Vaginismus: Changing the Narrative

The homepage of vaginismus.com shows a photograph of a conventionally attractive heterosexual couple on a gleaming white sofa in their gleaming white home. The woman is holding up an iPad; the man is stroking her hair and gazing at her adoringly. Presumably, they’re scrolling through the resources offered by the glossy website, which promises to help women “overcome sexual pain.” Directly below the photograph is a link to the Vaginismus Treatment Kit, which you apparently need to buy if you want to be as happy as the couple in the photo, but you’re struggling to “consummate” your relationship by having penis-in-vagina sex with your partner. Total relationship bliss, the website implies, is just a couple of clicks and $100 away.

Androgyny Trouble

Today, for the second time this month, a stranger got confused about my gender, and left me in a position in which I had to consciously think about the fact that I’m supposed to have a gender, and what that means as a result. It’s an uncomfortable subject to confront.

My relationship with my gender is full of contradictions, and the incident today felt like a prime example. I was walking out of a public bathroom, just as a woman was walking in. When she saw me she stopped, and confusion flickered across her face. She said “oh”, and began to turn around. I made a show of stepping back and gesturing to let her past, thinking I was merely in her way. She did a bit of a double-take, then saw the sign on the door – a stick man and a triangle-skirted woman superimposed on top of each other, indicating that the bathroom was mixed. She seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, and muttered “so it’s unisex”, before strolling on in. A few seconds later I realized she’d mistaken me for a guy. I immediately felt irritated, but I couldn’t figure out why.