

Cooter. Beaver. Clams. If you’re like me, these names don’t immediately generate thoughts of the animal kingdom. I get it. Vagina isn’t a sexy word. It’s not even a funny word. There’s no humorous lilt. It’s a flat word with vowels at the end like a failed attempt to make it sound more feminine. “Vagina” sounds like a medical condition, one that could get your life dramatized on a reality show called “I Didn’t Know I Was Vagina” because you once gave birth in a gas station and mistook the tummy flutters for hot dog induced gas.
I was not raised to call a vagina a vagina. I grew up on a tiny island in the Pacific called Saipan in an unassuming house where my devoutly Catholic mother never once referred to the vagina by its name. She would call vaginas “pancakes,” severely impacting how I treated the most important meal of the day. Ruined by this pancake/pancake confusion, I ate sausage instead.
When my mother wasn’t referring to vaginas as pancakes, they were “angels.” As she dropped me off to school, she would advise, “You must protect your angel!” While my vagina was never a member of a rough crowd--we were more of the honor roll type—we weren’t the literal holiest of holies.
To further complicate matters, my vagina and I grew up bilingual. In my native language, the vagina is referred to as a “bebe.” So when I gave birth and my friends here asked me in cheerful tones, “How is your bebe,” they were often confused when I would say, “I don’t think I know you that well,” and even more puzzled by my postpartum weeping of, “Why does it look like that?!”
I know now why my mother and so many other men and women prefer anything else to these three-syllables—va-gi-na. Each phrase brings a tone that “vagina” alone cannot muster because it hasn’t been given a chance. It’s been diminished by misleading and physically impossible phrases like “bearded clams” (which ocean would breed those mutant creatures?) or health-inspection worthy names like “pink tacos” (Don’t we all want our tacos fully-cooked?) But let’s get past all that and call a vagina what it is: a vagina. Not a curtain or an angel, or anything I’ll be ordering for breakfast. Va-gi-na: each syllable a drum beat, a battle cry inciting everyone around to revere and respect the V.
Vagina: do you say it loud and proud or did you grow up with a confusing but beloved euphemism? Did Grey’s Anatomy and Oprah get to you and leave you unable to say anything but Vajayjay with a giggle? And, since anything is better than Cooter, how can we bring vagina back – Justin Timberlake anthem, perhaps?
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Summer’s Eve wants you to trash your vagina euphemisms. Go to facebook.com/summerseve and share the euphemisms you’re ready to trade in to call it what it is - vagina!
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Read Week 1: From Kitty to Vajayjay: Why So Many Euphemisms?
Read Week 2: How to Find Sexy Underwear That Won’t Give You a Wedgie
Read Week 3: Why I Love The Granny Panty
Read Week 4: (Very) Personal Grooming Mishaps
Read Week 5: Top 10 Ways to Decorate Your V
Read Week 6: Why Do So Many Celebrity Ladies Seem To Love To Go Commando?
Read Week 7: I Go to Rio...
Read Week 8: The Tragedy of VPL



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My two younger sisters and I were told that it was our "private place". When we asked what boys had we were told that they had "jobs". Now my sisters and our friends laugh about calling penises "jobs"! I call mine my hoo-ha because it is funny. In high school and college, my friends and I called it our "box" or our "loo".
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