Vaginas are cool. As a heterosexual cis-gender male, I’ve always kind of dug them, but until first seeing one up-close when I was a sophomore in college, I only ever read about them in books or looked at (air-brushed) photos of them in magazines. Those weren’t accurate depictions either, as they had been heavily shaven, waxed, and made to look pretty.
Don’t get me wrong: I love my penis, but I don’t have the relationship with my sex organ that some guys do. I have never named it. I also don’t refer to it with the pronoun “he/him”. (Some guys do.) I know some women name their vaginas. They even talk to them. If my wife names hers, or talks to it, she keeps that to herself. My penis and her vagina have met many times, and we get along really well. Her vagina has really taught my penis to open up a lot, as it has always been a bit shy.
I was just really unaware of the lush history and worlds that abound about the vagina. Thanks to Rachel E. Gross’s wonderful book “Vagina Obscura: An Anatomical Voyage”, I’ve learned a lot about my second-favorite sex organ. Actually, after reading the book, the vagina may be my first-favorite sex organ. No offense, penis.
I do have to say that I’m thankful that I’m living in the 21st century, as so much about what we know about the vagina has really been brought to light just within the past 50 years. This is because for almost the entirety of human history, the vagina has always been second fiddle to the penis. In many cases, vaginas weren’t even allowed to play in the back-up band to the penis.
Historically, the female reproductive system was never a priority in terms of study. Like everything else, healthcare was ruled by the patriarchy, and knowledge of reproductive health—-or even just basic health—-was overtly phallocentric. The vagina—-like women in general—-was viewed as only important as they related to men.
Indeed, women’s sex organs were often, if not always, looked at as something to be ashamed of. The Latin word given to the female genitalia, pudendum, literally translates as “part for which you should be ashamed.”
Vaginas have certainly come a long way since then, but there is still a lack of knowledge and, in some cultures, an unfortunate taboo regarding female sexuality. In one of the most heart-breaking chapters, Gross writes about the practice of clitorectomies, a.k.a. female genital mutilation, that is still performed in some countries.
These barbaric operations are meant to mitigate or completely eliminate female sexual arousal, stemming from a belief that a sexually aroused woman is an uncontrollable woman.
Gross’s book is an entertaining, fascinating, and occasionally humorous examination of all things vagina: from how Sigmund Freud’s theory of “penis envy” really kind of fucked things up for women to how vaginas have historically (and erroneously) been viewed as the “passive” actor in the sex act to how a strictly female disease such as endometriosis has been so dangerously misunderstood due to a lack of interest in a male-dominated health care system.
Also throughout the book are stories of the “hidden figures” in women’s health: women like Dr. Helen O’Connell, Dr. Patty Brennan, and Dr. Dori Woods. These women have revolutionized women’s health, but in many cases they are figuratively—-and literally—-still merely footnotes in a history that is still heavily populated and controlled by males.
I can’t recommend this book enough, especially to women who love their vaginas, but also to men who love and respect the vaginas in their lives.