How can we expect the world at large to love us when we can’t even love the body organ that birthed us? Without the vagina there would be no gay men. There wouldn’t be any men period. At our very most shallow, can’t we at least love the vagina for bringing all these beautiful men into the world?
Gay life is rife with anti-vagina humor. If I had 10 cents for every time I heard a gay man making a "fish" joke I wouldn’t be waiting tables. When pairing "vagina" and "gay man" in the same thought, I picture a scrunched up nose and an ugly grimace. It is said that we fear the unknown. Should homophobes apply the same reasoning, we’d balk at their ignorance.
I must admit that the vagina did make me uncomfortable. Unwittingly I ended up on a porn site with a rather detailed and close-up photo of a woman with her legs spread. My initial reaction was that of repulsion. After a few moments, I stopped to ask myself why exactly I felt a negative reaction to this photo. The vagina is as natural as water, sunlight, wind, and the penis. What was it about myself that made me unable to admire all of the beautiful creations of Mother Nature? To hate the vagina is to hate my existence.
Sociology points out how similar groups adopt similar speech patterns and mannerisms. Where in the history of gay men did the hatred of the vagina begin? And today do we really hate it, or do we just think we do because our gay forefathers (or the first drag queen we ever saw live) made a malicious pussy joke?
As of now, I will never show disrespect to the vagina again. From hereon in, I regard the vagina the same way I view Thai food. It’s simply not what I choose to eat, but I certainly can understand and respect why someone else would find it delcious.
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