I'm a girl and I've been with my boyfriend for 8 months. I'm 18 and he's my first boyfriend. We've never had sex (he has had it before) but we've done other things. I have a problem though, I'm really scared to orgasm. Like we'll be doing something that feels so good and I know that if we just continued a bit longer I would get there (I feel the muscles contracting, the heart pumping, the intensity building and all that) but then I chicken out and make him stop. He's fine with it and very supportive and respects that I'm so scared, but it bothers me. Why can't I just let myself get there? It's the same deal if I um, "pleasure myself." Is there any way I can or he can help myself get over this fear of the unknown?
I'm a 24-year-old woman who's never had any kind of partnered sex or been in a relationship. Until very recently, my libido was like a quiet walk in a very dull park. I had to make a serious effort to become sexually aroused, and was attracted mostly to men, but not very many men. I would masturbate maybe five or six times a month, and never orgasm. Intellectually I knew there was nothing wrong with that, but I felt freakish and insufficiently sexual.
I recently learned how to give myself an orgasm, though, and now I get incredibly turned on sometimes when I'm not even thinking about sex. I've gone from quiet walk in the park to stuck on a runaway train. It's distracting, embarrassing, and physically exhausting. When given the chance I will masturbate about fifteen times a day. On top of all that I've started noticing women as sexually attractive, and more men as attractive than I did before. This all happened within the space of three days. I know sexuality can be fluid but I kind of assumed the changes were gradual.
Why am I suddenly insatiable? I'm worried that either this will continue and I'll spend my days in perpetual need of a cold shower, or I'll go right back to being mostly desireless.
This is our final installment of stories and photographs from I'll Show You Mine, a book by Wrenna Robertson and photographer Katie Huisman, and by all of the women featured in the book, collectively. To find out more about the book, Wrenna, and why we think this is such an important project, check out our interview with her here. Or, you can visit the website for the book to find out and more and get a copy for yourself.
If you'd like to ask the person whose body and words are featured in each entry any questions or have a conversation with her, most of the subjects have agreed to make themselves available here in the comments for discussions with our readers. As mentioned in Wrenna's interview, so many people never get the opportunity to talk about genitals in an honest, open and safe way with others, so we encourage you to avail yourselves of the opportunity, and are so grateful to the women involved for making this kind of conversation available to Scarleteen readers.
We're also happy to talk with you as Scarleteen staff or volunteers if you like. Depending on your feelings about your own genitals or those of others, and your experience (or lack of it) in seeing vulvas so realistically before, reading narratives or seeing images like these may stir up feelings for you which are uncomfortable. We're glad to talk you through any discomfort if you like should that happen for you. We're also happy to answer any questions this series may bring up for you about sexual or reproductive anatomy, either here in comments, on our message boards, or through our text service.
Reminder: This post includes a set of unaltered, unretouched and detailed photographs of the vulva for the purposes of awareness and education, not for sexual or other entertainment. If you do not wish to view photos like this, or are in a location where you do not feel comfortable viewing them, you may not want to read or scroll to the bottom of this page. We have left substantial space in between the words and the images so you may read all of the author's narrative without also viewing the images if you prefer.
This post also includes a first-person narrative reflective of the author and their own thoughts, feelings and language, which may or may not reflect the opinions or values of Scarleteen as an organization.
Yes, the picture you are looking at is my vagina.
When I look at this picture, I feel alienated. I will tell you why. Here is my story.
When I heard about this project, I got so excited about it. Right away, I volunteered to participate. Words could not describe my reaction to learning about genital cosmetic surgery. I felt that I was doing something important by participating. And then shooting day came. I realized that my vagina was really going to be a model.
I am a woman who believes it is important to keep some hair on the vagina. The hair is there for a reason: it protects your genitals from several things, including bacteria. It's also a natural way to reduce unwanted friction during intercourse.
I've never removed my hair fully. I only trim for personal hygiene. When I trim I don't necessarily try to get a perfect shape.
But this time, before the photo shoot I considered trimming perfectly. "It's going to be in the book," I thought.
I started to trim. In a short time, I noticed that my hair was becoming less and less. It happened so fast. I couldn't believe that I had removed it all. "No hair." I wanted to scream.
I was looking at the mirror to see what I did. And my vagina was looking back at me. "What did you do?"
Should I cancel the photo shoot? This is not the way I look naturally. I can't undo it. I couldn't believe that "the look of my vagina" had become such a big concern.
What I believed had practically collapsed. being photographed "got" me. Wanting a well-trimmed look, the process had resulted in a disaster. I felt I didn't really respect myself, by contradicting my beliefs and altering my body.
I hope this story reminds women that we are all beautiful just as we are, and not to let anyone or anything change how you look naturally.
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Previous posts in this series:
Want some information on vulvas and other sexual anatomy, gender and body image? Check these links out to get started:
This is the seventh installment of stories and photographs from I'll Show You Mine, a book by Wrenna Robertson and photographer Katie Huisman, and by all of the women featured in the book, collectively. To find out more about the book, Wrenna, and why we think this is such an important project, check out our interview with her here. Or, you can visit the website for the book to find out and more and get a copy for yourself.
If you'd like to ask the person whose body and words are featured in each entry any questions or have a conversation with her, most of the subjects have agreed to make themselves available here in the comments for discussions with our readers. As mentioned in Wrenna's interview, so many people never get the opportunity to talk about genitals in an honest, open and safe way with others, so we encourage you to avail yourselves of the opportunity, and are so grateful to the women involved for making this kind of conversation available to Scarleteen readers.
We're also happy to talk with you as Scarleteen staff or volunteers if you like. Depending on your feelings about your own genitals or those of others, and your experience (or lack of it) in seeing vulvas so realistically before, reading narratives or seeing images like these may stir up feelings for you which are uncomfortable. We're glad to talk you through any discomfort if you like should that happen for you. We're also happy to answer any questions this series may bring up for you about sexual or reproductive anatomy, either here in comments, on our message boards, or through our text service.
Reminder: This post includes a set of unaltered, unretouched and detailed photographs of the vulva for the purposes of awareness and education, not for sexual or other entertainment. If you do not wish to view photos like this, or are in a location where you do not feel comfortable viewing them, you may not want to read or scroll to the bottom of this page. We have left substantial space in between the words and the images so you may read all of the author's narrative without also viewing the images if you prefer.
This post also includes a first-person narrative reflective of the author and their own thoughts, feelings and language, which may or may not reflect the opinions or values of Scarleteen as an organization.
The opportunity to participate in this project came along at the perfect time during my journey of rediscovering who I am, as a woman, as a person, during the second half of my life.
I was sexually repressed for most of my life and it has only been in the last few years that my sexuality has truly awakened. I felt my marriage less than a year ago and found myself back in the dating game. I am drawn to younger men, men who grew up on porn, men who date younger women who grew up on porn, porn that depicts perfect little shaved pussies.
The men I was dating did not seem interested in my southern region for oral purposes; I started to become self-conscious about it. I had never seen another woman's vagina up close and personal and I had only used a mirror a few times to check out my own. I started to take a closer look at mine, comparing it to the only reference I had - porn - wondering how I should improve the appearance of my vagina.
Did I need to shave? Should I have my mole removed? How do I make my vagina more inviting to men?
And then it dawned on me: it wasn't about creating the perfect vagina for others to see, it was about me accepting mine as it was. Body image issues seem to plague so many women and it was finally time for me to embrace and appreciate my body, to love who I am, as I am. I have what I have, my body is mine and I am going to keep it as it is.
As I became more comfortable with my vagina and my body as a whole, men became more interested. It was all about my attitude and how I projected these feelings unto men. As I became more confident in who I was, men picked up on my new empowered self and they were then eager to journey to my southern region... better sex and mutual sexual satisfaction soon followed.
I am proud to say: my name is Laure and this is my vagina.
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Previous posts in this series:
Want some information on vulvas and other sexual anatomy, gender and body image? Check these links out to get started:
This is our sixth installment of stories and photographs from I'll Show You Mine, a book by Wrenna Robertson and photographer Katie Huisman, and by all of the women featured in the book, collectively. To find out more about the book, Wrenna, and why we think this is such an important project, check out our interview with her here. Or, you can visit the website for the book to find out and more and get a copy for yourself.
If you'd like to ask the person whose body and words are featured in each entry any questions or have a conversation with her, most of the subjects have agreed to make themselves available here in the comments for discussions with our readers. As mentioned in Wrenna's interview, so many people never get the opportunity to talk about genitals in an honest, open and safe way with others, so we encourage you to avail yourselves of the opportunity, and are so grateful to the women involved for making this kind of conversation available to Scarleteen readers.
We're also happy to talk with you as Scarleteen staff or volunteers if you like. Depending on your feelings about your own genitals or those of others, and your experience (or lack of it) in seeing vulvas so realistically before, reading narratives or seeing images like these may stir up feelings for you which are uncomfortable. We're glad to talk you through any discomfort if you like should that happen for you. We're also happy to answer any questions this series may bring up for you about sexual or reproductive anatomy, either here in comments, on our message boards, or through our text service.
Reminder: This post includes a set of unaltered, unretouched and detailed photographs of the vulva for the purposes of awareness and education, not for sexual or other entertainment. If you do not wish to view photos like this, or are in a location where you do not feel comfortable viewing them, you may not want to read or scroll to the bottom of this page. We have left substantial space in between the words and the images so you may read all of the author's narrative without also viewing the images if you prefer.
This post also includes a first-person narrative reflective of the author and their own thoughts, feelings and language, which may or may not reflect the opinions or values of Scarleteen as an organization.
In casual conversation, it is my vag, or va-goo if I'm in a silly mood. If I'm feeling particularly Feministy or Earth Mother Birthing Goddessy, it is my Yoni. I tell a lover I would love to lick her pussy. Whatever it is called, one thing is certain: it is pretty freaking amazing.
I am a doula, which means that I see on a regular basis the phenomenal things our vaginas can do. I have also birthed two children myself. My first child was a hefty 10 pounds. I gave birth on my hands and knees, stopped listening to the people shouting at me to push, and pushed when I felt like it. I did not tear.
The nurses were amazed with my vagina; I was amazed with myself.
While pregnant with my second, the topic at a party steered towards childbirth. A friend of mine emphatically stated that when she has children she would opt for a cesarean. Not for fear of pain but because she did not want to ruin her vagina. She told me flippantly that I must be loose.
Loose. Ruined.
I realize that sometimes in childbirth problems do occur that lead to major changes in women's vaginas, and I do not wish to discredit those experiences. However, I want to address the idea that childbirth, aging or having lots of sex leads to a RUINED vagina.
I took a look at the dictionary definition of "ruined." Total destruction or disintegration. To harm irreparably.
Many things may change the shape of our vagina and vulva, childbirth being one of them. But does having a different vagina mean it is ruined?
My vagina has accommodated the birth of two large infants, and returned more or less to its original shape. It has been penetrated by various body parts and sex toys and perhaps some things that were not meant as sex toys but were commandeered for that purpose. To this date I have enjoyed a vibrant sex life with a variety of partners. Is my vagina ruined? No! I want to stop hearing women worry that childbirth will RUIN their vagina, stop hearing about doctors putting in a "daddy stitch" when they repair a vaginal tear and get rid of terminology that defines women by their vaginas.
Women who sleep around are called "loose women." There is a problem with that.
My name in Kacey, I have birthed two large babies, slept with multiple partners and had a variety of interesting items in my hoo-ha. Despite this myriad of "vagina destroying" activities, my pussy remains the bastion of partner pleasing, baby birthing and self-exploratory awesomeness that it has always been. Woo!
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Previous posts in this series:
Want some information on vulvas and other sexual anatomy, gender and body image? Check these links out to get started:
This is our fifth installment of stories and photographs from I'll Show You Mine, a book by Wrenna Robertson and photographer Katie Huisman, and by all of the women featured in the book, collectively. To find out more about the book, Wrenna, and why we think this is such an important project, check out our interview with her here. Or, you can visit the website for the book to find out and more and get a copy for yourself.
If you'd like to ask the person whose body and words are featured in each entry any questions or have a conversation with her, most of the subjects have agreed to make themselves available here in the comments for discussions with our readers. As mentioned in Wrenna's interview, so many people never get the opportunity to talk about genitals in an honest, open and safe way with others, so we encourage you to avail yourselves of the opportunity, and are so grateful to the women involved for making this kind of conversation available to Scarleteen readers.
We're also happy to talk with you as Scarleteen staff or volunteers if you like. Depending on your feelings about your own genitals or those of others, and your experience (or lack of it) in seeing vulvas so realistically before, reading narratives or seeing images like these may stir up feelings for you which are uncomfortable. We're glad to talk you through any discomfort if you like should that happen for you. We're also happy to answer any questions this series may bring up for you about sexual or reproductive anatomy, either here in comments, on our message boards, or through our text service.
Reminder: This post includes a set of unaltered, unretouched and detailed photographs of the vulva for the purposes of awareness and education, not for sexual or other entertainment. If you do not wish to view photos like this, or are in a location where you do not feel comfortable viewing them, you may not want to read or scroll to the bottom of this page. We have left substantial space in between the words and the images so you may read all of the author's narrative without also viewing the images if you prefer.
This post also includes a first-person narrative reflective of the author and their own thoughts, feelings and language, which may or may not reflect the opinions or values of Scarleteen as an organization.
I knew at an early age that I had increased sensitivity all over my vulva, later discovering through an OB/GYN that my condition was called vulvar vestibulitis.
The exact cause is unknown but that pain lasts moments to weeks. The options presented to me to relieve the discomfort were hormonal creams and laser surgery to remove a layer of skin from the most sensitive area. When a variety of special hormonal creams failed to alleviate any pain, I chose to follow a strict diet, switched to all organic soaps and detergents, meditated with Quantum Healing Touch and abstained from intercourse. But the pain always came back.
Taking care of my physical body was only a part of the healing process because after many years of suffering, I discovered that both my heart and mind-body must be involved in order to live a pleasurable life.
Pain of all kinds have persisted throughout my life, but the experiences wouldn't have come to me if I was not strong enough to handle them.
A few months after turning 16, I had a boyfriend who didn't respect my request to remain a virgin and raped me while I was unconscious after drinking alcohol with him.
It was not the last time I was sexually assaulted.
Thriving rather than just surviving after abuse meant I had to radically alter my perspective. We always have the choice of what to focus on and I realized that the ones who assaulted me continue to suffer most because they don't know how to engage in a loving relationship and their sexual desires have become a dis-ease.
I changed drastically; I engaged in an adventurous, long-distance romance that was initiated via the internet, and I moved to another city to begin a career as an exotic dancer, which unexpectedly became therapy for me. My passion for dance and enjoyment of being naked allowed me to receive praise and appreciation from the gender I once greatly feared. In a setting where many people perceive women to be exploited, I was introduced to a nurturing soul mate who shares unconditional love with me.
Loving myself and being loved has taken the pain away and it has yet to resurface!
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Previous posts in this series:
Want some information on vulvas and other sexual anatomy, gender and body image? Check these links out to get started:
This is our fourth installment of stories and photographs from I'll Show You Mine, a book by Wrenna Robertson and photographer Katie Huisman, and by all of the women featured in the book, collectively. To find out more about the book, Wrenna, and why we think this is such an important project, check out our interview with her here. Or, you can visit the website for the book to find out and more and get a copy for yourself.
If you would like to ask the person whose body and words are featured in each entry any questions or have a conversation with her, most of the subjects have agreed to make themselves available here in the comments for discussions with our readers. As mentioned in Wrenna's interview, so many people never get the opportunity to talk about genitals in an honest, open and safe way with others, so we encourage you to avail yourselves of the opportunity, and are so grateful to the women involved for making this kind of conversation available to Scarleteen readers.
We're also happy to talk with you as Scarleteen staff or volunteers if you like. Depending on your feelings about your own genitals or those of others, and your experience (or lack of it) in seeing vulvas so realistically before, reading narratives or seeing images like these may stir up feelings for you which are uncomfortable. We're glad to talk you through any discomfort if you like should that happen for you. We're also happy to answer any questions this series may bring up for you about sexual or reproductive anatomy, either here in comments, on our message boards, or through our text service.
Reminder: This post includes a set of unaltered, unretouched and detailed photographs of the vulva for the purposes of awareness and education, not for sexual or other entertainment. If you do not wish to view photos like this, or are in a location where you do not feel comfortable viewing them, you may not want to read or scroll to the bottom of this page. We have left substantial space in between the words and the images so you may read all of the author's narrative without also viewing the images if you prefer.
This post also includes a first-person narrative reflective of the author and their own thoughts, feelings and language, which may or may not reflect the opinions or values of Scarleteen as an organization.
My pussy is special to me because I didn't always have one, because I have worked so hard to be able to have one. I always struggled with my gender identity and, in particular, having male genitalia, as it never felt right to me. In my darkest times, I could not go to the bathroom without thinking about taking a butcher's knife to my genitalia.
My vagina was constructed out of the tissues from my old genitalia: the labia are created from my scrotal tissue, the vaginal wall from the skin tissue of the penile shaft, and the clitoris made from the head of the penis (including all the nerve endings). I have no cervix, no uterus or ovaries. I do not get periods and cannot get pregnant. This is a blessing I've been told by many other women, yet I still wish I could experience these natural parts of womanhood. Despite this, I know that I am just as real a woman as any other.
I remember a couple days after my surgery, when I could feel my new pussy underneath all the bandages. Finally everything about my body felt right. Somehow I knew where everything was, even though I couldn't see it and all I had known before was my penis.
In fact, ever since that moment, I have not been able to remember what having a penis ever felt like. For me, this is a wonderful freedom. I've had people tell me I'm "crazy" or that I would regret this, that I would miss my penis. The truth is I could never bring myself to go back, even if it were still physically possible. I used to have a recurring nightmare in which I would wake up in a hospital with my penis sewn back on me. Now, when I see myself naked, I can look down at my pussy and be reassured that it could never happen.
My vagina isn't much to look at; the slit curves near the bottom, and I have a thick scar on each side of my labia, which is very visible if I shave my pubic hair. Yet I feel a sense of satisfaction whenever I look at it. My pussy's beauty comes from its struggle for its own existence. I feel a connection with it that I never had with my previous genitalia.
I've had my vagina for a year and a half now, and I honestly can't imagine my life without it anymore. I enjoy sex so much more, as everything feels so much more natural and satisfying. My pussy has given me the confidence that I needed in order to love my body.
Today, I love being naked because I can look at my body and be happy with who I am, and my pussy is an integral part of that experience.
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Previous posts in this series:
Want some information on vulvas and other sexual anatomy, gender and body image? Check these links out to get started:
This is our third installment of stories and photographs from I'll Show You Mine, a book by Wrenna Robertson and photographer Katie Huisman, and by all of the women featured in the book, collectively. To find out more about the book, Wrenna, and why we think this is such an important project, check out our interview with her here. Or, you can visit the website for the book to find out and more and get a copy for yourself.
If you would like to ask the person whose body and words are featured in each entry any questions or have a conversation with her, most of the subjects have agreed to make themselves available here in the comments for discussions with our readers. As mentioned in Wrenna's interview, so many people never get the opportunity to talk about genitals in an honest, open and safe way with others, so we encourage you to avail yourselves of the opportunity, and are so grateful to the women involved for making this kind of conversation available to Scarleteen readers.
We're also happy to talk with you as Scarleteen staff or volunteers if you like. Depending on your feelings about your own genitals or those of others, and your experience (or lack of it) in seeing vulvas so realistically before, reading narratives or seeing images like these may stir up feelings for you which are uncomfortable. We're glad to talk you through any discomfort if you like should that happen for you. We're also happy to answer any questions this series may bring up for you about sexual or reproductive anatomy, either here in comments, on our message boards, or through our text service.
Reminder: This post includes a set of unaltered, unretouched and detailed photographs of the vulva for the purposes of awareness and education, not for sexual or other entertainment. If you do not wish to view photos like this, or are in a location where you do not feel comfortable viewing them, you may not want to read or scroll to the bottom of this page. We have left substantial space in between the words and the images so you may read all of the author's narrative without also viewing the images if you prefer.
This post also includes a first-person narrative reflective of the author and their own thoughts, feelings and language, which may or may not reflect the opinions or values of Scarleteen as an organization.
My vagina history contains culture shock, a single father, religion and terrible experiences with men. It confused, sexualized and controlled most of my life.
I remember my first experience with my vagina. I was 7 years old. I was bathing when I accidentally created water pressure and it ran down my vagina. It felt strangely good and unlike anything I had felt before. Instinctively, I felt that I had to keep this discovery to myself because I knew there was something dirty about it. I had immigrated to Canada leaving my home, my culture and my mother to live with my father. We never had the sex/genital conversation.
I had come from a different culture and had grown up with a different set of freedoms. I remember feeling sad when my father didn't allow my younger brother and me to bathe together. I quickly learned to be self-conscious as my native culture was very different from Canadian culture. Growing up in Canada with a single father was difficult. Going through puberty was challenging and having my first period was the worst.
I enjoyed my showers and baths for years. It was where my body felt good; I just didn't understand anything about it. As I matured, I was curious and hopeful about sex. When I talked with my girlfriends, I was excited when I heard about their sexual activities and saw how they carried themselves with such confidence. It was enough for me to try it out. Sex was not what I had expected and I became even more conflicted as I was raised believing that sex before marriage was against my religion. I continued to feel confused and ashamed for masturbating and having sex.
Not until the last few years have I freed myself from all that had oppressed my vagina and my identity. I moved away from my father, I freed myself from religion, and I have opened up to spirituality and to connection. I freed myself from having meaningless sex and eventually met a man who my vagina became very fond of. He treated my vagina in the most delicate and precious way. All of my bad memories and experiences disappeared the day I saw him staring and touching my whole vagina in daylight, just looking at it with his blue eyes. It was also the day I first embraced my vagina and accepted myself. Together we've discovered the depths of my vagina, its details and its abilities, its wants and needs, its likes and dislikes. With his openness he helped free my vagina from its previous life and today I am not ashamed anymore. I have accepted the gift of womanhood and self-worth and I want to share it with you.
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Previous posts in this series:
Want some information on vulvas and other sexual anatomy, gender and body image? Check these links out to get started:
If you’ve been reading Scarleteen for a while, you might already know that for many years now, we've heard from a good deal of young women who are deeply ashamed of and disgusted by these parts of their own bodies.
Some have feelings so negative that they are afraid to show loving partners their vulvas, or worry a lot about partners they haven't even met yet and that unknown person's reaction to the appearance of their vulva. Others don't get sexual healthcare they need because they don't want a doctor to see their vulvas: in other words, for some, distress about vulval appearance may be putting not just their emotional health and self-esteem, but physical health at risk. Some are so fearful, disgusted or negative they won't even use a mirror to get a better look at their vulvas alone, or won't touch their own vulvas because their feelings of disgust are so strong. Some even find it hard to feel comfortable around other women in non-sexual ways or to hear other women talk about their bodies because their discomfort extends beyond feelings about their own vulvas to the vulvas of everybody.
Plenty have expressed a desire for cosmetic surgery, even when healthcare providers and others have assured them that their ideas their vulvas look or are atypical are not founded in reality. Some have feelings so negative they have asked us how to remove or dissect their labia themselves and have voiced earnest intent to do so, or even having already tried doing so.
While we have always had more users with vulvas than those with penises, I can count on less than one hand how many people have ever stated intent to mutilate or amputate their own penises or foreskins because they feel they’re ugly, abnormal or sexually unappealing, while I’d estimate we have heard from at least 100 people over the last few years in email or on the website who have stated that kind of intent about their vulvas. Sometimes those feelings are based in, or have been amplified by, guys who these young women are sexual with or are considering being sexual with making negative, ignorant and really out-of-order comments about their vulvas or the vulvas of other women (usually as the imagine them or see them in porn, rather than from real-life experience). While we have yet to hear from someone with a sexual partner who is a woman making the same kinds of negative comments, sometimes those feelings and perceptions have come from the ways they have read or heard other women talk about vulvas, and not just women they see on plastic surgery shows getting labiaplasties, but their mothers, sisters, friends, even women who claim to be doing some kind of work out of love for other women, but whose love clearly doesn't extend to women's bodies, including their own.
Sometimes people feel negatively about their vulvas even when partners and other people in their lives have been nothing but positive, even complimentary. When that's the case, it's usually because that person is just so convinced their bodies must be wrong, or when they have given messages from media or internet forums or hallway gossip more weight than what people who they value in their lives have to say.
You don’t need me to tell you that all of this is seriously distressing.
We take this very seriously, and have always wanted to do everything we could to try and help dispel all kinds of body shame or hatred, including that of the vulva. To help counter these kinds of feeling and attitudes, we’ve done a lot of one-on-one talking with people who feel that way, continue to provide accurate, positive, body-loving information about sexual anatomy and to debunk some of the kinds of myths, ignorance, oppression or negativity that are or can be part of fear and shame around the vulva, vagina and bodies on the whole, as well as some pieces that directly address worries, concerns or negative feelings about labial or other vulval appearance. We've supported the work the New View Campaign has done around this issue. We have a page here on the site with some of Betty Dodson’s rad vulva illustrations to show some vulval diversity.
Up until now, everything we've had at Scarleteen that has depicted genitals have been illustrations, not photographs. In part, that’s been because often photographs available aren’t done well, don’t depict much diversity or clearly are for entertainment, not education. That's also been about thinking of people who are viewing our site in a public place. But an even greater influence than both of those things has been that we already tend to take a good bit of flack for just having illustrations, or even talking with young people at all about body parts. Having photographs has seemed like it would open us up to a whole new circle of hate mail hell.
However, we remain deeply concerned about this, and want to try and do all we can to dispel all of these negatives and drum up more body-positive, real-deal information and attitudes. And that’s why over the next couple of months, we’re going to go ahead and take the risk of publishing some photos of real-person vulvas, because we’ve found something we think is beautifully done, very much needed, and that we think can be of great benefit to many of our readers, whether they have vulvas themselves or not.
What we found, and what the select images and stories we’ll be sharing with you in a series are from is I’ll Show You Mine, an educational resource book created to debunk society’s artificial and unrealistic standards for normalcy and beauty with the vulva, and to help people really get a sense of not only what vulvas can look like, in all their diversity, but the diverse ways people who have them can feel about them. The book is a collaboration between exotic dancer Wrenna Robertson and photographer Katie Huisman. 10 percent of profits from the sale of the book are donated to local and international women's charities and free copies are available for educational and public use.
I’ll Show You Mine is a unique public resource. Sixty women are represented in the book, each with two large, true colour photographs. The photos are paired with in-her-own-words stories of each woman’s experience of the shaping forces of her sexuality; the stories range from heart-wrenching to celebratory, from angry to sensual. Women from a variety of ethnicities, ages spanning from 19 into their sixties, and all walks of life are represented: students, doctors, artists, academics, sex workers, mothers, grandmothers, housewives, entrepreneurs and more.
Wrenna says – and we agree – that the book is not intended as erotica or as art. It is, quite simply, reality. Before we roll out a new series based on the book, I wanted to share some of Wrenna’s own thoughts, feelings and words about the book and the process of creating it.
Wrenna has worked for half of her life as a stripper. She says that “since the time I began in the industry, plastic surgery has been very common, with women opting for breast augmentations since long before I started. Recently, however, I began to notice a trend I found quite troubling. Numerous co-workers spoke to me about the insecurities they had regarding their labia minora. Two of them asked if they could show me their vulva, wanting my opinion on whether or not I thought they should seek labiaplasty. Three others indicated that they, too, were uncomfortable with the appearance of their genitals. They were too shy to display their labia in the brightly lighted change room.
"Every woman was uncomfortable with the topic, choosing to bring it up with me only when no one else was around, each speaking in apologetic tones, as if this was such taboo topic, it was a burden to be placing upon me. Remember - these are strippers I am talking about. Women who are often thought by many to be among the most sexually liberal in our society. I realized that if these women had such a hard time talking about their labia, found it so challenging to show their genitals to a friend, then there was likely a whole bunch of women out there who felt equally shy. And I wondered, if women are so shy talking about vulvas, too shy to take the opportunity to share with friends what their bodies look like, where were they getting this idea of what theirs should look like?
"I recognized that there was a dearth of resource material which allowed women to view other women’s genitals. Certainly there is no shortage of porn available on the internet, but I don’t feel the images are presented in a way which allows a woman to fully view the vast diversity and beauty of female genitals, nor are all women comfortable watching pornography. I decided to make a book which would display life-size and full color photos of a diverse range of vulvas, all shot from the same camera angles and in the same lighting conditions. I also recognized that this was an incredible opportunity for women to share their experiences surrounding their bodies and their sexualities. I believe our inability to share openly about this part of our body is a very large part of the problem. I saw this as an opportunity to encourage women to examine how they feel about their bodies, about their sexuality, to uncover the root of those feelings. I recognized that being able to glimpse into another woman’s experience can be such a powerful way to learn about ourselves and they way society has shaped our feelings and beliefs."
I asked Wrenna who she intended the book to be for. She said that she "made this book primarily for young women, but see[s] it as valuable for all members of society. Gaining an appreciation of the diversity of the vulva is crucial to men as well as women, and the depth of experience shared by the 60 models is a powerful lesson for everyone. There is so much conveyed in the short stories that it would be hard to close the book unchanged in some way. It was truly revelatory for me, to gain a more complete understanding of how our culture shapes our beliefs regarding sexuality and shame."
I found that the stories of the women who took part in this project to be unusually earnest, real and powerful. So, I incredibly curious about the experience they had not just taking part in the project, but ultimately, being the project. After all, if looking at a book like this could be as radical and pivotal as I think it can for many people, especially those who haven't had the chance to see an array of other vulvas before, being part of it was probably even more powerful.
"The women who so bravely chose to take part in this project have conveyed that they benefitted immensely from their participation. Many faced very deep fears in deciding to have their genitals photographed, then dispayed in a book. Almost all found the process of writing a narrative even more difficult. It is an exercise I encourage everyone to undertake. Numerous women told stories they have never shared before, and found it to be cathartic. For myself, it was the starting point for my continued examination of the role of society and my upbringing in my feelings of shame."
The only other book I'd seen that was at all like this was only photographs, with the only text being written by the photographer himself, not by the people whose bodies were photographed, which struck me as problematic, especially since the person doing that book didn't have a vulva himself. I thought the stories added so very much to the table that I wanted to hear a bit more of what Wrenna thought about them.
Wrenna said that, "The stories bring such an important depth to the book. As women began submitting their stories, I felt more and more amazed at the power of the book. It evolved into something of our collective creation, far greater than I could have imagined or created on my own. The stories serve to connect the reader with the person represented by the photos, to relate to the model through shared experiences, and to grow through new and deeper understanding. I continue to go through the book and read the stories, and new revelations continue to emerge. I hope the stories encourage discussion and sharing among friends, set up the understanding that these topics are okay to speak about, provide a starting place for such discussions. A book of photos would certainly be valuable, but the accompanying stories make this essential reading for all women. And while I see the stories as vital to the book, the stories alone would not have same impact as when couple with the photos. The book is about shedding the impropriety of displaying one’s genitals, about being courageous enough to look at other women’s bodies without feeling shame."
When Wrenna and I talked on the phone, she told me about how her expectations of her co-workers were not sound. She’d expected them to feel very comfortable about participating in the project, as people who share their bodies and performance of sexuality for their living, and was very surprised to find that that wasn’t at all the case. We often hear young women voice that they are so, so very sure that women in sex work and pornography must be more comfortable with their bodies than anyone. I’ve known myself that wasn’t a sound assumption at all, and I think Wrenna’s experiences with women in those fields with this book illustrate that well:
"When I first conceived of the idea, I imagined the book would feature strippers alone. I knew many, and I assumed that each would be willing to take part. I thought it would send a strong message to those with body-issues - that women with diverse body types are all able to make money and be appreciated for their unique and beautiful bodies. I was quite surprised to discover that most of the strippers I asked to take part said no. Reflecting on this, I came to recognize that strippers, often admonished for setting unrealistic expectations in other women, are in fact among those most influenced by societal expectations of bodily “perfection”. These women, as a group, tend to undergo a disproportionate number of cosmetic procedures, highlighting their own insecurities and perceived deficiencies."
She then talked about who did participate in the book, how she found those participants and how it was working together: "Instead of photographing only strippers, I sought participants throughout Vancouver and the surrounding area by utilizing social media, presenting at universities and colleges, displaying posters where I could. The response was incredible, and the range of women who responded allowed for a book with a greater breadth of experience and age than I would have captured by limiting the project to strippers alone. Most of the women were strangers to me, so we met at a coffee shop nearby Katie Huisman’s studio. The immediate connection and openness I shared with each of the women was incredible. I recognized that women truly long to speak openly about these issues, really want to make change and help others, but are rarely provided with a venue to do so. I was so lucky to be able share in the experience with each model - for some a pivotal moment in their lives. I got to witness firsthand how difficult it is for many women to share this part of themselves, even in a non-sexual, fully consensual way. I was able to witness the transformation that occurred so quickly in so many of them. Katie is such a wonderful, professional photographer that she made the shoot very comfortable for each woman, and numerous ended the shoot remarking that it was far easier than they had anticipated."
Wrenna, Katie, and eight of the women who are part of this book have very generously given us the rights to reprint some of these photos and personal stories. Over the next two months, once a week we'll be sharing a different set of photos and the accompanying worlds of the woman in them here in the blog. Most of the women whose photos and stories we are reprinting have also offered to take part in a conversation in the comments with anyone who wants to talk with them about their experiences and their feelings about their bodies. We hope that being able to talk directly with some of them can help some of you to be involved in some of the earnest, supportive conversations about genital appearance you might not be finding anywhere else yet. We are greatly looking forward to sharing all of this with you, and can't thank all of these women enough for being willing to do such a cool thing with us here.
Because we do understand that not everyone looks at this site at home, for each of these entries, we will put the story first, and then follow with the photographs beneath, with a reminder right at the top of the page that it contains photos of vulvas.
So, stay tuned! We really look forward to sharing some of this excellent book with you, and encourage you to get your hands on a copy to take a look, and have one for yourself, or for anyone else in your life who you think could benefit, whether that's about dispelling shame and negativity or celebrating an already-awesome vulval self-image.
Depending on your view, the answer to that question might seem really obvious or very tricky and hazy.
This is a subject that's talked about all the time, however, when it is, there's often little to no clear definition about what healthy sexual development is. Many easy assumptions get made, and ideas about what's healthy for all people are often based in or around personal agendas, ideas and personal experiences of sexuality, rather than being based in broader viewpoints, truly informed and comprehensive ideas about all that human sexuality and development involves and real awareness of possible personal or cultural bias.
We think this question is very, very tricky and that the answers aren't at all obvious or easy: sexuality is incredibly complex, especially given its incredible diversity, not just among a global population, but even within any one person's lifetime. Our cultures also are often sexually unhealthy in many ways, and so ideas about healthy sexual development, deeply influenced by culture, are often flawed, incomplete or limited, and can sometimes present things as healthy which truly are not, but are so pervasive or so much a part of cultural frameworks that people assume they are or must be. So, what healthy sexual development is is hardly a simple question, nor a question we can answer casually or without a whole lot of deep thought and consideration, both ideally coming from multiple perspectives and kinds of expertise.
At a recent conference I was part of in London, Alan McKee presented a talk which included a piece published in the International Journal of Sexual Health (2010, 22(1), Healthy sexual development: a multidisciplinary framework for research, Alan McKee, Kath Albury, Michael Dunne, Sue Grieshaber, John Hartley, Catharine Lumby and Ben Mathews). As someone who's worked for many years in sexuality and sex education, and who worked in early child development for several years before that, I've heard "healthy sexual development" tossed around a lot, but have often felt dissatisfied with the way it was undefined or some of the things it has implied when people have used it. Often, critical pieces seem to be missing, personal agendas seem to be central and unrecognized, or the way it's defined hasn't been broadly inclusive, holistic or thoughtful.
What McKee and his colleagues determined to be the core parts of healthy sexual development had me jumping up and down in my seat with joy (literally: I may have disturbed my fellow attendees with my bouncing). It summed up the things we try to support, encourage and inform our users with and keep core at Scarleteen so well, and so much of what I think -- after many years of thinking hard about and working with these issues, and being fully and broadly immersed in them with a very diverse population -- truly is central to healthy sexual development.
Their work also makes it wonderfully clear that sex education and supporting healthy sexual development isn't just something that can or does happen in what we call sex education, but can -- and should! -- be present in and come from many different kinds of education, information and support. Not only do I think this list includes the key issues for the development of healthy sexuality for individuals, I think it's also an excellent framework for working towards cultures which are sexually healthier than most are and have been.
I'm delighted to have permission to excerpt and reprint this framework here. I believe the domains listed are benchmarks everyone can use whether we're providing sex education, parenting or mentoring, evaluating the health of our sexual interactions or relationships with others, or working on our own personal growth and well-being when it comes to our sexuality. I've included alternate ways of understanding the key points and also some links to get started with on our site in exploring ways of supporting these aspects of healthy sexuality at the end.
From the paper: "A consultative group was gathered consisting of seven Australian experts across a number of disciplines relating to children, development and sexuality. The group included a psychologist specialising in preventing child sexual abuse; an early childhood expert; a legal expert in children’s rights; a specialist in sexuality education; experts on sexual socialisation; and on the media’s impact on children’s development. The group commissioned literature reviews of the research on children’s sexuality across their disciplines; and worked together to develop a consensual definition of healthy sexual development that drew on the insights of their various disciplines."
"One key point emerged early in the discussions: this would be a holistic approach to healthy sexual development. In much of the literature in this area the sole concern is the prevention, diagnosis and treatment of child sexual abuse (see for example Haugaard & Emery, 1989; Lamb & Coakley, 1993; Ryan, 2000). The group agreed that preventing unwanted sexual encounters is a key element of healthy sexual element – but it is far from being sufficient for an understanding of the important elements in that development. There is more to healthy sexual development than simply preventing abuse. Important positive skills and understandings must be developed. We identified fifteen key domains which provide a multidisciplinary framework for understanding healthy sexual development:
Healthy sexual development takes place in a context in which children are protected from unwanted sexual activity (Haugaard & Emery, 1989; Sanderson, 2004). This is a fundamental point. Its complexity must also be acknowledged. Hence the second point is:
Healthy sexuality is not coercive (Wardle, 1998; Ryan, 2000; Chrisman & Couchenour, 2002; FPQ, 2006). And so children need to understand the nature and complexity of consent – not just their own, but also other people’s – in sexuality. They need to learn about the ethics of human relationships, and how to treat other people ethically.
In other words: Healthy sexual activity is only activity that is truly wanted by anyone and everyone directly involved in it. Consenting and acquiring consent, and the freedom to withhold or withdraw consent, always; knowing what consent really means and involves for everyone are key to healthy sexual development and to a healthy sexuality and sex life.
In healthy sexual development, children are provided with accurate information about how their bodies work. Research has shown that ‘[i]n the absence of adequate and systematic sex education, children invent their own explanations for biological and sexual processes often in the form of mythologies’ (Goldman & Goldman, 1982, p. 392).
In other words: This means things like accurate words for body parts, science and fact-based explanations of how bodies can or do function not just around sexual reproduction, but also around sex itself and the debunking of mythologies about bodies, sexuality and reproduction.
In healthy sexual development, children learn what is safe sexual practice. This is meant in the widest possible sense, including physical safety, safety from sexually transmitted diseases (Allen, 2005, p. 2), and safety to experiment.
In other words: It's vital to know about safer sex, preventing or reducing the risk of injury, illness and other harm, and how to explore sex and sexuality in ways which are known and shown as most likely to be physically and emotionally safe.
In healthy sexual development, children learn relationship skills more generally. This includes, but is not limited to, communication and assertiveness skills. Children learn to ask for what they want assertively in relationships generally. At an appropriate point this also includes sexual relationships (Impett et al, 2006).
In other words: Part of everyone's sexuality involves interpersonal relationships, whether that's about sexual relationships expressly, or any relationship in which someone's sexuality may be addressed. Learning what is and is not healthy in all relationships -- including family relationships, friendships, interactions with healthcare providers or people outside those spheres -- is a big part of learning what is healthy in sexual relationships.
Emerging from the previous point, in healthy sexual development children learn that they are in control of their own sexuality, and in control of who can take sexual pleasure from their bodies. They are confident in resisting peer pressure. They understand their rights. They learn to take responsibility for making their own decisions (SIECUS, 1995).
In other words: Sexual agency is about having and being afforded ownership of one's body and sexuality, not being externally controlled by others. This includes freedom from unwanted sexual activity and sexual coercion. Agency also means that we're the owners of our own actions and choices. With real agency, we are both held accountable and responsible for them and are allowed the liberty of having ownership for the choices we make.
Every researcher who has studied the healthy sexual development of children insists that children are naturally ‘curious’ about their bodies and about sex (Sanderson, 2004: 62). Studies over many decades have shown that they explore their bodies – including touching and sometimes masturbating their genitals – from birth (Levy, 1928; Ryan, 2000; Larsson & Svedin, 2002b); they ask questions about sex at the same time as they begin to ask questions about other aspects of society (Hattendorf, 1932; Larsson & Svedin, 2002); and they play ‘sex games’ like doctors and nurses with other children from an early age (Isaacs, 1933; Lamb & Coakley, 1993; Chrisman & Couchenour, 2002; Larsson & Svedin, 2002b; Sandnabba et al, 2003). Research has shown that this behaviour is not only normal, it is healthy and has no harmful effect on later sexual development (Kilpatrick, 1992; Greenwald & Leitenberg, 1989; Leitenberg et al, 1989; Okami et al, 1998; Larsson & Svedin, 2002b). Similarly, learning about sexuality does not stop at the point where (or if) sexual intercourse begins. Adults continue to learn about their sexuality throughout their lives, improving their knowledge of and attitudes towards their sex lives.
In other words: Being curious about sexuality and wanting to explore it needs to be understood and presented as healthy and acceptable. Exploring sexuality in healthy ways is also learning about sexuality, and that learning, and feeling open to always learn more, is part of our sexual well-being throughout all of life.
There is a necessary element of risk in all learning. This is also true of sexual learning (Chrisman & Couchenour, 2002, p. 3). In healthy development, children develop agency in order to facilitate resilience, so that bad sexual experiences are opportunities for learning rather than being destructive.
In other words: Sometimes sex can suck, doesn't meet our expectations or things happen to us or by us sexually which are painful or traumatic. In order to be as healthy as we can, we need resilience so that we can deal with and/or heal from disappointment, embarrassment, harm or trauma, rather than being unable to recover or move forward in our lives and sexualities.
Healthy sexual development requires open communication between adults and children, in both directions. As noted above, this means that children are provided with age-appropriate information about sex (SIECUS, 1995), and particularly that they are given honest answers to any questions they may ask (Chrisman & Couchenor, 2002). There is absolute agreement in the literature that this is important for preventing sexual abuse (Krafchick & Biringen, 2002, p. 59; Sanderson, 2004, p. 55), development of a healthy attitude towards their own bodies and sexuality (Chrisman & Couchenour, 2002, p. 14; Impett et al, 2005), and preventing unwanted pregnancies and STDs when they do become sexually active (Lindberg et al, 2008). On the other hand, in healthy situations, children feel comfortable in coming to adults with problems, concerns or issues they may have about their bodies or what is happening to them.
In other words: Healthy sexuality doesn't and can't often happen in a culture or environment of silence. Talking about sex and sexuality openly and honestly is part of developing healthy sexuality and healthy sexual development, both with peers and and with parents, guardians and other adults, and also part of reducing the risk of sexual harms or negative outcomes.
This is a key distinction between healthy and unhealthy sexual development. Healthy sexual development is ‘fun’, playful and lighthearted (Okami et al, 1998, p. 364). Unhealthy sexual development is aggressive, coercive or joyless (Sanderson, 2004: 79).
In other words: It's not healthy for anyone to be pushed into or away from sexual development: both should happen at a pace that's right for each individual. As well, ideally sexual development is something that others support as being okay, something people experiencing it can feel relaxed about and even have fun with and enjoy.
In healthy sexual development children are supported in developing a positive attitude towards their own sexual identity (Impett et al, 2006); and a ‘positive body self concept’ (Okami et al, 1998, p. 363).
In other words: Part of sexual well-being is accepting who we are, uniquely, and feeling accepted in who we are, even if and when our sexuality, sexual identity, embodiment or the ways we are sexual does not conform to someone else's ideas of what our sexualities should be or what our bodies should feel, look or function like.
Children learn to understand that it is acceptable for sexuality to be pleasurable in healthy development (SIECUS, 1995; WHO, 2002, p. 5). It is not shameful to enjoy it. It is a desirable outcome that when they become adults they will have to option of enjoying satisfying and high quality sexual relationships should they choose to do so (Okami et al, 1998, pp. 361, 365).
In other words: Sex isn't just about making babies, something people only do because someone else wants or expects them to or something to exchange in order to get something else. It's also about pleasure. In fact, when sex (of any kind, including masturbation) is truly wanted and consensual and when it occurs in healthy social contexts where everyone involved has agency, it's most often mostly about pleasure. Seeking or experiencing sexual pleasure isn't something to be ashamed of or embarrassed about: it can be a healthy, happy part of life.
In healthy development, children learn social and parental values around sexuality to enable them to make informed decisions about their own sexuality in relation to them. These vary greatly (WHO, 2006: 6). Research shows that parental values around sexuality range from extremely conservative to extremely liberal (Okami et al, 1998), and that judgments about what is appropriate sexual behaviour in children differ dramatically in different societies (Aries, 1962; Higonnet, 1998; Jenkins, 1998).
In other words: Whether we wind up agreeing with them or not, it's important we understand the values and ethics of our world and our closest communities, including those within our families. When we are aware of and understand those well, we can inform our choices with them and also work out what our own values are, whether they're the same or different from the values of our parents or our culture.
xiv. Awareness of public/private boundaries.
As a particular subset of values, children learn how the public/private distinction works in their culture as part of healthy sexual development. This allows them to manage their own privacy, understand public behaviour, and how to negotiate the boundaries between the two (Larsson & Svedin, 2002; Sanderson, 2004, p. 60).
In other words: A healthy sexuality involves boundaries, including boundaries between public and private expressions of sexuality, even though all people don't have the same boundaries. As well, how we present our sexuality and put it into action often is different when it's public and when it's private, both in our individual experiences and when it comes to how we are treated by others. To make sound choices about sexual behavior and expression, choices which include keeping ourselves and others safe, we need to be aware of the differences between what's public and what's private.
xv. Competence in mediated sexuality.
In healthy sexual development, children will develop skills in accessing, understanding, critiquing and creating mediated representations of sexuality in verbal, visual and performance media (Higonnet, 1998; Hartley & Lumby 2003; Buckingham & Bragg, 2004; Ward et al, 2006; Mazzarella & Pecora, 2007; Lafo, 2008).
In other words: Everyone knows that there is (as there always has been) sex and sexuality in all kinds of media. The media is a big presence in our world, especially over the last couple decades, so it's important that we learn how to make sense of and ask questions about what we see, hear or read in it so that we can have a sense of its impact on us and others and know the difference between what the media shows us and how it presents it and how different sexuality can be and often is in real life.
Want to find out about some of those key domains right here at Scarleteen? The following articles are some good places to get started:
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