Posts tagged ‘sexual politics’

Naked puffy vagina

My knees were up against my chest. He was on top of me, inside of me, lovely and full of course, but something else, something different, something… an extra frisson. It was Thursday morning. I’d shaved on Saturday — completely. He liked that. He liked the black stockings and the garter belt, too. I like that he likes them, love the little extra gasp that he made when I turned around after unzipping my skirt, letting it fall to the floor. Black lace, black garters, sheer black stockings. A cliche. But flattering. And the gasp. Worth the gasp. Female power.

Worth keeping my shoes on, even, for a few minutes. High heels are easy to hold onto, when you’re pulling your ankle over your head.

This morning, though, five days after the fact, five days after the smooth shave, was different. Shaving carries consequences. Consequences not as dramatic as unprotected sex, perhaps, but consequences nonetheless. Hair removal of all kinds, in fact, carries consequences. At the very least there’s stubble, razor burn. If you shave. If you wax — well, if I wax, I don’t know about those Glamazons on Sex & the City — but if I wax, I end up with a painful, unsightly collection of ingrown hairs. The pale, delicate white skin at the place where my thighs and my torso and my cunt all conjoin, becomes marred by red bumps. It’s not sexy. As my brother-in-law says to his daughter, “You can’t stop the beard.”

I definitely can’t stop the beard. I’m descended from hairy Vikings, hairy Mediterraneans, slightly-less-hairy Celts. I marvel at women who remove all their hair, all the time. Do their lady bits just grow desensitized over time? How is that a plus? And what about the drip factor?

Whenever I think about pubic hair removal, I think about one of the earlier pieces in The Vagina Monologues. It’s a bitter story, told by a woman whose husband was unfaithful, and insisted that she shave her cunt. She talks about her naked puffy vagina, how it made her feel little, like a little girl, to cut all the hair away.

I realized then that hair is there for a reason-it’s the leaf around the flower, the lawn around the house. You have to love hair in order to love the vagina. You can’t pick the parts you want. And besides, my husband never stopped screwing around.

And there is a nakedness, a puffiness to a shaved cooch. It’s missing something. Missing a lawn. A lawn is a good metaphor. The vagina, you know, it excretes things. It has runoff. It’s also like that thing we named after it: a delta, always draining stuff. Fluid moves through it. Without hair, it’s extra tacky, extra sticky. You can’t sleep without your panties on, or the sheets get all funky.

But it’s also extra sensitive, like the back of my head feels when I get my hair clipped close. The lovely feel of a car’s headrest against my smooth, close-clipped scalp. The lovely feel of the water beading at the cleft of my labia majora in the shower, dropping right to the spot where my clit nestles beneath my naked lips.

Naked in the mirror, without hair, utterly open, exposed. Excellent on camera, the curly joining of the lips around a ridiculously large porn-star cock as a woman rides reverse cowgirl, her hipbones like blades, the tendons running from her cunt to her thighs, all hard and plastic and yet still engaging, enthralling. Still the sacred work of sexuality.

And this morning, with a five-day stubble on my lips, the feel of Bran’s cock inside me, and the area around his cock — what do you call that on a man? — the base of his cock, the foothills of his cock, hairy and beautiful and against my skin, I could feel him, feel his skin against mine, extra sensitized and naked and exposed.

“It feels so good,” I gasped.

“Maybe you should do it more often,” he said — meaning shaving.

How easy it is for a woman to give away her power.

November 13, 2008 at 5:10 pm Leave a comment

Found femdom from the diva of pop

Madonna’s new album and the accompanying buzz in the blogosphere has had me reflecting on my own relationship with the diva of pop. The righteous babes at Feministing do an excellent job of summing up my own complicated relationship with this role model from my girlhood. And yes, she was a role model. But I was so clueless about so many things when her first album came out! I was about nine years old, and at the time it was still a toss-up who was going to be a bigger star: Madonna or Cindi Lauper. In many ways, I respect Cindi Lauper’s career more than Madonna’s even though it wasn’t as prolific. I think that Lauper remained more true to who she was; choosing an authentic voice over what will sell in the current zeitgeist requires a tremendous amount of integrity.

But I do admire Madonna as a woman who has always been unafraid to go for exactly what she wants. Her overt sexuality paved the way for other women to come out of the “slut” closet and proudly own the fact that we, too, enjoy sex. But her message is confusing at times.

I remember when “Express Yourself” came out on MTV (yes, once upon a time, Music Television actually showed music videos). I was a sullen drama chick at the time, disdainful of anything remotely mainstream. But twenty years later, the narrative of this piece really stands up on its own. The visuals express in a clear and yet question-raising way the power play inherent in sexual politics. Money, class, gender, and sexuality all bring with them their own kinds of power. It’s important to understand the power of each so that you can decide whether you want to own them, reject them, deny them, or appropriate them for your own purposes.

This was also the first time I saw the sinous muscles of Madonna’s back. Phew. A few years later, I’d realize I was more interested in the singer herself than the hunky guy down in the boiler room sweating away (although I know Bitchy likes that). Twenty years later, I’d realize I was also really, really interested in the woman at the top of the stairs dressed in the traditional trappings of male power.

PS: A tip of the hat to Axe’s awesome collection of found femdom. I could never compete.

May 8, 2008 at 4:41 pm 2 comments


The search for truth, love, beauty, and mind-blowing orgasms

This blog contains sexually explicit material. If you are under 18 or offended by sex-talk, smut, kinksters, liberals, bisexuals, queers, poets, switches, bitches, or outspoken women, it's a free Internet (mostly) and you can go someplace else.

Sign up for email notification of new posts (you don't have to have a WordPress account).

Join 5 other followers


Click here to explore Good Releasing's various lines of adult titles and educational films representing independent artists who create authentic and diverse content.

Feeds