I
remember once I was talking to a man called Neil, a friend of a
friend who I was reasonably well acquainted with. We were in a flower
shop, a group of us, we were buying some flowers for someone's
birthday.
Neil
and I were standing next to each other, looking at an orchid. I am
very fond of orchids.
This
one had a dramatic spray of ice-white flowers, freckled deep purple,
rising from a nest of shiny dark-green leaves. It was so beautiful it
made me shiver slightly.
I
looked at the delicate, architectural folds of a single flower's petals, and
I was struck by a thought. I turned to Neil and said: "Isn't it
interesting? Sometimes you can really see that it's true - flowers
are the genitals of a plant."
He
said: "What?" and I said: "It looks like a vagina."
Neil
fixed his eyes on me. His mouth tightened. He was clearly as
disgusted and deeply angry as if I had hit him.
"What
the hell is wrong with you?" he said quietly.
Then
he turned his back on me and walked away. Following that day, he
avoided me, and we never really spoke again.
I've
thought about this quite a lot, and I still can't see why that was an
offensive thing to say. It may be that in Neil's world one does not
talk about genitalia unless it is under very specific circumstances,
in which case I could well have embarrassed him by dropping the
V-bomb in a public place at 10am. But that still doesn't explain why
he reacted with such horrified rage.
The
only conclusion I can come to is that Neil regarded vaginas as
inherently offensive. He didn't understand how you could look at a
beautiful flower and compare it to such a horrid thing, and he
thought anyone who could make that mental connection was a pervert.
The
folds of flower petals do look like the folds of labia (or, if you
want to put it another way, vaginas look like flowers). I find this
visual connection between plant sex - which (whether one pretends
otherwise or not) is what all flowers are - and human sex very
satisfying and beautiful. It feels like a subtle connection, a
reaffirmation of our place in the grand order of nature.
The
only way this resemblance is disgusting and horrifying is if you
think vaginas are disgusting and horrifying. This interests me,
because by Neil's own account - and by all the evidence of his
behaviour - he was a straight man. Before this conversation - if I
had ever thought about it - I would have assumed he would like
vaginas, and generally be pretty unambiguous about approving of them
as a good thing. Clearly this was not the case.
It's
true vaginas are not anywhere near as aesthetically appealing as
flowers. The resemblance is more in the arrangement of petals and the
lines than in the level of beauty, but then penises aren't beautiful
objects either. However, speaking as a straight woman, I do like
penises. I like the way they feel to the touch, warm, the soft skin
above the hard muscle. I like the men they're attached to. I like
just generally having them about.
It
does make me wonder what Neil was like in bed. Horrific, probably.
Lust and revulsion, that's a toxic combination. Wanting to get off,
hating himself for needing it. But he's not alone. One of the saddest
things humanity ever did to itself was the way we have divorced
ourselves from our sexual selves. The way, culturally, we have made
sex into something that's separate from the rest of our world, our
sexual needs into a weakness to be concealed and ashamed of, our
genitals into something disgusting. The way we still marginalise
prostitutes and condemn pornography. We could choose to celebrate one
as a profession and the other as an art form, but that would mean
accepting our sexual needs instead of masking them. Instead we
continue to pretend neither exist, even though both have been present
in our culture for as long as records have existed and will continue
until the extinction of humanity.
Most
people manage to get past this, ignore the cultural cues, and have a
healthy relationship with their libidos. Some of us don't.
Neil
clearly hadn't, and - for different reasons - I haven't either. I am
in what one might define as ongoing peace talks with my sexuality. We
are negotiating a ceasefire. I still hope that one day we can work
together.
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