Currently listening to…
About a year ago, I backed out of an IUD appointment because I’d just started having sex regularly and I was scared that the pain of insertion would set my progress back. Every day since, and especially yesterday morning, I’ve worried that I made a mistake. I scheduled the IUD consultation shortly after I had my first Pap smear. My exam took less than two minutes but that milestone took me over a decade to achieve. It was a surreal moment — one that made me finally feel ready to talk to my doctor about birth control options.
In case you’re new here…
vag·i·nis·mus
noun
painful spasmodic contraction of the vagina in response to physical contact or pressure (especially in sexual intercourse).
So much of my vaginismus treatment was unlearning the conditioned association between penetrative sex and fear of pain. I’m not alone in this. Studies about the categorization of vaginismus are ongoing, but the presence of involuntary muscle spasms as well as deep, psychological fear of pain is so common among vaginismus patients that researchers are divided about including both in the definition of the condition. This is unsurprising considering the harmful ways our society contextualizes sex in conversations with and about young girls.
Save yourself.
Guard your heart.
Don’t cause a man to stumble.
Don’t put yourself in dangerous situations.
Don’t get raped.
Don’t wind up pregnant.
Almost every night I dream about a daughter I don’t have. As I write Hard Things, I think about what I would teach my daughter about sex or more accurately in this context, what I wouldn’t teach her. It’s a grim line to walk. Not educating my daughter about sexual violence would be irresponsible but educating her too much might scare her into a condition like mine. How do you teach a little girl to constantly be aware of her surroundings without chipping away at her blissful, fleeting naïveté? I don’t know if you can.
I’m still in treatment, and I’m slowly coming to terms with the fact that I probably always will be in some capacity. Having penetrative sex didn’t miraculously cure my vaginismus like I believed for so many years that it would. Sex still feels scary sometimes. Today, though, I’m scared for different reasons.
Thumbnail art by @carawrites
I’m terrified thinking about how a forced pregnancy would affect the physical and mental progress I’ve made over the last decade. I’m terrified to conduct myself in a country where my bodily functions are up for debate. Keep in mind, I live in this space. The pipeline from the lack of comprehensive sex education to the lack of accessible healthcare in this country is my bread and butter for Hard Things. Still, I’m shaken.
I’m not writing this post to inspire hope. I’m not going to tell you to rally, donate to abortion funds, or learn the difference between religion and humanity (even though I hope you do all of those things). I’m not going to share statistics about how making abortion inaccessible disproportionately affects victims of domestic abuse and women of color. That discourse has been written, and written well by people a lot more mature in their activism than me.
I’m writing this, first and foremost, to inform. I shouldn’t have to defend all the reasons I might need to access safe, legal abortion but for every woman sharing her circumstances, there are thousands who aren't. Each individual experience is just that: unique, personal, and none of our business. Secondly, I’m writing this for the millions of vaginismic women grappling with the fact that sex was already scary before the overturning of Roe v. Wade and who are now sorting through their diagnosis in a new, dimmer light.
I take parenthood very seriously, which is why I take the right to choose parenthood very seriously. I don’t believe everybody is equipped to raise humans. I want people to be self-aware enough to be discerning about bringing a child into this world because I want them to take parenthood seriously, too.
Lately, when I think about the daughter I don’t have, I think about how important timing is in my decision to have her or not. In this political climate where bodily autonomy isn’t guaranteed, I’d want her to be safe. For now, legal or not, the only way that’s possible is to keep her in my dreams.
Going to try this again.
This was written with such clarity and insightful thought. Women have fought the battle of being led around by either a male or a blind sighted female. Not to say she is wrong in her thought or belief and to say the male who thinks he is the expert on females is right is a farsighted joke. Where was it written the Supreme Court Judges were the know all to be all? If you are a faith-based person, where is that in the Bible? Help mate, not subservient, do as I say female. Excellent piece. I appreciate your train of thought on what seems to be the waterloo for women according to sex experts, ill-informed individuals (men and women) and SCOTUS. Great job!