Listen to Catherine reading from her blog here:
It is International Women’s Day on March 8th. I’m not one to have holiday thinking. I don’t give a shit if masculine folks suspend their misogyny for a whopping 24 hours. Truth is, us women know that after all of those breakfasts in bed society will then expect us to dole out praise for these fleeting acts of solidarity (insert eye roll here). You’re either with us or you’re not. If solidarity isn’t a personal exercise that masculine folks do every damn day, requiring zero percent of my labour, then I give zero fucks. What is better than reifying the unpaid work of women is…well…paying for women’s work.
In forever-long celebration of women, however, I present to you 3 Tales from my Pussy. Remember that a pussy does not a woman make, as my beautiful trans women kin have shown me. This post is not so much about body parts but about how I have moved through this world because of my body, and I happen to call one of my body parts a pussy. Well…I call her Amazing Grace, but that’s another story for another time.
1. Masturbation
When I was 10 years old, I moved from Brampton to Scarborough. This post-war home had one tiny washroom. In the chaos of the move my parents forgot to purchase a shower curtain. My mother handed me the handheld shower head, told me to aim towards my body and not get the rest of the washroom wet. Oh, I aimed, alright. I aimed right at my clit and experienced what felt like a roller coaster ride that I wanted to experience again. And again. And again. My friends, I had the cleanest pussy east of Victoria Park. Hell, maybe in the entire Greater Toronto Area. Of course the rest of me was pretty dirty because I was too busy riding the Body Rocket to Orgasmville. But my pussy was spic and span.
2. Birth
My daughter, who turns 13 this month, exited my pussy into this pussy-hating world after 51 hours of at-home labour. I do not know what the fuck she was doing in there to take so long. She was acting like one of those hotel guests who overstay their welcome to take advantage of the free high speed internet and satellite television. Shit on a stick, that kid took her sweet time. By the end of this ordeal, I was on all fours literally shouting at the opening of money hole telling her to get the hell out.
3.Turkey Neck
I did not know that there was shame attached to long labia until a stripper friend of mine told me that some strippers tuck their labia in order to appear more youthful. Suddenly I was terribly embarrassed by the look of my pussy. How long did they have to be to be considered ugly? A facebook meme helped inform me of this misogynistic standard of measurement. The turkey neck. If it looked like a turkey neck, then you were obviously an old, damaged slut. You obviously did not consider the ramifications of sitting down, walking, wiping and fucking.
All this changed when I visited a sex toy store where a variety of Fleshlights were on sale. If you are not familiar with these sex toys, they are these hand held devices you can penetrate that are moulded in the shape of porn star’s pussies. One of them happened to be modelled after the pussy of Black porn star Misty Stone. It looked exactly like my pussy. My pussy looked like the pussy of someone who is paid to be filmed while fucking! I stood there, with my mouth agape. I picked up the sturdy silicone sleeve like I was King Arthur pulling the sword from the stone and I held it above my head in Lion King fashion. If I had my way I would have stood atop the store counter and shouted at the top of my lungs “Turkey neck is beautiful! Turkey neck is beautiful!”
After that day, I wanted to show everyone my pussy. I realized it is one messy door to mystery. Between birthing joy and giving joy to other people’s bodies, I have one hardworking hole. While most of the world might find my body part cringe worthy, I know now it is worthy of worship. Worthy of respect. Worthy of reverence. Maybe a song or two.
Now if you don’t mind me, I’m going into the shower.
Image source: [stevenringlermd.com]
Catherine Hernandez
Catherine Hernandez is playwright, performer and award-winning author. She is the author of M is for Mustache: A Pride ABC Book (Flamingo Rampant) and Scarborough (Arsenal Pulp Press). She is the Artistic Director of b current performing arts.