Qualms about Quims?
Jeff Bridges winces at the offending word, before succumbing to perplexity over Julianne Moore’s use of "johnson". A typically off the wall piece of ‘Coenism’, from ‘The Big Lebowski’, which I was surprised to see reiterated in drag in the Guardian review section, masquerading as worthy piece of criticism on a worthy book about a worthy subject – the gender defining crevice.
In ‘The Story of V – Opening Pandora’s Box’, Catherine Blackledge puts out her contribution to the debate which addresses at length the point more suscinctly cadenced in the opening quotation. Why, she asks, when it comes to the penis (its assorted monicers, physical functions and comparative attributes) are we happy to let it all hang out, yet we remain so up tight about our vaginas?
Apparently twas not ever thus. According to Blackledge in the past the vagina has held mythic and divine symbolism for more than just randy adolescents. The review mentions stories of such holy holes exorsizing demons in India and increasing crop yields in ancient Egypt. The vagina has therefore slipped out of mind and into taboo in part, it seems, due to its lack of actual prominence. This seems intuitive at first. Linford Cristie’s display of lycra clad longevity at the Barcelona Olympic games left so little to the imagination that it is remembered still. Athletics fans, however, have never enjoyed comparable intimacy with, for instance, Sally Gunnell’s tunnel.
So is that it? Can our cultural reticence about all things vulval and labial be fairly attributed to their being tucked away between the legs, while the front hanging wang holds its head high? Has losing the battle of the bulge turned British women into breathing barbie dolls, apparently devoid of genitalia?
Not quite. Apparently in the cut and thrust world of private part supremacy he who hairs wins, or rather she who hairs loses. Blackledge complains of "cunt caricatures" based on "shaven havens" becoming normalised by porn. But in this Ms Blackledge is wrong. For such a "phenomenal researcher" (as reviewer Joanna Briscoe describes her) she has overlooked that fundemental tool of sex organ enlightenment – the internet. Mere seconds on google yielded megamuff.com, laying bare her pussy prejudice and revealing greater diversity than she seems prepared to credit such "top shelf material."
Whilst sat in a public house, engaged in private conversation, a friend of mine once slipped the word cunt nonchalontly into the proceedings. A nearby customer actually froze and looked over (the remark had not been addressed to them, they were an extraneous party). Blackledge seems to be vindicated, had the word been dick, rod or johnson, my companion and I would probably remain unmolested by their disaprobation. I wonder, however, if the same would not be true had the word been fanny or even pussy. I also suspect that my repetition of cunt in this article has shocked very few who have read it, so how prudish are we on this topic?
Assuming that none of you display yours in public for agricultural purposes the answer is less so than the ancient Egyptians but that’s not a great point of reference, there are still people embarrased by the topic but actually very few that I know. This is fundementally an issue of gender equality, the preserve of the ‘Vagina Monologues’, the popularity and success of which is undeniable, suggesting that, even if castle cunt is not yet recaptured, then at least its walls have been penetrated.
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