Do you use the term to refer to the complete set of female genitalia, or are you more specific?
There’s really no need to discuss what kind of Googling I was doing to have come across this article.
All that’s important is that it got me thinking: Although I am well aware of the proper name for each part of my girl-specific anatomy, I don’t use any of those terms. I pretty much use “coochie” to encompass the whole package.
I’ve always thought that if for some reason I’m ever in a position to be raising a child/children, I would make a point of teaching them the proper terms for female genitalia. When I was a kid, pretty much everything below my waist that shouldn’t be shown in polite company was referred to as my “fanny” by my grandmother, and . . . just went sort of unnamed by my mother (who used terms like “down there” and such) while my male cousins had just plain penises. Sure, once I started school, boys had “weenies” and “ding dongs” (that one still cracks me up–and while we’re at it, why were the penises of my childhood given nicknames associated with food?), but according to the women who raised me, boys still had penises, while I had a “fanny”.
Anyway, am I somehow falling into the same trap I thought I’d escaped by referring to my whole kit-n-caboodle as a “coochie”? A worse trap, since “coochie” is not a technical term of any sort? What term(s) do you use? What do you teach your kids (if you have them)?
I’ve always referred to parts of the body by their correct name when speaking to the kids.
Now when talking to my friends that’s a different story.
I call it my box, my china, cootchie, pussy, beaver, cunt, special place, flower and I think that about sums it up. Pretty disgusting huh?
So Isabelle, do you actually use specific terms like “vulva” and such . . . ?
For example, if your daughter asked you why you kept scratching your crotch, would you say, “I shaved my vagina and now the hair is growing back,” or would you say, “I shaved my mons veneris and my labia, and now the hair is growing back . . . ?”
The point of the article seems to be that even the typical use of the word “vagina” is somewhat oppressive.
Well, if we’re using technical terms, Bruce Daddy, the means by which a 3-year-old would even be able to determine the size of my vagina would make me a very, very, very, very, very bad person. :eek:
I got some great books for my kids (boys and girl) and the best one I got was …damn the name escapes me. Anyway the book describes vulva, clitoris, labia, penis, scrotum, etc… and goes into detail for kids with great pictures.
Oh Oh I think the book is called “Everything’s Normal”
It even shows you the body parts from the time you are an infant until you turn age 90. (By 90 everything was sagging)
Anyway I just used the proper word for whatever I was describing. I must admit when it came to bringing up the boys I didn’t discuss in such great detail as I did with my daughter.
A few weeks back my 13 year old told me he had blood in his urine. I did research on the web and found some horrible illnesses he could have so I rushed him to the doctor. He did not want me to go in with him. Since its a female doctor I figured I would respect his privacy.
After the doctor was done she talked to me in private. She said there is no blood in his urine. There is blood in his seman.
So it really bugged me that my son felt he coulnd’t come clean with me. I thought I was pretty open discussing things with him.
I’ve got 3 boys and talk to them about their penis and testicals. Kinda glad for the narrower scope of body parts to name to them when they say “what’s that?” “what’s this?”
I’v long thought that the “correct” terminology for our genitalia (including the word genitalia) was displeasing to the ear.
Such klutzy, unattractive, clumsy souding words. Must be the reason so many people name their genitals some “cutsey” nickname or 'nother.
But at any rate, yes, I’ve always applied the term “vagina” to the proper part of the woman’s genitals. If I’m FORCED to and it’s a situation where I can’t use something that sounds better.
So Canvas shoes, what do you say for the rest of the parts? And if you’re NOT forced to use the term vagina, what do you say? Love Tunnel? Baby Chute?
Heh. When my cousin was about six, his parents had a baby girl. So as not to leave him out of the whole baby scene, they showed him how to change her diapers, including how to properly clean her up with the baby wipes.
He, in turn, “taught” me (I was in college by then). He was lecturing me on the importance, during the baby wiping process, of “getting in the lips”, as his mother had shown him. Then he stopped, suddenly, as he was hit with an extremely pertinent conundrum: “If girls have lips,” he asked me, “what do boys have . . . a tongue?”
“Uhhhh . . . something like that,” I replied, in all of my college-aged wisdom.
I pretty much use the correct terms, though I guess for the shaving example I would probably refer to it as “the bikini area” like the shaving commercials do. I certainly wouldn’t ever refer to the outer genitalia as the vagina, probably vulva for that.
I have two daughters, a three year old and a two month old. Obviously the two month old isn’t interested in much except for eating, sleeping, and pooping but the three year old , being three, is a very verbal, very curious little girl. Right now she refers to everything covered by her underwear as her “bottom”, but I don’t think it will be too long before she starts asking for more information.
So what should I tell her? “That’s your vulva?” I think when I was very young I called the entire area “vagina” … I suppose another issue will be what her friends’ mothers have taught them, I can just see myself telling her “That’s your vulva” and her saying “NO, that’s my coochie! Mandy told me that.” Hmm, I suppose I better address this before they do, eh?
I’m with you on that one. For some reason, my folks thought it was a good idea to saddle us kids with a bizarre “birdie/flower” dichotomy for male & female genitals – and then freak out when my older brother started referring to his penis as his “flower” instead of his “birdie,” as would be right and natural. Way to encourage the use of unecessarily confusing terminology for something people tend to take twenty years or so to really get the hang of, as it is.
On a side note, Jimmy Pop Ali from the Bloodhound Gang mentioned the same problem when he was on Loveline. He said the doctor told him there was nothing wrong, he just had… “violent orgasms”.
Sheesh!! I’ve been working REAL hard just to force myself not to call it “down there”. (sheepish grin).
I have had a tendency to be excrutiatingly shy regarding sex, until actually IN the “heat of the moment” so to speak. It’s been a long hard road (heh, she said hard), learning to open up, not turn red at the drop of a hat (or pair of pants) etc.
But to tell you the truth? The disliking the technical terms for genitals isn’t just because they’re, well, genitals. It’s just one of those quirky things people sometimes have. There are just certain words, not necessarily sex related, that just “bug” me because they’re ugly words.
I’ve told this story before, but it’s one of my favorite child stories.
Before I ever had a child, I heard a friend’s toddler tell her mommy that her bottom hurt. Her mother sweetly asked, “Is it your front bottom or your back bottom?” As a result, from the very beginning, I always made a point of naming all the parts correctly for my older daughter. She was an early talker, and she started communicating pretty effectively with people outside the family by the age of two. At that age, she was also still somewhat resistant to toilet training, but she hated to be cleaned up when she had a dirty diaper.
All of these factors came together one day. As I approached the church nursery after services, I heard my little angel screaming, “Don’t wipe my vulva! Don’t wipe my vulva!” at the horrified teenaged attendant. In retrospect, “front bottom” didn’t seem so bad. Nevertheless, both of my daughters know the correct terms for every part of their bodies.
And if one of my children asked me why I was scratching, I’d say, “Because I itch.” I don’t believe I’d go into details about just why I was itching.
