fucked, been raped — well, I didn’t actually say no…. It was that part of me that caused me physical and emotional pain and it was simply easier to pretend I just didn’t have one whenever possible. To explain to my daughter what a vagina was, would mean to think about it and talk about it… And I didn’t want to.

What would my mom think? The look on my mom’s face when someone suggested that women should masturbate to learn what they like was enough to know…oh my god, how did I even end up in a room with my mom where that conversation happened. I shudder at the thought… Mothers and vagina do not belong in the same conversation!!

What would my husband think if I said the word vagina out loud instead of calling it a cunt or pussy while we were fucking? Would it be sexy? Could he still love me? Or would he think I’ve gone to the feminist right if I insisted we used the word vagina during sex?

And if I kept thinking, “shhh, don’t call it that?”, what would my daughter think?”

Wow! all of these thoughts have to do with what other people think and I still haven’t owned up to the fact that I have a vagina, not a potty, not a pussy, not “down there”, not private parts, but a real, thriving, vibrant, brilliantly alive vagina.

A vagina that lost its virginity… at age 5… a vagina that bled for the first time at 12… a vagina that didn’t want to be touched because there were memories that needed to stay hidden… a vagina that yearns to be touched and caressed, learning to be vulnerable… a vagina… that allowed my daughter entrance into this world.

And that is where I found it, my own thoughts, not anyone else’s. My ownership of my vagina.

This part of my body is mine. My vagina is mine to do what I want with, is mine to talk about, Is mine to love and mine to love to hate. It is not for others to judge, to decide what to do with, to make laws around, or to violate. It is mine. It is my very own personal piece of heaven and… hell.

My vagina? I love my vagina. I love that I can make love or fuck with it — whichever I am in the mood for. I love the monthly throbbing and bleeding because it is a reminder of the Power of Creation. I love my vagina because without it, I couldn’t experience being a mother.

So, what do I tell my daughter? “Your potty is called a vagina, it’s a pretty cool part of you. As you get older you are going to learn more about it and how it makes you, you. Here’s the important part: Your vagina is yours. It is yours to talk about and to love. When you have any questions, you can ask me, because as your mother, it is my job to teach you… about your vagina.”