Letter From the Editor: I Love My Pussy

Letter From the Editor: I Love My Pussy

Letter From the Editor: I Love My Pussy

From our Acquisitions Editor, Kala Wahl

My pussy has seen lots of bad things. Bad as in stuff that shouldn’t be put up there, or that you don’t want to have to put up there. Like Monistat cream, g-strings a size too small, boys who give head with teeth, two tampons at once (it was an honest mistake; I had forgotten the other one was up there), more Monistat cream for whatever infection I have now….

But she’s also seen forceps and a curette, you know, tools used for an abortion. She’s seen fingers she didn’t want up there, dicks she asked to pull out but they wouldn’t. I don’t hate her for any of those things. I don’t blame her, and I don’t resent her. I like my pussy. Actually, I love my pussy.

She’s been integral to my experience as a woman. That’s not to reduce myself to just my genitals, or imply that vaginas are integral to everyone’s womanhood. Because they’re not. But I’ve found her to be quite important in mine. In order to love myself, I had to learn to love her. Because society sure as hell didn’t bother to teach me how to do that—asides from that one Britney Spears song about masturbation, “Touch of My Hand.” She talks about her fingers and this supposed power that radiates from them and makes her a woman when she touches herself. But even then, she wasn’t specific enough. What exactly am I supposed to be touching, Britney? A younger me wondered. I eventually figured it out. I have had psychics tell me that I am hyper intelligent compared to most people or whatever; it’s a blessing and a curse, for sure.

But the connections between the words bad and pussy tend to be endless. While there’s not exactly a textbook on it, society has taught us several things about our pussies.

We’re taught to be scared of them—of touching them and talking about them, while we meanwhile exist in a world where men etch penises onto school desks (bonus points if someone draws two strands of hair on the balls) and openly discuss which teacher they jerk off to. But the word vagina is somehow too gross to even say; society has only just recently learned to stomach tampon. And god forbid a girl draw a vagina on a desk. Most guys probably wouldn’t be able to recognize what it was, you know, because they have trouble getting laid.

We’re taught to hate our pussies. Because of them we get painful periods, gross discharge, and the responsibility of squeezing out babies. Not all of our labias are neatly tucked in, so then we might consider a labiaplasty, because it’s not like all vaginas are different or anything. How should we know? Nobody fucking talks about it. Our pubes don’t always come in correctly. We produce weird smells that boys might draw attention to—which, if a boy comments on your vaginal odor, just like wipe your vagina on his pillow or something: fuck ‘em.

We’re told our pussies are the reasons we get hurt. Be it assault. Be it rape. Or maybe because we gave it up to a boy way too soon and now he’s not interested in us anymore. Wipe your vagina on his pillow too.

I could go on if I wanted to.

But then that would imply the entire canon of my female experience thus far—in my case, an experience that has involved my pussy—has been defined by all these bad things. It would contribute to the idea that having a pussy is bad. And I’m not satisfied with that.

It’s taken me awhile to get here, but I love my pussy, and I love all the good things she does. She’s a little dinged up—been to hell and back, then to the gynecologist, back to hell for a bit, the gyne again, and then to Victoria’s Secret to celebrate—but she’s all mine. Nobody’s got a pussy like mine, and she’s a total pop star. I’d do her, and I do do her sometimes.

She can grow lots of hair that I could dye pink if I wanted. She’s the reason I get to hand some random woman I’ve never seen before, and will probably never see again, a tampon in a women’s restroom somewhere. She can wear lots of cool panties. She can give herself great orgasms, and she doesn’t mind getting them from others either. She might potentially want to carry a child one day, who knows; I think that’s at least a nice option to have (even though I think babies look funny at this current stage in my life). And you know, the vagina cleans itself, like a cat; I like that.

It’s important to find things you like about your pussy.

It became apparent when going through our #MeToo Month submissions that women really seemed to loathe being women. And how could we not? We’re dealt shitty cards that put us in shitty situations most men will never have to deal with. But I don’t want to spend the rest of my life dwelling in that. It would make me sick and angry; those are two things my therapist from like forever ago that I fired told me I should avoid. We shouldn’t hate ourselves because of someone else’s actions, or resent having a vagina because of someone mistreating them. With the anniversary of #MeToo upon us, we’ve had ample time to reflect on the bad. Stories of injustice will always exist, and thanks to #MeToo some will continue to come to light and find a voice. But it’s also important to begin to heal and focus on the good. And that means acknowledging our pussies for all the crazy, wonderful things they do too. Like randomly getting themselves pregnant. Love it or hate it, it’s a talent. You think you took your pill and then oopsie.

Vaginas aren’t synonymous with womanhood, and you don’t have to place importance on them if that’s not your prerogative. But accepting my pussy and all the positive that comes with her is what defines my womanhood now. I don’t think vagina is a bad word, and I definitely don’t think pussy is either. Say it three times fast; you might even begin to like it too.

Kala Wahl: Acquisitions Editor

Kala Wahl graduated from Columbia College Chicago in 2018 with a BA in Fiction Writing, and has had work featured in the "Hair Trigger" anthologies. Don't ask her what she plans on doing with her future or about those cans of beer underneath her bed; some of them are probably still good. She likes reading your work, but she wishes you'd say fuck just a little more.

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