Marcus Williams wishes our earliest sexual vocabulary acknowledged that boys and girls both have interesting parts, not just a penis and the place where penises want to go.
In a recent GMP article titled “What’s in a Name: Vaginas, Clitorises, and Bravery”, Maria Pawlowska noted how people are much more at ease discussing male reproductive anatomy than female reproductive anatomy, and how that inhibits open, constructive discussion of female sexuality. I agreed with Maria, but I felt like the article was missing that Good Men Project hook until I got to Andrew’s comment, which read, in part:
But I think there is some genuine confusion around the whole nomenclature … and I’m afraid to say that I think everyone talking about vaginas adds to the confusion. I’ve got a two year old daughter and she and her older brother talk (correctly, I think) about his penis and her vulva. Inside, there is the vagina, also a cervix and a uterus etc, but when she’s talking about her “bits” (sorry) shouldn’t it start with the vulva?
I’m with Andrew. Whatever the reasons for that comfort gap in discussing reproductive anatomy, I don’t think just saying vagina more will solve much. It puts the focus in the wrong place—not a dirty or shameful place, but a place that sums up a girl’s genitals by referring to a part she can’t see and most likely won’t touch as a young child, while the parts she could be learning about or understanding more directly are left un-named and un-discussed. By calling it all vagina, girls (and boys) are often kept from even knowing that there are other parts there.
As Arnold Schwartzenegger was famously reminded by a young child in Kindergarten Cop, the first lesson that many of us learn about what distinguishes the genitals of boys and girls is this: girls have a vulva and boys have testicles. Here’s the classic scene in case you don’t remember it:
Wait a sec. I guess I misquoted it. Boys have a penis and girls have a vagina. That’s the way we’re used to hearing it, not just in Kindergarten Cop, but as the most basic way of explaining the difference between boys and girls.
It’s true that boys and girls each have those respective things, but why is the default to name a part of the boy that’s easily visible, while top billing for the girls goes to a part that many will never even see? If the usual penis/vagina nomenclature was inverted to cloak the boys and de-cloak the girls, then we would say girls have vulvas and boys have testicles. It’s just as accurate, but by linguistically tucking away the boy parts while exposing the girls’, it sounds weird, right? There’s probably some deep argument about shaming and patriarchy in there, but I’m not the one to make it. In my own little corner of the linguistic universe, though, I attempt to use a more balanced vocabulary that acknowledges seen and unseen parts of both boys and girls, and does not limit discussion of the female parts to that one part where most penises eventually want to go.
I’m a father to twin toddler daughters, and hoping against hope, I would love for them to grow up with positive body images and knowing what all their parts are—from the parts all humans have to the parts unique to their sex. Their education has proceeded in the usual way, starting with them as babies, pointing out each others’ ears, nose, hands, etc. (I don’t have to name all the parts, since you should know them by now.) I give most of the baths, so when I’m washing or drying their bodies and identifying body parts to reinforce the concepts, I always include vulva in the litany. “We’re drying your feet, your calves, your thighs, your bottom, your vulva, your tummy, your shoulders …”
I don’t say vagina yet, because even though they both have one and will eventually learn about it, I want them to know the right name for the part they can see and feel. When they see Daddy getting out of the shower, or going potty (in the interest of role modeling for potty training), I tell them that dangly thing is my penis. I don’t yet go into the accompanying parts and internal workings, so why should I start with vagina for them? It would be like pointing to my penis and calling it a urethra.
Even as I stubbornly favor the more precise terminology by teaching my girls about vulvas before vaginas, it feels a little strange because I know it’s not the way most people start out. I even wonder if down the road, I’m setting them up to be teased or feel embarrassed because none of the other boys and girls seem to know what a vulva is but they’ve all heard of vaginas. At the same time, I’m determined to help them avoid the kind of unfamiliarity with their own bodies that led one of my former girlfriends to believe her urine exited through her clitoris. Her anatomical education hadn’t gone much further than knowing she had a vagina, and that the clitoris was like a female penis, so naturally that’s where her pee must come out.
Sex education at the toddler level is still pretty easy, because it’s not really about sex—it’s still just naming body parts. My hope, though, is that by being direct and matter-of-fact about genitals now instead of creating some aura of mystery or shame about them, we’re laying a foundation of vocabulary and attitude that will eventually make the actual sex education easier when they’re ready for it. Chances are, my blueprint for sex education will have to be scrapped as reality sets in, but on top of that foundation, I hope to build a functional understanding of what those parts do, so by the time my daughters are old enough to care or wonder about the more complicated aspects of sex—pleasure, desire, ethics, responsibility, etc.—it won’t be like walking into a dark, scary room with an ominous sign over the door warning, “Vagina: Keep Out.”
—Photo joethedork/Flickr
Hooray! I, too, think this is a good distinction to make–for me, it’s in large part just because I feel otherwise so helpless in the face of the appalling lack of knowledge and understanding most women have/are given about their own bodies. Which is not to say that men necessarily understand their inner workings much better, particularly when it comes to reproduction, but the only thing we can do about it is start being more honest and more precise about what’s happening there. A woman’s reproductive system, parts and hormones all included, is complicated enough without even knowing the right… Read more »
Reminds me of a Seinfield quote:
“That thing was swelled up like a giant catchers mitt.”
Good laugh there.
Well now I know what my next Halloween costume will be.
I think part of the problem is that our vocabulary still often puts the penis at the center of things, and tends to think about reproductive organs as the penis and the place where the penis goes. We also have that whole “opposite sex” mindset that sees male and female as opposites of each other, so it’s natural in that mindset to think of an object and a hole. (Peg and hole are not actually opposites of each other, they’re complementary, and the vaginal canal is not technically a hole, of course, but I digress further.) It keeps things simple… Read more »
I agree, and that’s part of why I dislike the pair of penis/vagina as *first* words to describe those parts. To a young child just learning body parts, whether boy or girl but especially girls, the vagina is really not a relatable or important part yet. The fact that it can accomodate a penis and do other wonderful things will be very important and relevant later in life, but I don’t like how that first lesson frames it as you say – a penis, and that place where penises go. The parts girls can see and touch as children are… Read more »
Good point. The vagina is not really of immediate, age-appropriate notice in terms of what a child sees and touches at a young age. But, it does come up when talking about where babies come from and how babies are made, so it would also be weird to have no mention of it at all. (Of course, in the U.S. a third of all babies come out by C-section, not vaginal delivery, so I’m not sure what to tell a child about that kind of “where they come from.”)
I think you tell them that sometimes it’s hard for mommies to push the baby out of her vagina and thankfully there are doctors who can help get the baby from the uterus in a different way. Based on their age you detail as necessary.
I agree no mention at all would be weird. It’s not like we have an exact timetable mapped out, but I figure there will come a time when it makes sense to explain vaginas, just like they already know where their eyes are but couldn’t tell you where their irises are for a million hockles. (“Hockles” are what my girls call popsicles.) If you think c-sections make the “where babies come from” story complicated, imagine the adventure for parents who have to explain adoption and fertility treatments. (Ideally, I’d like that to be all parents, but I’m realistic.) Some babies… Read more »
Great article Marcus. It’s important that kids know what’s what. I do think that just as we say “eye” for all the parts of an eye, like cornea, sclera, iris and etc, people do probably short cut the genitals. But considering how high the stakes are with sex, I’d err on the side of more ample anatomy info.
Yeah, but that’s sort of like if you called the eye the “pupil”. Vulva is the general term, vagina is the specific.
I agree with the more ample anatomic terms. Give them options.
You beat me to it, Joanna. I was going to reply about two-and-a-half hours ago, and then one of my daughters started puking. 😛
Maybe I’m just showing my ignorance, but I always thought that “vulva” refers to the “external” parts, which includes the visible outside opening of the vagina but not the whole vagina. If it includes the whole vagina, then the vulva means everything up to the cervix?
I thought it was not the same kind of term as “ear,” which includes everything from the lobe to the bones inside the inner ear. Maybe this is meaningless semantics anyway.
You are correct, wellokaythen—the vulva refers to the external parts, including the opening to the vagina, but not the whole thing. I don’t think there is a word, other than “genitals” or something slangish like “crotch” that really describes the whole kitten caboodle, but that’s true for both male and female genitalia. The catch-all word isn’t sex specific. The thing about semantics is that they matter. Semantics is about meaning, so meaningless semantics is an oxymoron. Sure, nitpicking word choice can get silly, and in casual conversation I wouldn’t and don’t nitpick whether someone says “vagina” when I’m sure they… Read more »
What the f**k is a sclera?! J/k. I take your point, and don’t object in principle to a gestalt word to describe a hole (*ahem*) that’s more than the sum of its parts, but it seems to me that in this case, that would still be something like “crotch”, not “vagina”. We wouldn’t call an eye a “retina”, right? I definitely don’t mind slang or informal words, either, for genitals or anything else, but for really understanding female anatomy, I think it’s worth teaching the precise definitions of the words, too, starting with the parts children can see when they’re… Read more »
Thank you! I would loooove to see more men/fathers to be that clear about female anatomy towards their kids!!! Unfortunately most women do know a lot about the male functioning and body parts but men don’t or do only partially (and are pretty insecure about it). When the kids reach the stage of first sexual experiences and/or talking about intimate things (for example: asking your best friend about her period and so on) it would be pretty helpful and could prevent them from frustrating and/or intimidating experiences….
go spread the word!!!
Woot! I’m a 23-year-old man who has long felt exactly the same about the words in question. Clarity, people!
However, I have an anecdotal counterpoint: So far as I can tell, my friends, both male and female, tend to use “vagina” as a synonym for vulva, seemingly unaware of the technical terms here. (Eg, “You could totally see her vagina”, “That cloud looks like a vagina”, etc.)
Yeah, I’m with lenoxus on this. Vagina tends to refer to the whole thing in common parlance.
I agree that’s common usage for “vagina”, but I also think it’s a contributing factor to all-around vaginal illiteracy, which is why I’m rallying around my vulvar flag. Who’s with me!