Emily Morse Wants You to Think Seriously About an Open Relationship

By David Marchese

For nearly 20 years, Emily Morse has been publicly talking with people about sex. She has done it in intimate, small-group conversations with friends; she has done it on radio and TV and social media; and the sex therapist has done it, most prominently, on her popular “Sex With Emily” podcast. A lot of what she has talked about over the years hasn’t changed: People want to discuss why they’re not having orgasms or their insecurities about penis size or their changing libido. But lately she has noticed something different: There’s a growing desire for more information about open sexual relationships. Indeed, Morse was already late in submitting a draft to her publisher of her new book, “Smart Sex: How to Boost Your Sex IQ and Own Your Pleasure,” when she decided that she needed to add a section on nonmonogamy because she kept being asked about it. “People are realizing,” says Morse, who is 53, “that monogamy isn’t a one-size-fits-all model.”

Why do you think so many people are curious about nonmonogamy these days? People are in therapy more, taking care of themselves and thinking more deeply about their relationships. Now that’s part of the conversation; therapy is no longer stigmatized. That has been a big switch, and when couples get into their feelings and emotional intelligence, they’re realizing: We can love each other and be together, and we can create a relationship on our own terms that works for us. If you are in a long-term committed relationship, it can be exciting to experience sex in a new way that is equitable, consensual and pleasurable but doesn’t take away from the union of marriage.

A term I hear a lot now is “ethical nonmonogamy.”1

1
Broadly, it’s the practice of being romantically or sexually involved with multiple people who are all aware of and give consent to the arrangement.

My sense is that some couples experiment with that because one-half of a relationship feels that things have to open up or the relationship isn’t going to last. But in a situation like that, how ethical is the ethical nonmonogamy? That’s coercion. That’s manipulation. If you say to your partner, “We have to open up, or I’m leaving you” — I don’t feel great about the future of those couples. I can say that there usually is one partner who starts the nonmonogamy conversation. They might say, “I’ve been thinking about it, and our friends are doing it, and what would you think about being open?” They’ll talk about what it might look like and how they would navigate and negotiate it. But if one partner is like, “We should open up,” and the other is like, “I’m shut down to that; it doesn’t work for me,” and then the partner brings it up again and again and the answer is still “No,” then it won’t work. For a majority of people, their first thought is, I never want to hear about my partner having sex with somebody else; that is my biggest nightmare. That’s where most people are. So for nonmonogamy to work, you need to be self-aware and have self-knowledge about your sexual desires and do some work. Maybe we’ll talk to our friends who we know are into it. Maybe we’ll listen to a podcast about it. Maybe we’ll go to therapy. Maybe we’ll take baby steps and go to a play party.2

2
A party where people are free to engage in public sex or kinky behaviors.

But to do it to spice up your relationship is not the reason to do it. Do it because you’re open and curious and understand that your desire for pleasure extends beyond your relationship.

In the book, you say nonmonogamy is not a way to fix a relationship. Why not? The people in successful ethical nonmonogamous relationships have a very healthy relationship to their own sex life and their own intimacy, their own desires. People who are like, Yeah, let’s go find someone else to have sex with, to spice it up — usually those couples don’t have a deeper understanding of their own sex life and what they want from a partner. Another version of that is, “Let’s have a baby!” These drastic things that people do to make their relationship more interesting or to distract themselves from problems usually don’t work. Couples who are successful have rigorous honesty and a deeper knowledge of their own sexual wants and desires.

Emily Morse hosting Gwyneth Paltrow on her “Sex With Emily” podcast in 2021.

What about couples who stay together because their sex life is great but the rest of their relationship is bad? People who have great sex but they can’t stand each other? I think that’s rare. If they’re not connected in other areas and the sex is what’s carrying them, I would want to sit with that couple and find out more. Maybe the relationship is better than they think. But listen, people get to decide what works for them. To me, the most satisfying pleasurable sex is when you have trust and depth and openness and intimacy and communication. If you loathe your partner outside the bedroom? I don’t want to yuck anyone’s yum; I’m sure that situation exists, but I don’t hear about it often.

It’s funny to hear you say you don’t want to yuck anyone’s yum, because in my life — If that’s you, David, in your relationship, that’s awesome! I’m so glad for you and your partner.

No, no. What I was going to say was that I use that phrase with my kids. One will say to the other, “Why are you eating that Jell-O?” or whatever, and I’ll say, “Don’t yuck their yum.” It’s a very different context! Well, that’s a big sex thing, too: You never want to yuck your partner’s yum. This is what comes up with fantasies and arousal and desire. If your partner tells you they want to use a sex toy, and you’re like, “Ew,” it’s hard to recover from that. So don’t yuck the yum if you don’t like Jell-O and if you don’t like anal sex.

You said a second ago that the best sex is about communication and depth and so on, which goes along with ideas in your book about what you call the five pillars of sex IQ,3

3
Which are embodiment (meaning awareness of your self in your own body), health, collaboration (relating to and working with your sexual partners), self-knowledge and self-acceptance.

which are basically all things that also go into being a balanced, healthy person. Obviously sex ties into one’s overall sense of self and well-being, but is there any way in which making it as central as you do also makes it more daunting? Or sets people up for disappointment? Because maybe sometimes sex is just OK, or sometimes it’s disappointing, or sometimes it’s great. Does it always have to be a referendum on one’s holistic well-being? I want people to think deeply about sex, to prioritize sex, to be intentional about sex and to think about it differently than just, I’m going to close my eyes in the dark and hope it works out. The problem is that most people compartmentalize sex. It’s shrouded in mystery. Since it’s so mysterious, people don’t want to talk about it, and they don’t have a lot of information there’s a lot of misinformation. People are surprised every day to learn that maybe they can’t get an erection because they haven’t been working out or because of the food they’re eating. We don’t want to talk about sex unless we get a quick fix. For many years, I was like: Here’s the vibrator! Here’s the sex position! Here’s a quick-fix tip! Tips are great, but because sex becomes such a problem in relationships, I want to give people the tools to say: “I wonder if it’s a problem because I haven’t communicated with my partner lately. Maybe that’s how I can have better sex tonight.” So understanding all the elements to it might help you have more satisfaction. Once people realize this is foundational work that’s going to help you for a lifetime, once it becomes more integrated, it’ll help everybody have more freeing, satisfying sex

What are examples of misinformation about sex? That the most pleasure comes from penetration; that men want sex more than women; that men don’t fake orgasms; that desire stays the same in long-term relationships; if there isn’t desire, it means your relationship should end; that if you don’t have penetrative sex, you’re not really having sex. There’s so many of them, and every day I get hundreds of questions from people who you would think would know better. I have friends who have three children, educated, who are like, “Is the g-spot thing real?”

Can I ask about the ring you’re wearing?

4
It was quite a large ring.

I realize it looks like a vulva.

It does. It’s a vintage ring. At the time I got it, I literally didn’t realize what it looked like until the next day. [Laughs.] But now it’s my magic vulva ring!

What’s the most far-out thing that everyone should be doing? And I don’t mean far-out as in kinkiest. I mean what’s the thing that people are prudish about but need to get over? I think it’s important to masturbate. Solo sex is a great way to understand your body, what feels good. Healthy masturbation is good for people of all ages, in and out of relationships — when you are intentional about it and it makes you feel good, not bad. You don’t want to have shame after. You want to be accepting of your body, feel more in touch with yourself, feel your sexual energy. You can start to understand what turns you on. You know and accept your genitals for how they are today, and you do it without consequences.

Emily Morse at the Macworld exposition in San Francisco in 2007.

On the subject of masturbation: In the book you write about this technique of “Meditate, masturbate” — remind me of the third one? Manifest.

Right. So the idea is that I’m supposed to meditate. Then once I’m in the right head space, I can start masturbating. And at the moment of climax, if I think about the thing I want to happen in my life — “I hope I get that raise!” — then it’s more likely to happen? Yeah. I mean, manifestation is the science behind the law of attraction and all the things you think about when you are in a heightened state. So when you’re meditating, which, I don’t know if you meditate.

I do two out of the three M’s. Two out of three! You’re good! So you meditate for a few minutes, you get in the zone, then you masturbate, and at the height of orgasm, when your sexual energy is at a peak level and you’re at a clear state to transmute whatever you believe into the universe — it’s very potent, clear energy at that moment to think about and feel what it is that you want. It could be about a raise. It could be about a better day. I feel like this is so woo. I’m from California! [Laughs.] But at that moment of your orgasm, if in that moment you can feel what you want, picture it, it has powerful resonance.

But that’s magic. Magic is not real. [Expletive.] I know. I wish I could explain this better to you, the science behind it, but a lot of people have had a lot of success with this feeling. I just think that meditate, masturbate, manifest is basically a way of using your creative energy to fuel your intentions in the moment of pleasure.

What are you working on in your sex life right now? I’m always working on my sex. Research is me-search, as I say. I’m working on staying connected. I love to slow down sex and take time to experience one-way touch.

5
Which in this context means when only one of the partners is offering touch without the expectation that the other will reciprocate.

So having a night where it’s more about giving and receiving. Expanding connection and understanding what feels good is something I’m always working on.

Just to go back to the five pillars of sex IQ: It seems self-evident that if you get healthier, become more self-aware, collaborate more honestly and openly, and if you’re more comfortable in your own body and you accept yourself, you’re more likely to have better sex. So what is your unique insight there? That’s a great question, because, yeah, those are the five pillars for a better life. But if you have a better sex life, you have a better life. So my thing is that you need to take a more holistic approach to your sex life. People don’t realize that all of those things matter. I don’t think these are so groundbreaking. It’s more applying them to sex on a daily basis. What I’m hearing you say is, Don’t people know this? They don’t.

You’re a doctor of human sexuality. I don’t mean this in a glib way at all, but what is that? So, 20 years ago when I was starting this career — and I know the school isn’t there anymore. It’s a whole thing. But I’m fully open about this. I wanted to go back to school and get a degree in human sexuality. In 2003 when I started looking, there weren’t really many places to go, and I wanted to learn more about sex and education. One school was in San Francisco, called the Institute for the Advanced Study of Human Sexuality.6

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The institute operated from the mid-1970s to 2018. In 2017, California’s Bureau for Private Postsecondary Education denied its renewal application to continue operating educational programs. In its decision, the bureau did note that the institute’s faculty and graduates “have produced a well-respected body of research and scholarship.”

A few people I admired highly recommended this school to me. So I did that for three years: an intensive program of learning everything about human sexuality and writing papers and reading everything about sex. That’s where everyone at the time in this space was going to school. Now I think there are other programs. There are some places popping up that I think are a bit better, but not a ton. It’s kind of a newer path.

My understanding is that the school didn’t meet California’s standards for private higher education. I know. This is my nightmare. But you can write about this if you want. Here’s the thing: It was run for like 40, 50 years, but it didn’t meet the criteria to be accredited, which is not fun. I haven’t really been following it. But then I went and got other degrees — in somatic sex therapy, and I’ve taken other things.

Do you think people assume that you’re a medical doctor? I hope not. I always make it clear. I don’t want people to think I’m a medical doctor. Then people think I’m a Ph.D. — not at all. I think after 20 years I’ve been doing this, people know that I’m not a medical doctor. I know putting “Dr. Emily” in the book might have been misleading, but I do say that I’m a doctor of human sexuality, which I understand might not be as well known.

I was interested in your ideas in the book about “core desires”

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The term came to Morse from the sex educators Celeste Hirschman and Danielle Harel. She defines it as “the specific feeling you want to experience during sex.” That could be feelings like power or humiliation, not merely arousal.

and how they shape our sexuality. Do you mind if I ask what your core desire is? I think to be nurtured, to be seen — loved, cared for, nourished and sometimes ravished. Twenty years ago, I was nervous around sex, disassociated. I was much more in my head and much more about my partner’s pleasure, and if they got off, that meant it was a success and a good time. I knew nothing about my body, my clitoris. I’m a totally different person. Growing up, maybe I wasn’t in an environment — divorced parents and life was hectic. I don’t think I felt as nurtured as I needed to feel. People have really intense core desires. I want to give permission to people to find out what they need, release any shame around it, express it to your partner and then see how that goes. Hopefully it goes well.

What’s the wisest thing someone ever said to you about sex? David, you with the good questions! I don’t remember who said it to me, but: Sex isn’t just about sex.” It’s about so many other things. Sex is about your entire life. Sex is about energy, intimacy and connection. Oh, also: “Go five times slower.” That is a great sex tip!

This interview has been edited and condensed for clarity from two conversations.

Complete Article HERE!

The Clitoris Exists

– And Yes, We Need to Talk About It, Says This Expert

A lack of knowledge about the clitoris is harming half the world, experts say.

For all we now know about the human body, the clitoris is still something of a mystery. That lack of knowledge hurts roughly half the world, studies show.

By Candice Helfand-Rogers

It’s the sexual health question that remains relatively unanswered, to the point that our shared ignorance is widely joked about: What is the clitoris?

“It’s completely ignored by pretty much everyone,” Dr. Rachel Rubin, a urologist and sexual health specialist practicing in the D.C. area, recently told The New York Times. “There is no medical community that has taken ownership in the research, in the management, in the diagnosis of vulva-related conditions.”

We do know *some* things. It’s a body part with both internal and external components containing over 8,000 nerve endings – and as such, it plays a pivotal role in the enjoyment of sex for those who possess one.

But perhaps because its function revolves largely around women’s sexual pleasure – or because we, on a societal level, feel discomfort around discussing such topics – it’s not studied or taught about in any intentional way. In fact Rubin, upon trying to recall what she learned about it during her years of medical school and training, says “if it got any mention, it would be a side note at best.”

The results of this system-wide oversight are no laughing matter.

For starters, lack of knowledge of the clitoral region has resulted in injury – sometimes permanent, almost always preventable – during routine procedures ranging from pelvic meshes and episiotomies to even hip surgeries, the Times reported. A 2018 study (which Rubin co-authored) also found that sexual health problems often went undiagnosed due to a widespread failure on the part of practitioners to properly examine the area.

The resulting discomfort, pain or, in some cases, loss of sexual sensation, can be devastating for patients. Take Gillian – identified only by her first name in the Times – who told the paper about a botched vulvar biopsy that subsequently robbed her of her ability to achieve an orgasm. Her arousal during intimate moments “ended into nothing … and that’s still how it is” 4 years on.

Worse still, when seeking out assistance, guidance or simply answers from specialists, Gillian says doctors wrote the problem off as everything from temporary loss of sensation due to scarring from the procedure, to a symptom of perimenopause. “This changed my whole life,” she told the Times. “The devastation from this is something you can never repair. Ever.”

And perhaps it didn’t have to be that way – but because of the knowledge gap around the clitoris, it’s hard to know. That’s why Rubin and other experts are now calling, with renewed vigor, for a concerted group effort toward better understanding the organ. More studies, more mapping – and more consensus around the idea that pleasure for all people is worthy of medical priority.

“I truly believe we are just several decades behind on the female side,” she added to the Times. “But we have to do the work. And we have to have people interested in doing the work.”

Complete Article HERE!

The G-Spot Doesn’t Exist

By ELIZABETH KIEFER

Once upon a time, that time being 1982, there was sex. And then, suddenly, there was sex.

The difference? A teensy half-inch ribbed nub on the upper front wall of your vagina. Scientists—and magazines (hi) and books and sex-toy companies and movies and TV shows and your roommates and your sex-ed teacher—reported that it was a universal key to The Mysterious Female Orgasm. And thus began the era when you were supposed to be able to say “it blew my mind” to your girlfriends at brunch.

Or was it three inches wide? Farther down, near your vulva? Slick instead of ribbed? Kinda springy to the touch?

Whatever, it was it. And fuck if we all didn’t work hard to find our own. Back in 1982, Cosmo told women to get there by “squatting” so it would be easier “to stick one or two fingers inside the vagina” and make the necessary “come-hither motion.” A 2020 Google search turns up thousands of road maps (“where is the G-spot?” has been searched more times than Michaels Jordan and Jackson). That cute-adjacent guy you slept with in college tried the classic pile-drive maneuver, to middling success.

But it must not matter, because the G-spot economy is booming: G-spot vibrators, G-spot condoms, G-spot lube, G-spot workshops, and, for the particularly daring and/or Goop-inspired, $1,800 G-spot shots meant to plump yours for extra pleasure.

Hell, even Merriam-Webster is in on it: The G-spot is a “highly erogenous mass of tissue” in every dictionary it prints.

So then why, when we talked to the woman who helped “discover” it, did she tell us we’ve all been obsessed with the wrong thing?

That woman is Beverly Whipple, PhD. She and a team of researchers officially coined the term “G-spot” in the early ’80s. They named the thing, which they described as a “sensitive” “small bean,” for German researcher Ernst Gräfenberg (yeah, a dude). And just like that, your most frustrating fake body part was born.

ACCORDING TO OUR SURVEY, 11%

of women have avoided sex because they can’t find their G-spot.

Honestly, it all got out of hand from there, says Whipple. Her team wasn’t saying that each and every woman has a G-spot. (“Women are capable of experiencing sexual pleasure many different ways,” she insists to Cosmo now. “Everyone is unique.”) And despite that bean analogy, they didn’t mean it was a spot spot. They were talking about an “area” that could simply make some women feel good. But the media (hi again!) preferred the neat and tidy version and ran with it like a sexual cure-all.

Researchers did too. In 2012, a study published in The Journal of Sexual Medicine proclaimed that of course the G-spot was real. It just wasn’t a bean. It was actually an 8.1- by 3.6-millimeter “rope-like” piece of anatomy, a “blue” and “grape-like” sac. This revelation came from gynecologic surgeon Adam Ostrzenski, MD, PhD, after his study of an 83-year-old woman’s cadaver. (He went on to sell “G-spotplasty” treatments to women.) Over the years, lots of other researchers found the G-spot to be lots of other things: “a thick patch of nerves,” “the urethral sponge,” “a gland,” “a bunch of nerves.”

For the most part, though, the thing that women were supposed to find has remained a mystery to the experts telling them to find it. Dozens of trials used surveys, pathologic specimens, imaging, and biochemical markers to try to pinpoint the elusive G-spot once and for all.

In 2006, a biopsy of women’s vaginas turned up nothing.

In 2012, a group of doctors reviewed every single piece of known data on record and found no proof that the G-spot exists.

In 2017, in the most recent and largest postmortem study to date done on 13 cadavers, researchers looked again: still nothing.

“It’s not like pushing an elevator button or a light switch,” asserts Barry Komisaruk, PhD, a neuroscientist at Rutgers University. “It’s not a single thing.”

44%

of women have felt frustration, confusion, or anxiety while trying to locate their G-spot.

“I don’t think we have any evidence that the G-spot is a spot or a structure,” says Nicole Prause, PhD, a neuroscientist who studies orgasms and sexual arousal. “I’ve never understood why it was interpreted as some new sexual organ. You can’t standardize a vagina—there is no consistency across women as to where exactly we experience pleasure.”

Sure, she says, some women might have an area inside their vaginas that contains a bunch of smaller, super-sensitive areas. But some women say that when they follow Cosmo’s old two-finger come-hither advice, they feel discomfort or like they have to pee. Others feel nothing at all. Because for them, there’s nothing there.

Now for the trickiest part of this story—and, TBH, the reason this is even a story at all. Despite the lack of scientific evidence, there are still lots of G-spot believers, many of them super-smart, well-meaning sex educators. They’re a pretty heated group (one hung up on us when we called for an interview) and not…entirely…wrong. Their point is: If a woman believes she’s found her G-spot, that should outweigh any lack of science. And specifically, if someone claims to have experienced G-spot pleasure, it seems “bizarre” to shut her down, says Kristen Mark, PhD, a sex educator at the University of Kentucky. “That feels like going backward.”

Fair. It’s just that, as Prause points out, “women deserve accurate information about their bodies.” Can’t we have our pleasure—and the truth too?

As Prause said (and this bears repeating), for some women, there is sexual sensitivity where the G-spot is supposed to be. But for others, there’s none. Or it’s to the left. Or it’s in a few places. And that’s kind of the whole point. It’s all okay. It can all feel good.

What everyone can agree on is that we need more research. Women’s sexual health is vastly understudied, and the scientific hurdles are borderline absurd. In 2015, Prause tried to get a trial going at UCLA that would study orgasms in women who were, you know, actually alive. The board heard her out but wanted a promise that her test subjects “wouldn’t climax” because they didn’t like the optics of women orgasming in their labs. (As you’ve already guessed, the study wasn’t approved.)

So yeah, a new kind of thinking about female pleasure is going to take a minute for certain people to get on board with. Like those brunch friends who go on and on about G-spot rapture. And like men, who might love the idea of the G-spot best of all. A G-spot orgasm requires penetration, which just so happens to be the way most guys prefer to get off. “If you’ve got a penis, it would be super convenient if the way the person with a vagina has pleasure is for you to put your penis in their vagina,” says Emily Nagoski, PhD, author of Come as You Are, a book that explores the science of female sexuality. Related: 80 percent of the men in Cosmo’s survey said they believe every woman has a G-spot; nearly 60 percent called it the “best way” for a female partner to achieve pleasure. (“Once you rally enough experience like myself, you can find it on every girl,” one supremely confident guy told us.)

31%

of women say their partner has gotten frustrated while searching for it.

Just like it did for women, the G-spot gave men a universal performance metric and the “cultural message that pleasure for women happens by pounding on their vaginas with your penis,” says Nagoski.

Things were thisclose to going in a much better direction. “In the early ’80s, there was research that was really putting the clitoris front and center,” explains Nagoski. “Then along came the G-spot research, creating this pressure for women to be orgasmic from vaginal stimulation even though most women’s bodies just aren’t wired that way. And if you really think about why vaginal stimulation matters so much, it’s because it puts the focus on male pleasure.”

Go ahead and let that sink in while we gear up to talk about the fallout. Not only the sexual frustration (although that, definitely that) but also the giant emotional burden the G-spot unwittingly dropped on all of us. Turns out, the thing that was supposed to awaken and equalize our sex lives came with a really shitty side effect: shame.

More than half of the women in Cosmo’s survey reported feeling inadequate or frustrated knowing that others are able to orgasm in a way they can’t. Eleven percent said this made them avoid sex entirely. “I have friends who say they always climax from intercourse alone and they’re like, ‘You just haven’t found it yet,’” says Alyssa, a Cosmo reader. “It’s like they’re the lucky ones.”

That’s why on one recent Tuesday, another Cosmo reader, Beth, found herself sitting in a room that looked oddly like a vagina—low, pink light, a candle burning softly nearby—getting her first round of G-spot homework. She and her husband had hired a sex therapist to help them feel more in sync sexually. Basically, he wanted it a lot more than she did, probably because she was still waiting for something…bigger. “I can have a clitoral orgasm,” she says. “But knowing that there’s something better, I wanted to experience that.”

82%

of men believe every woman has the magic button.

The couple’s take-home tasks were a checklist of “sexy” moves, designed to help them find Beth’s G-spot so she could have The Orgasm. “The night we did doggy-style, it felt…god, there was the sound of skin smacking and my husband asking me if it was working. It was terrible.” (We fact-checked this with Beth’s husband. Oh yeah, “it sucked.”) After that, they gave up.

Other couples are still searching: 22 percent of guys say that finding a woman’s G-spot is the number one goal of sex, which helps explain the 31 percent of women who say they’re dealing with exasperated partners. Prause worries about that. She says: “You’ll hear guys say things like, ‘My last girlfriend wasn’t this much work,’ or ‘You take a long time to orgasm,’ or ‘This worked for the last person I slept with.’ That makes women question if they’re normal. And that, we hate.”

Which is why we’re calling off the search. We’re done with the damn “spot” and we’re sorry, again, that we ever brought it up. And actually: Unless sex researchers make a surprisingly major breakthrough, Cosmo won’t be publishing any more G-spot sex positions or “how to find it” guides.

“What would truly be revolutionary for women’s sex lives is to engage with what research has found all along: the best predictors of sexual satisfaction are intimacy and connection,” adds Debby Herbenick, PhD, a professor at Indiana University School of Public Health and a research fellow at the Kinsey Institute.

The science world is revolutionizing, too, trying to figure out how to rebrand the G-spot into something more (and by “more,” we mean actually) accurate. Whipple stands by her “area.” Italian researchers have suggested renaming it the somewhat less sexy “clitoral vaginal urethral complex.” Herbenick has her own ideas: “First of all, it should not be named after a man. It’s a female body we’re talking about, and just because a man wrote about it doesn’t mean he was the first to understand or experience it.” But anyway, she’d go with “zone.”

As for us, we’re going to kick off this new era with a 100 percent G-spot-free piece of smarter, wiser sex advice, courtesy of Nagoski: “If it feels good, you’re doing it right.” Call that whatever you want.

Complete Article HERE!

3 Pelvic Floor Workouts That Support Better Sex

— According to a Pelvic Floor Therapist

By Natalie Arroyo Camacho

Every person has a pelvic floor, a sling of muscles connecting the pubic bone and the tailbone, and it’s connected to so many health functions, including bowel and bladder control, supporting the pelvic organs, and contributing to optimum sexual health. And with respect to that last factor, there are specific ways to set yourself up for success—namely with pelvic floor workouts for better sex.

The pelvic floor can help enhance sexual function because it has direct connections to the clitoral hood and assists in closure around the vaginal opening (for vulva havers) as well as the anus (for those who have anal sex). “The pelvic floor muscles have been found to affect your orgasm: Stronger pelvic floor muscle contractions have been found to correlate with more intense and longer duration of an orgasm,” says pelvic-floor physical therapist Heather Jeffcoat, DPT, owner of Femina Physical Therapy in Los Angeles and author of Sex Without Pain: A Self Treatment Guide to the Sex Life. So by strengthening your pelvic floor, you are, in turn, setting yourself up to reap more of the well-being benefits of achieving orgasm.

“Stronger pelvic floor muscle contractions have been found to correlate with more intense and longer duration of an orgasm.” —Heather Jeffcoat, DPT, pelvic floor physical therapist

One of the most common and widely known pelvic floor workouts for better sex comes in the form of Kegels—aka flexing and releasing your pelvic-floor muscles. However, Dr. Jeffcoat says it’s a misnomer that Kegels are the be-all and end-all of pelvic floor workouts for better sex. That’s because the key to pelvic floor health is achieving a balance between flexibility and strength—and Kegels are primarily a strength-specific workout.

“Many folks think that Kegels are the answer to any problems with their pelvic health,” says Dr. Jeffcoat. “However, sometimes people need to take a step back from strengthening and focus on muscle relaxation and mobility.”

With that in mind, read on for three pelvic floor workouts for better sex, according to pros. But before you actually start your exercises, Dr. Jeffcoat suggests consulting a professional to help you develop a personalized plan. “You can find a local pelvic-floor physical therapist at the Academy of Pelvic Health Physical Therapy,” she says.

3 pelvic floor workouts for better sex that aren’t Kegels, from a pelvic floor physical therapist

1. Bridging from a chair or couch

“The glutes and adductors facilitate a pelvic floor contraction, and this exercise pulls in both muscle groups for added benefit,” says Dr. Jeffcoat.

How to do it: Lie on the ground, with your feet up on a chair or couch and your knees pressed together. Contract your pelvic floor muscles, pull your navel towards your spine, then exhale as you lift your hips up towards the ceiling. Inhale, return to the floor. Make sure you keep your knees pressed together. To assist, you can add a small pillow between your knees. Repeat this 15 to 20 times, three to four times per week.

2. Prone hip diamonds

According to Dr. Jeffcoat, “the glutes and hip external rotators facilitate a pelvic floor contraction, and this exercise pulls in both muscle groups for added benefit.”

How to do it: Lie on your stomach with your hips about 30 degrees away from your side, knees bent, and heels together, making a bent diamond shape with your legs. Contract your pelvic floor muscles, pull your navel towards your spine, then exhale as you lift your thighs up off of the floor. Inhale, and return to the floor. Repeat this 15 to 20 times, three to four times per week. For added intensity, you can pulse this exercise at the end for 10 to 15 more reps.

3. Modified plank with pelvic tuck

Dr. Jeffcoat says this exercise will work your deep abdominal muscles, which connect to and facilitate the moving of pelvic floor muscles. “You will also work your gluteal muscles in this exercise, further facilitating the pelvic floor muscle contraction,” adds Dr. Jeffcoat.

How to do it: Lie on your stomach, with your elbows under your shoulders. Lift your pelvis off the ground, keeping your knees down, and maintain your elbows under your shoulders. (If you are holding correctly, your torso should be parallel to the floor.) Take a breath in, then exhale and tuck your pelvis under to flatten your lower back. The rest of your body stays in the same position. Repeat three to four times per week.

Complete Article HERE!

Uncovering Mysteries of Female Dolphin Sexual Anatomy

A close examination of 11 clitorises from common bottlenose dolphins suggests the female cetaceans experience pleasure during frequent sexual activity.

“A lot of people assume that humans are unique in having sex for pleasure,” said Justa Heinen-Kay, a researcher at the University of Minnesota. “This research challenges that notion.”

By Sabrina Imbler

Common bottlenose dolphins have sex frequently — very likely multiple times in a day. Copulation lasts only a few seconds, but social sex, which is used to maintain social bonds, can last much longer, happen more frequently and involve myriad heterosexual and homosexual pairings of dolphins and their body parts. Anything is possible, and, as new research suggests, probably pleasurable for swimmers of both sexes.

According to a paper published on Monday in the journal Current Biology, female bottlenose dolphins most likely experience pleasure through their clitorises.

The findings come as little surprise to scientists who research these dolphins. “The only thing that surprises me is how long it has taken us as scientists to look at the basic reproductive anatomy,” Sarah Mesnick, an ecologist at NOAA Fisheries who was not involved with the research, said, speaking of the clitoris. She added, “It took a team of brilliant women,” referring to two of the authors.

“A lot of people assume that humans are unique in having sex for pleasure,” Justa Heinen-Kay, a researcher at the University of Minnesota who was not involved with the paper, wrote in an email. “This research challenges that notion.”

And learning more about the anatomy of marine mammals’ genitalia has clear implications for their survival, Dr. Mesnick said: “The more we know about the social behavior of these animals, the better we’re able to understand their evolution and help use that to manage and conserve them.”

Historically, researchers have focused on male genitalia, driven by prejudice toward male subjects, prejudice against female choice in sexual selection and the fact that it can be easier to study something that sticks out. “Female genitalia were assumed to be simple and uninteresting,” Dr. Heinen-Kay said. “But the more that researchers study female genitalia, the more we’re learning that this isn’t the case at all.” She added that this shift may be driven in part by the increasing number of women researchers.

Patricia Brennan, an evolutionary biologist at Mount Holyoke College and an author on the paper, wound up studying the dolphin clitoris by way of the dolphin vagina. She and Dara Orbach, a biologist at Texas A&M University and another author on the paper, previously revealed how female dolphins have intricately pleated vaginas that can handily stopper a penis. The internal anatomy grants the female agency in choosing which male’s sperm may fertilize her egg.

When Dr. Brennan and Dr. Orbach began researching dolphin vaginas together in 2016, they found themselves dissecting as many of these pleated pouches as they could get their hands on. The researchers put out a request to local stranding networks and received lumps of frozen tissue over the years from stranded cetaceans in varying states of decay.

As the researchers thawed the samples in a sink, the warming flesh often began to reek. “I’m really glad I’m a vegetarian because I think I would never be able to eat meat again,” Dr. Brennan said.

Like cultured oysters, every dissected dolphin vagina unfurled to reveal a kind of treasure: an unmistakable clitoris, the size of an AA battery and the color of spam. “You open it up and then there’s this giant clitoris right there,” Dr. Brennan said.

The researchers dissected the clitorises of 11 common bottlenose dolphins and ran tissue samples through a micro CT scanner. Their examination revealed a number of signs of a functional clitoris, including erectile tissue that could become turgid with blood. They also found a band of connective tissue surrounding the erectile tissue, which ensures the clitoris could engorge and keep its shape. And the clitoris changed shape as the dolphins reached adulthood, suggesting it has a function related to sexual maturity.

The CT scanner showed the clitoral tissue contained unusually large nerves — up to half a millimeter in diameter — and abundant free nerve endings just under the skin, increasing sensitivity. And the clitoral skin itself was a third of the thickness of neighboring genital skin, making it much easier to stimulate.

These observations provide “some nice suggestive evidence” that female dolphins feel pleasure responses to tactile stimulation, said Brian Langerhans, an evolutionary biologist at North Carolina State University, who was not involved with the research. He added that more research was needed to prove the hypothesis.

But it is no easy feat to study dolphin sex experimentally in a lab, or in the wild. The physiological signs of pleasure associated with humans and other primates — vocalizing, grimacing, rolling eyes and panting — may look totally different in a dolphin. “Their bodies are so different from us, and their faces are so different from ours,” Dr. Brennan said. “How would we know?”

Dr. Langerhans and Dr. Mesnick both suggested the need for comparative research between other species of cetaceans. “Are they going to find the same kind of anatomy in species that are more solitary or open-ocean or deep-diving?” Dr. Mesnick wondered. For example, a pleasurable clitoris might be far less useful in a species where males and females interact less often.

Dr. Brennan hopes to study clitorises from across the animal kingdom — she already has an orca clitoris sitting in a jar in her lab. The white whale of marine clitorises may be the blue whale’s. “They’ve got the biggest everything,” Dr. Brennan said. “I would bet you a million dollars that they have a clitoris, and it’s probably huge.”

Complete Article HERE!

Understanding orgasms

— a simple guide to how they work

An orgasm from penetration alone may feel out of reach. But there are ways to do it.

Let’s just take a reality check quickly, not everyone with a vagina can orgasm with penetration alone. In fact, less than 30 per cent of vagina owners can reach climax through this method. Yet there are some ways you can lend yourself a helping hand to see if it is something you can achieve.

1. Understand vagina anatomy‍

First, make sure you understand vaginal anatomy and the parts that are most likely to lead to pleasure (and maybe orgasm) when stimulated. For most people the entrance and first third of the vagina are the most sensitive areas.

This may include the G-spot area, which is on the front wall of the vagina. The internal structure of the clitoris has a lot to do with why these parts can bring a lot of pleasure, so make sure you understand the full size and shape of the clit so you know what you’re working with.

Other areas that are sexually sensitive for some people are the cervix, “A-spot”, and perineal​ sponge.

So get familiar with all these sexy bits by checking out some good anatomy diagrams. It’s much easier to reach your destination if you have a good map.

2. Find your own sensitive areas and focus there‍

Understanding anatomy is just the starting point. The important thing is to apply it to your own body.

Experiment with stimulating different areas and see what brings pleasure. Do you enjoy deep penetration?

Do you prefer G-spot stimulation? Or pressure against the back wall around your perineum? Or somewhere else entirely? Whatever feels best for you and brings the most intensity of sensation is where you should focus.

3. Take your time to get aroused

The vagina can take longer to warm up than the clit, and getting that blood flow to the genital tissues is really important for your arousal, sensation, and chances of reaching the big O.

So spend some time on kissing, nipple play, dirty talk, and oral sex before moving to penetration to make sure your body is ready.

4. Start by trying blended orgasms

You may be working up to a hands-free orgasm during intercourse, but combining vaginal stimulation with clit stimulation is a good stepping stone.

Just do penetration for a while, and then add in clit stimulation when you feel you need it to reach orgasm.

Over time, delay adding in clit stimulation and see if eventually you can climax without it. Maybe yes, maybe no, but it’s worth a try.

5. Find the best position(s) for you

Cowgirl: Riding on top is the most successful position for achieving a hands-free orgasm during intercourse. Not only can you direct the penetration to hit your sweet spots, but you can also grind your clit on your partner’s body to maximise the sensation from all angles.‍

Knees-back missionary: Lie on your back and pull your knees up so your feet are raised off the bed. You may want to prop up your butt with a pillow for support. This is an effective G-spot position since it’s much easier to access that front wall of the vagina than it is during regular missionary. During penetration, angle the penis or toy to press that G-spot area if you know you like G-spot sensation.‍

Doggy: If you enjoy deep penetration, then doggy is a great option. You can also be more in control of the speed and depth, which can help you get the stimulation you want. Another good thing about doggy is it’s so easy to use a finger or toy on your clit, to help push you over the edge. ‍

Legs together: Some people find it easier to reach orgasm when their legs are close together rather than spread apart. Try having your legs together – you could be on your front, back, side, standing, it’s your choice! Have your partner straddle you while they’re penetrating you. Clench or pulse your pelvic and thigh muscles in this position to boost the intensity of sensations and help you reach the big O.

6. Slow and steady wins the race‍

A common error when trying to reach orgasm is thinking that hard-and-fast is best. While it may be preferred by some people, for many, too much pressure and friction for too long can numb the nerve-endings, and can feel uncomfortable.

So, although it’s counterintuitive, slow movements with a lighter pressure can actually feel way more intense. Yes, hard-and-fast is often preferred as a person gets closer to orgasm, but in the build up try to keep movements on the slow and steady side.

7. Try edging‍

Switching between slower and faster is also a great way to build up arousal and increase your chances of orgasm.

You may want to indulge in a bit of hot-and-heavy bed-bouncing activity, and then dial it back to slow and focussed thrusts for a couple of minutes.

Switching intensity during sex, aka “edging” is a popular technique to help with reaching and intensifying climax.

8. Breath, focus, and relax‍

Getting relaxed and feeling present in your body can help you focus on your vaginal sensations and really enjoy the pleasure.

Find ways to reduce your mental distraction such as choosing a relaxing time and place to have sex, starting with a massage or bath, and making sure there are no lingering disagreements you need to resolve with your partner as resentment is like a cold shower to your libido.

During sex, breathing slowly and deeply and focussing on your genital area can help you hone in on those sensations. You can think of it as “breathing into your p….” to bring relaxation and blood flow to the area.

9. Pay attention to your environment‍

Being in the right environment is really important to help you feel comfortable, relaxed, and in a good mental space.

That means: getting the lighting right for you, making sure the bed (or wherever you are) is comfy, and checking the temperature – are you warm enough? Focus on your pleasure without getting distracted.

10. Practise by yourself‍

Why not dedicate some time to practising solo? Using a dildo, try masturbating with penetration only. See what speed, angle, and depth feels good.

Pay attention to how your arousal builds, and to how the intensity of the sensation increases. As you get more practice, you might find you’re able to bring yourself closer to orgasm (and you might even get there). Once you’ve worked out how to get this type of pleasure from solo play, you’ll have more idea of the techniques to try with a partner.

11. Pelvic floor strength‍

Having a well-toned pelvic floor is important. It will allow you to grip more tightly on your partner’s penis or the dildo, and this can intensify the sensations you feel in your vagina.

Also, since an orgasm is basically a series of muscle contractions, having a toned pelvic floor is important so that these muscle contractions can happen. Kegel exercises can help improve your pelvic floor strength, just make sure you do them correctly, and be sure to evaluate first if they are right for you, as they’re not appropriate for everyone.

Complete Article HERE!

How the vagina changes over time and what to do if sex becomes less enjoyable

The vagina can stretch to twice its normal size during childbirth.

By

  • The average vagina is about 9.6 centimeters (3.8 inches) deep but can stretch to twice that amount.
  • Childbirth and menopause can change the depth of a vagina, which may change how sex feels.
  • If your vagina feels loose, try Kegel exercises or other exercises to strengthen your pelvic floor.

The average vagina measures seven to ten centimeters (about two to four inches). However, the vaginal canal is impressively flexible and how deep a vagina is at any given time often depends on the person as well as circumstances like sexual arousal, pregnancy, childbirth, and menopause.

How deep is a vagina?

According to a small 2005 study, the average depth of a vagina is 9.6 centimeters (or 3.78 inches). However, it has the ability to stretch when sexually aroused to accommodate a penis.

The vagina can also stretch six inches or wider during childbirth to accommodate the baby’s head and shoulders, says Maureen Whelihan, MD, FACOG, a gynecologist at the Elite GYN Care of the Palm Beaches and section chair of American College of Obstetricians and Gynecologists (ACOG) District XII.

Does vaginal depth affect sexual pleasure?

Some people may think that having a deeper vagina is more pleasurable because there will be more nerve endings to heighten the sensation.

However, “the current evidence suggests that vaginal length is not associated with sexual satisfaction. Most women are aroused from the clitoris which is independent from vaginal length,” says Oz Harmanli, MD, chief of Yale Medicine Urogynecology & Reconstructive Pelvic Surgery and professor at the Yale School of Medicine.

Additionally, a 2010 study involving more than 500 heterosexual women found that the length of the vagina did not seem to affect how sexually active they were.

How does the vagina change over time?

Age and lifestyle has a big impact on how the vagina changes over time. In particular, giving birth and going through menopause are perhaps the two primary events in a person’s life that will significantly change their vagina.

Childbirth

Childbirth can affect vaginal depth because the pelvic floor muscles, which support the pelvic organs such as the uterus, bladder, and bowels, get stretched out to support the weight of the baby.

In fact, a 2009 study found that the pelvic floor muscles stretch more than three times their normal size during labor.

The vagina can remain lax after childbirth for up to a year, depending on the size of the baby or the number of babies that were born, says Whelihan.

“The main reason for [feeling loose] could be pelvic floor relaxation and tears as a result of pregnancies, and especially vaginal deliveries,” says Harmanli.

Experts say Kegel exercises and pelvic floor exercises can help regain muscle strength in the pelvic floor, which increases sexual arousal and vaginal lubrication.

Menopause

During menopause, estrogen levels drop, which makes the vaginal canal shorter and narrower, says Harmanli.

Postmenopausal individuals may feel like there is less room inside the vagina for intercourse if they don’t have penetrative sex for a long time, he adds. However, having regular vaginal sexual activity even after menopause helps maintain the vagina’s length and width and reduces dryness.

What if a vagina feels loose during sex?

When it comes to penetrative sex, there is a pervasive myth that having more sex will make the vagina feel “loose” and lead to less pleasurable sex. However, this is not true and is most likely used to shame people for their sexual activity.

A vagina that is perceived as loose might point to a lack of arousal or be reflective of their partner’s small penis or inability to maintain a firm erection, says Whelihan.

Therefore, if the quality of your sexual experience has diminished, it’s important to communicate with your partner(s) about each other’s wants, needs, and openness to try new things.

Insider’s takeaway

The vaginal canal is usually about seven to ten centimeters deep. But it can stretch and become deeper during sex or childbirth.

The vagina may also get shorter during menopause, but having regular sexual activity helps maintain its length.

Finally, there’s no evidence that having a lot of sex will make the vagina loose. But a vagina may feel loose after childbirth in which case pelvic floor exercises may help restore vaginal lubrication and improve sexual satisfaction.

Complete Article HERE!

We need to talk about down there

Women’s symptoms are all too frequently dismissed by healthcare professionals, especially when they relate to that shameful region between the legs. It’s time to stop suffering in silence, writes Maia Ingoe.

By  

When I was eight years old, I fell off the trampoline. It was a haven among unruly grasses, sitting on the unmown patch of lawn at Dad’s house. Faded yellow foam was meant to cover the springs and metal bar that rounded the outside, but ours was ripped and falling off in places from years of use. A thin wooden plank bridged the deck to our tramp. My brother and I would walk across with arms out to balance over rough seas of green grass and leap into our pirate ship, safe aboard our vessel. Then we’d jump, high above the roof of our house. We could see all the way down the end of our one-lane road. We’d play games, jumping crisscross and around in circles, and stay in a state of childhood bliss for hours. 

On that day, though, I wanted to get off. My brother kept jumping, knees hugging to his chest to get more height, refusing to end the competition. I stepped onto the pirate’s plank, heading back to the stable land of the deck. He kept jumping, and the plank slipped. I fell haphazardly: one leg on the inside of the metal bar of the trampoline, and one on the outside. I can’t remember experiencing pain so immediate, so brutal. I continued falling, landing on the ground below, clutching that not-talked-about space between my legs. I didn’t have the power to yell at my brother for continuing to jump when I told him not to. I just said, weakly, “Go get Dad”.

I don’t remember much of what happened next. I do remember blood. I remember not wanting to move. I remember standing in the bathroom with my Nana while she looked: under me, up there. I remember walking awkwardly through the supermarket aisles, each step stabbing a little more, and Nana showing me a pink packet of liners, Carefree, and explaining how to peel off the backing to get the sticky bit. Two days after the accident, I went back to Mum’s house: she was appalled that Dad hadn’t taken me to the doctor. I remember going to see the GP, a nice older lady, and scrunching my eyes as I lay on the cold vinyl table with a thin sheet covering my skinny knees. Her gloved fingers touching and looking, looking, looking. I remember going to the hospital for the first time in my life, staring at the white corridors and harsh steel of the elevator. We went to see a specialist, an American lady with a perm of grey hair – in America, they said, there were doctors for everything and specialists for every part of the body, from your nose to your big toe. She looked, and she told us that there was a tear, and that was doing the bleeding – the same thing happened to some women when they gave birth, she said. We filled an old sunblock spray bottle with water and kept it in the bathroom, to use to stop it stinging. I pushed through. I healed.

I didn’t tell anyone at school about my accident. I dodge conversations about childhood injuries, the “how many bones have you broken?” questions. I can still feel the red-hot burning shame. I’ve since learnt that my injury is referred to as a perineal tear, usually occurs during birth, and affects 85% of women. Yet, funding for further care or physio isn’t provided in New Zealand – some women are not even told of their injuries after birth. I list this in my growing folder of the ways women’s pain is sidelined by medical professionals, education, our partners, employment laws, research and clinical trials. The lack of understanding and knowledge makes our pain invisible.

***

Women are used to catering to the stigma around our bodies: we hide our periods and push through painful cramps to meet a male-dictated standard of productivity. These taboos build up walls around women’s sexual health, preventing open conversations about our issues in education, medicine, and relationships.  We’re a controversial subject: either we’re being slutty, or prudish, or we aren’t acting our age, or we aren’t being professional, or we aren’t pretty enough, sexy enough. Our bodies are either over-sexualised or hidden away with notions of dirtiness and impurity. Talking about down-there health is gross, disgusting, something that should be kept private and hidden. Women are so busy trying to live in bodies subject to societal standards that little room is left for honest discussion of our sexual health and wellbeing, especially in healthcare systems orientated around the male body.

***

I am in Wellington today: briefly, an attempt to ease the constant ache that is a long-distance relationship. We are walking along the waterfront, me and him, having eaten crepes in our French café and wanting to spend time in the windy summer. We stop once, for the public bathrooms. I get no relief from the discomfort I’m attempting to ignore. It’s piercing me in that little part, down there, with the sharpness of a bee sting on the most sensitive flesh. But I want to enjoy the day. I stop at another bathroom, hidden beside the ice-cream store. There is no relief from this rupturing sensation. I ask to sit down, and we do, and I fight the pain and discomfort that is taking over every waking sense. Attempt to focus on the warming sun and salty ocean smell. I go back to the bathroom, knowing my bladder will restrict. I cannot pass. I don’t have the words to explain what is happening. I don’t have the bravery to be clear about the pain. I ask to go home, and we walk to the train station – a painfully long walk. I stop twice, having to sit down and clench my fists against cold stone. When we get to the station, I use the bathroom again. He buys me Powerade, eyes full of concern. I push through the pain, the burning, the feeling of bursting from the inside out, and rush to the bus, only able to breathe once it’s driving up the hill. Once home, I lock myself in the bathroom for hours. I drink the Powerade.

***

I went to the clinic today. Colourful pamphlets lined the wall; Contraception, your choice, Smear tests, All About STIs, Abortion – What you need to know. In the doctor’s office, watching the nurse type notes into diagnostic software, I struggled to find the words to describe the pain. I didn’t want to talk about down there. Even though the nurses at Family Planning talk every day about down there. I went to the bathroom and peed into a tray. I lay on my back on the cold vinyl table, covered by a thin blanket, knees up. The nurse put sticks in and collected samples and covered this big plastic thing with gel and opened it up to peer inside. She felt around my hips and said nothing seemed awry. She said she’d send tests off and gave me a prescription for a little bottle of 20 tiny green pills. I went home and googled “UTI”.

***

I went into work today, at my office full of grisly men who slash weeds and shoot possums for a living. The pain started after I’d been at my desk for an hour. I quietly went to the bathroom, the disabled one shared with the two archive ladies next door. It was private in there. Peeing caused burning, but not unbearable discomfort. I dealt with it, covered it up, washed my hands, quietly returned to my desk. Sitting still, the piercing feeling persisted. I went to the bathroom four times in the next hour. My only thought: they will notice. They’ll think I’m slacking. I already went home once this week, with heartburn. I’m not working hard enough. Push through.

***

I think what made it hard for me to talk about my down-there pain, as an eight-year-old kid or as an adult, was the shame. Ingrained in me was this shame of revealing anything about my body, and a belief that maybe I wasn’t even conscious of, that these issues somehow made me disgusting, unclean, or too sexually promiscuous. As a child, my injury was in a part of my body that I knew nothing about; no one had told me how it all works yet, and I suppose as a child that innocence should be protected. But when the adults in my life dodged dealing with the injury, when it was dismissed as “just puberty” despite the horrible, aching, stinging pain, and when they themselves weren’t comfortable talking about it in frank language, it became a problem. Vaginas are just another part of the body, after all. They get hurt sometimes, they get infected, and they are not the same for every person. So why can’t we talk about the health of our vagina without shame: why can’t we say the words vulva, labia, urethra and clitoris without cringing?

***

In my last year of primary school, there was a day when the girls and boys were separated into two different classes. The girls were given a purple booklet, the boys a blue one. The girls got an extra present: a little U by Kotex bag, stocked with pads and tampons. They told us girls about periods, and how our bodies would change with this thing called puberty. All the kids compared booklets afterwards, laughing at the diagrams of private parts in both nervousness and shock. I wonder now why it was necessary to separate the boys and girls. Our bodies have different reproductive parts, but we all have bodies, and it is important for us to understand both vaginas and penises without stigma, to have direct conversations instead of leaving it to silent giggling in the playground. Separating up our bodies according to their female and male parts created categories that we know now are much more fluid than physical characteristics. Sex education, in the way I experienced, makes the bodies of intersex, trans and non-binary people invisible.

At high school we were told about periods again – despite most of us already having had our first. Apparently, there were condoms, too, and awkward discussions about sex – although I missed that lesson because of the obligatory office duty. What they missed was women’s sexual health. We were told about chlamydia, herpes, and HIV, but what about UTIs, vaginismus, or endometriosis? Throughout my irrational googling of symptoms, I’ve come across many conditions I never knew existed, such as the perineal tear I had as a child, which, until after birth, many women aren’t aware is a common complication. We were told that sex was meant to be an enjoyable thing – which was a progression in itself – but not what the clitoris is, or what might be causing painful sex. The invisibility of women’s health in sex education speaks to a desperate need for accepting and inclusive sex ed, which treats the differences between bodies with equal measure, and prepares us to deal with the multiplex of confusions around sex and the health of vaginas.

***

Women’s symptoms are more likely than men’s to be dismissed by healthcare professionals, explained away as exaggerated or hysterical. One needs only to look at the women who have struggled to get a diagnosis for endometriosis, a condition causing debilitating period pain, because of their age or disbelief of their symptoms. The struggle to get surgery for endometriosis is another healthcare battle. Many women who experience pain during sex or who have other sexual health issues internalise these perceptions reflected by medical professionals: we are being hysterical, it isn’t that bad, we can cope. We are simply over-reacting. Worse, we’re fabricating it, wanting to gain attention. Women are not trusted to understand the world with clear minds: this very perception is embedded in the language we use to describe unreasonable antics. “Hysterical” originates in the Latin word “hystericus”, meaning “of the womb”: insanity caused by the uterus. “Loony” originates from the word lunacy, linking maddening behaviour with monthly menstrual cycles. It all creates a barrier of dismissal for women seeking treatment for sexual health issues, rendering the reality of our pain invisible, leaving us to suffer in silence.

***

The medical barriers around women’s health have been built upon a history of inequality that wave after wave of feminism has tried to wash from society. Gender equality has made great leaps in the last century: women, generally, have lives that are not confined to the household, limitations defined by ourselves, not men. A female prime minister led New Zealand through crisis after crisis while pregnant; young women are holding the banners at the front of climate activism; and we proudly sing the lyrics of Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion’s ‘WAP’ in what I like to think is an attempt to own our sexual pleasure. None of these advances, however, are without backlash.

Some argue that because of these gains, the need for feminism has passed; yet medicine still trails behind, its anchors in the past century. The male body persists as a crude standardisation for medical research and practice. Penises are used to set the standards for population-wide health, blind to the differences of female bodies or bodies that aren’t defined by either side of the gender binary.

When women’s health began to take space within medicine, and practices such as gynaecology were created, gendered divisions still relegated women to the privacy of the household; and men dominated the public sphere. In the Victorian era and before, women were legally the property of fathers and husbands, our bodies reduced to the base purpose of childbearing. Women’s bodies were subject to legal and medical control then, so perhaps it is no surprise that control is recurrent in medical discourse around our bodies today.

A study from Monash University in Australia found that in treating women with endometriosis, medicine still constructs us as “reproductive bodies with hysterical tendencies”. These “hysterical tendencies” lead clinicians to question the accuracy of women’s accounts, assuming pain is exaggerated or fabricated. The title of the paper is taken from one such clinicians quote; “Do mad people get endo or does endo make you mad? It’s probably a bit of both.”

In my bedside drawer, I have a collection of medicines, accumulated through various prescriptions and self-initiated pharmacy trips. Sitting next to the bracelet Mum bought me when I turned 16 are two tubes of Clomazol cream, encased in cherry pink and yellow packaging. Good for fungal infections – although I’ve only heard it recommended for vaginal thrush, and I wonder why they don’t simply advertise it as such on the cover. In my case, used for brief relief from itching that comes and goes. Next to it, contained in a little bag, are the scissors I used to use to chop off pubic hair, buying into the idea that making myself look prepubescent was sexy, creating a field day for bacteria from the hair follicles left behind. Rolling around among the lip balms are bottles of nitrofurantoin and metronidazole, pills given to me to treat UTIs and bacterial vaginosis. Both were recommended in a tone that seemed like guessing. The green box of Ural sachets, which I mixed with water and guzzled in the worst of the clitoral pain, are tucked into the back. There are bottles of multivitamins Mum bought me, and some cranberry supplements recommended by a friend. In the bathroom cupboard there’s a big white tub of fatty cream given to me at my last appointment, which is meant to moisturise and if needed, be a substitute for soap – it’s my favourite vagina product thus far. The best part about it is that it doesn’t tell me I’m meant to smell like a bunch of roses between the legs. There are a few more creams and things with my emergency pads and menstrual cup in the box above my wardrobe.

One of the most unexpected signs of adulthood is the little pharmacies of medicines we accumulate, alongside our precious keepsakes and toiletries and snack stashes. Mine is composed of pills and creams for the vagina, labia, urethra – although, these words are not referred to directly on the box. Most of them sit unused, after being told to stop taking them, try this one instead, have this as a future precaution. My friend’s pharmacy lives in a box beside her bed, full of painkillers for the chronic cramps her first doctor said were just her period, and for which further appointments haven’t found a conclusive answer. Other people have pharmacies of birth control pills, creams for recurring skin conditions, medication for anxiety and ADHD.

Most people whom I’ve talked to about vaginal health become angry. We share frustration at the ways our bodies, differing from the male norm, are neglected. Some are worn down by their consistent pain and repeated struggles to convince medicine of their right to receive care. Still, we persist with life through varying degrees and conditions of pain. We are imperfect; our studies or work or families take up our time and our health is pushed to the side. Sometimes, we are a little relieved that other responsibilities demand priority, avoiding the shameful regions between the legs. Sometimes we decide a two-week wait for an appointment, remembering half-hearted advice we received in the past, isn’t worth it. The more people I’ve talked to, however, the less willing I find myself to make excuses. The more I see women sharing their pain and helping to shoulder each other’s struggles in the absence of funded support, the less I want to hide. I find myself ringing my clinic repetitively, catching my apologies for making a fuss before they leave my lips. I might shoulder my pain, stock up on my little pharmacy of relievers, and persist with life that won’t stop for health, but I want to do so loudly. Talking clearly rather than hiding problems alongside tampons tucked discreetly into pockets. Talking until our healthcare is dignified, supportive, and accessible. Talking among our friends and family, our doctors and teachers, until the issues around our bodies are no longer invisible.

Complete Article HERE!

The Sex Educators Helping Muslim Women Claim Their Sexuality

By Hafsa Lodi

‘Orgasm’ and ‘Islam‘ are two words you don’t typically see together. I never thought I’d use them in the same sentence and certainly never imagined I’d have the guts to write publicly about sex. It just isn’t something you talk about as a Muslim, especially if you’re female.

And so I can’t help but do a double take when I see the O word used colloquially by female Muslim personalities on social media. A post on @villageauntie’s Instagram states: “My orgasm is not optional.” “Orgasm is one part of a spectrum of sexual pleasure that Allah has created our bodies to experience,” reads a caption by @sexualhealthformuslims. Both platforms are treasure troves of advice, insight and tips tailored for Muslims – invitations to not-so-secret social media networks that work to remove stigma and democratise faith-based discussions about sex.

An Instagram poll of 615 Muslims revealed that growing up, only 9% had any sort of sex ed from a religious framework. Yemeni-British musician Noha Al-Maghafi, known as Intibint, recalls living in Yemen and being instructed to rip out the pages on reproduction from her science book in Year 6. In Year 9, her biology teacher gave her girls’ class a covert lesson on sex ahead of some students’ impending weddings. For other Muslim women, sex ed may amount to a whisper from their mother ahead of their wedding night, reminding them to shower afterwards to purify themselves. What happens in between is often pieced together from gossip, magazines, movies and television shows.

Intentions to shelter young Muslims from education about sex might be well-meaning – an extension of protecting their chastity and overall naivety – but there are far-reaching consequences to promoting this sort of ignorance. Lack of awareness and education about sex can lead to a fear of intimacy, unbalanced sexual roles, unenjoyable sex and, in extreme cases, marital rape. Thankfully, there is a movement brewing to demystify sexual education for Muslims, driven largely by women on social media who are speaking openly about sex. Discussing topics like consent, fertility, ejaculation and orgasms, their guidance is imbued with religious language and emphasises the equality of genders in sexual intimacy.

Sameera Qureshi of @sexualhealthformuslims is an occupational therapist and sexual health educator whose teachings are grounded in Islamic spirituality. A decade ago she was helping Muslim immigrants to acclimatise to Canadian society. Upon realising that sexual health wasn’t being addressed in Islamic schools, she helped to develop and facilitate an “Islamically oriented curriculum” for sexual health. “I just thought, How can we not bring Islam into this, it’s a part of our life,” she explains. Fast-forward to 2021 and Qureshi now offers consultation services, teaches courses and provides free, informative content through her platform. “There are just too many restrictions for Muslims to get this information, and what better way to do it [than] through social media and online courses? Nothing like this exists in terms of there being a journey in sex ed for Muslims – everything is very scattered and piecemeal,” she says.

Angelica Lindsey-Ali (known by her social media moniker, Village Auntie) is an intimacy and relationships expert in America who began discussing sex with groups of Muslim women while living in Saudi Arabia and now offers courses through her Village Auntie Institute. “My work lies at the intersection of the sacred and the sacral – so I like to talk about spirituality while using sex as a framework to have those discussions,” she explains. “Everything I do is focused on women. I’m not really interested in male perspectives just because I think that we’ve been overwrought with male perceptions about sexuality and the female body.”

Orthodox Muslim positions on sex have been interpreted and passed down primarily by men, so seeing Muslim spokeswomen striving to change the narratives around sex in Muslim communities is quite revolutionary. However it isn’t only women who are lifting the veil on sexual awareness and empowerment. Habeeb Akande is a UK-based Muslim historian, sex educator and author of seven books, including A Taste of Honey: Sexuality and Erotology in Islam. To celebrate International Female Orgasm Day on 8th August, he hosted a webinar for men to learn about female pleasure. “I’m passionate about female sensuality and aim to close the gender orgasm gap,” he says. “I believe every man should know how to help a woman climax until she is truly satisfied, and that every woman should understand her body and feel entitled to pleasure from her man.”

Exuding charisma and approachability, these educators are in stark contrast to the often fear-based ‘religious’ sexual discourse, rife with foreboding words like ‘impure’ and ‘haram’ (forbidden), which can perpetuate a cycle of shame. The little information that does seep through the cracks of censorship is often patriarchal, emphasising men’s active role and women’s passivity. “A lot of Muslim scholars incorrectly understand sexual response,” says Qureshi. “They often talk about males having ‘really strong, sexual drives’ and unfortunately this gets relegated to mean that men have no control over their sexual desire, that when they’re aroused, they need sex and that it’s the role of the woman to satisfy that in marriage – not vice versa. This creates an environment that’s very inequitable for sexual pleasure in marriage.”

Conversely, many Muslims emphasise the egalitarianism of the Quran’s message, which refers to spouses as ‘garments’ for one another. Akande points out that in several of his sermons, the Prophet Muhammad urged men to treat women well, which includes being affectionate and providing financial support, sexual fulfilment and emotional security. “Sadly, many women have been raised to believe their body belongs to their father or husband,” he says. “Some even incorrectly believe that Islam permits a man to force himself on his wife and that ‘good women’ do not initiate intimacy with their husbands.” The misconception that sex is just for men needs to be dispelled, believes Akande; in Islam, women have just as much right as men to sexual pleasure. “It is also important to debunk myths regarding male sexual entitlement as some Muslims erroneously believe consent does not exist in marriage,” he adds, explaining that these attitudes stem from cultural understandings and are not aligned with Islamic values. “Oftentimes people conflate Islam with culture, and Islamic teachings with Muslim practices.”

When Akande travelled to Egypt to study Arabic and Islamic law at Cairo’s Al Azhar University, he came across numerous ‘sex manuals’ written by male Islamic scholars – findings that he believes would surprise many Muslims today. “Erotic texts such as Encyclopaedia of Pleasure by Jawami’ Al-Ladhdha and The Perfumed Garden by Al-Rawd Al-Atir emphasised the sexual needs of women and female romantic fulfilment for a pleasurable marital relationship,” he explains, adding that “sexually empowered women have long existed in Islam but their stories are often untold.”

Lifting the lid on this suppression of perspectives is the groundbreaking work of these Muslim ‘sexperts’ and social media has been instrumental in spreading their messages. “It has been one of my best tools for community generation because I can reach those women who live in places where I may never actually get a chance to visit,” says Lindsey-Ali. Muslims can turn to these educators with questions that they feel unable to ask their parents, teachers or spouses and will be met with refreshing responses presented in relatable Instagram posts – from Qureshi’s “Debunking myths about the hymen” and “Muslims and masturbation: a ‘touchy’ subject” to Lindsey-Ali’s “How to improve your stroke game” and “Tips for husbands maximising the possibility of female ejaculation”.

Because these educators’ approaches are rooted in religious beliefs, their teachings are intended for sex within marriage. Akande, however, offers advice for non-married Muslims struggling with desire and lists questions for them to ask potential spouses about sexual compatibility. Qureshi, meanwhile, plans on launching a pre-marital workshop about intimacy later this summer. She also believes that unmarried Muslims can benefit from following her platform. “I’m well aware that there are Muslims engaging in sex before marriage and they’re not doing so with best practices,” she says, adding that she follows a “harm reduction-based” approach which aims to minimise the health and social impacts of a practice without necessarily requiring one to abstain from it. “I’m not here to tell you what to believe, I’m someone who wants to expand the conversation and bring forward perspectives that we haven’t been exposed to, because Allah gave us intellect and we’re ultimately responsible for our decisions,” says Qureshi.

Using their public platforms to discuss topics traditionally relegated to the private sphere has brought some backlash from more conservative critics. Lindsey-Ali has a handful of messages from “creeps” in her inbox and has been told that she will “go to Hell” and Akande has been told that his work is “very inappropriate”. Nonetheless, the increasing number of clients, subscribers, readers and followers is testament to the high demand for their services, and these experts hope this is the beginning of a collective revival of candour when it comes to Muslims and sex. Female sex educator Dr Shaakira Abdullah, who goes by @thehalalsexpert on Instagram, is targeting future generations of Muslims and offers ‘halal sex talks’ courses for parents seeking to discuss sex openly with their children while “keeping them connected to God”.

“Sexually empowered women have long existed in Islam but their stories are often untold. — Habeeb Akande”

From a truly religious standpoint, the work of these educators is hardly radical or rebellious – they are calling for Muslims to return to the foundations of the faith and distinguish religious ethics and values from the patriarchal cultures which have clouded them. Qureshi points out that Islam, as a religion, has been colonised over the past couple of hundred years and that many Muslims have reacted with very purist interpretations. “Going back to our tradition, if we learn about the nature of what it means to be a Muslim and we really expand that to an internal journey, I think the remedy is there,” she says. “Sexual education to some folks seems really minute but if you look at our scripture, it’s a huge topic with so much sacredness.”

The sacredness of womanhood remains a focal point for Lindsey-Ali, who believes that a profound confidence in their faith is driving Muslim women’s spiritual reawakening to their rights in the bedroom. “I think women are going back and looking at the Quran and Islamic texts and saying, ‘Does it really say that?’ and trying to unearth the true teachings of Islam,” she says. In the process they’re learning some valuable lessons, like “My pleasure is just as important as his”.

Complete Article HERE!

5 Fruits To Help Boost Vaginal Lubrication

By Rukweve Ochuko

The habit of eating fruits frequently can help to keep the body system normalised and healthy. Nutritionists report that certain fruits can help enhance the wellbeing of hormones in the human body, which in turn, caters to some organs. This includes the heart, eyes, liver and kidney, amongst others.

The vagina is not left out. Natural lubrication of the vagina is highly driven by the hormone oestrogen and functions as an important factor in both intimate intercourse and vaginal health.

However, the vagina is a self-protector and cleanser of its insides, which means the vagina is good at cleaning and protecting itself from external factors that can lead to vaginal dryness.

When the oestrogen levels of the female genital are low, it can result in making the vaginal tissue fragile, thin and dry, making sexual intercourse painful and less enjoyable.

The usage of lubricant products can help with vaginal dryness, but elements found in some lubricants can take away the natural moisture and make the dryness worse. Therefore, it is highly recommended to use lubes that enhance vaginal hydration.

Nonetheless, taking natural healthy measures to maintain vagina wellness is recommended.

Here are 5 fruits that can help achieve that

1. Apple

The vitamins in an apple helps to boost sexual pleasure in women. According to a study in 2014, stated by Healthline, women who ate an apple at least once a day had a better sex drive. The phytoestrogen Phoridzin found in apples is presumed to serve as an enhancer for better sex functionality, lubrication, arousal and ability to orgasm.

Scientist suggests that the compound phloridzin found inside an apple is like the female sex hormone oestradiol. This hormone plays a major role in sexual arousal.

Researchers from Santa Chiara Regional Hospital in Trento, Italy are of the opinion that the more apples a woman ingests, the higher the level of sexual function and lubrication, an evaluation which takes into account all-inclusive satisfaction with sex.

More so, an apple contains antioxidants which serve as an aid to stimulate blood flow to the vagina. This causes the body to experience intimate pleasure and finally orgasm.

2. Kiwi

Kiwi is a small fruit that has a truckload of flavour and health aids for the human body system. The green flesh is full of healthy nutrients such as; potassium, vitamin K, vitamin E, folate and vitamin C, which is a healthy element for the vagina.

Frequently, the vagina cleans itself from the inside through natural secretions, also known as discharge. The discharge helps to protect the vagina from external bacteria that can be detrimental to a woman’s sexual health.

Scientists also suggest that there are bacteria in the vagina there to help fight against infections and other harmful bacteria.

Kiwi fruit contains a high level of vitamin C and antioxidants that help to boost the good bacteria in the vagina to help keep it healthy and well lubricated.

3. Strawberry

Strawberry is one fruit that has always been associated with sexy. Although tasteless when eaten raw, it is tasty when processed as a flavour for pastries, milkshakes, juice or protein shakes.

Strawberries substance is not just good for the taste buds, but also good and healthy for the vagina. The seeds in a strawberry contain a high level of zinc, which helps to improve both sexes’ sexual lives in various ways.

High consumption of zinc causes a notable decrease in vaginal dryness, which helps to prepare a woman’s body for sex. Also, Strawberries has a high level of antioxidants which promotes sexual health and fertility, because both promote blood flow to the woman sex organs.

Compared to other fruits, a strawberry is low in calories and glycemic value, which means it helps to give sustained energy.

4. Avocado

Avocados serve as a good natural remedy for skin darkening, roughness and facial pimples. The substance helps to keep the skin glowing, soft and fresh. Notwithstanding the skin treatment it provides, the large consumption of avocados helps to prevent vaginal dryness.

Avocados are also filled with Vitamin E which is a major antioxidant that helps regulate the blood flow to the vagina. It is also rich in potassium and vitamin B6 which certain studies show can decrease premenstrual syndrome symptoms like; irritability, bloating and fatigue. This can help to boost a woman’s libido and energy during sexual intercourse.

5. Orange

Orange is one of the most popular fruits nationwide, it is filled with vitamin C, which is known to have various health benefits. This includes; preventing skin damage, lowering cholesterol, controlling blood sugar level, and keeping the vagina lubricated amongst other benefits.The high level of vitamin C in orange helps to stimulate wetness of the vaginal walls to help penetration during sexual intercourse easier. It provides the body with stamina, which means it can aid in lasting long during sexual intercourse. It keeps the sex drive going well, by eradicating the free radicals that slows down the normal energy level as regards sexual health.The vitamin C content in orange is at a high rate than any other citrus fruits. One orange provides 116.2 percent of the daily value of Vitamin C. So, one orange a day can help to keep your body system and sexual drive healthy. Oranges can be consumed in their raw form or juiced, depending on how you enjoy it the most.Vaginal dryness can lead to bruising of the vaginal walls, which can cause minimal bleeding and pain during sex or after sex. When the vagina experiences are such, it can be highly uncomfortable and decrease orgasm which according to scientific studies, helps to release hormones that can provide relief from stress, improve moods, and boost immunity. It is recommended to make fruits part of your daily consumption to stay healthy.

Complete Article HERE!

Some penis microbes may increase the risk of vaginal infections after penetrative sex

By

  • A new study found that 10 types of bacteria found on men’s penises were predictors in whether their female partners developed bacterial vaginosis.
  • Bacterial vaginosis is a vaginal infection that affects 1 in 3 women. Experts are unsure what exactly causes bacterial vaginosis.
  • The researchers said that their study suggests men’s sexual health and women’s are inextricably linked, and that heterosexual couples should work together to promote each other’s sexual wellbeing.

Women may have a higher risk of vaginal bacterial infection after penetrative sex with men, depending on the type of microbiota on their partner’s penis, a study has found.

Bacterial vaginosis is a type of vaginal bacterial infection that affects 1 in 3 women, but, according to the CDC, health experts are still unsure what causes it.

For the study, University of Illinois at Chicago researchers looked at 168 heterosexual couples in Kenya over a year. Just over half (56%) of the men they studied had circumcised penises, and circumcision status can affect the amount and types of bacteria on a penis.

None of the women had bacterial vaginosis at the start of the study. The researchers found that 31% of the women in the study developed bacterial vaginosis during the year-long trial.

In addition to testing the bacteria in the women’s vaginas, they also examined each man’s penile microbiota during the initial screening and three follow-up appointments.

The researchers concluded that the men were a defining factor in the women’s risk of infection. They identified 10 species of penile bacteria that appeared to increase a woman’s risk of BV. The men who carried on their penis one or more of the 10 species, his female partner was more likely to develop bacterial vaginosis.

Men should be involved in women’s reproductive health

The study’s findings don’t mean a man’s penis causes bacterial vaginosis in women, according to Dr. Supriya Mehta, lead study author and an epidemiologist at University of Illinois at Chicago.

But his team’s findings suggest male and female sexual health are inextricably linked, especially for heterosexual couples.

“I would like for clinicians, researchers, and the public to be inclusive of male sex partners in their efforts to improve women’s reproductive health,” Mehta said in a statement. “Not to place directionality or blame on one partner or another, but to increase the options and opportunity for improved reproductive health, and hopefully reduce stigma from BV.”

There were caveats to this study. Only 46% of the 168 couples attended all four doctor’s office visits during the year-long trial, so the researchers have incomplete data for some couples, which could cause skewed results. Additionally, the researchers looked at a small sample of only Kenyan couples who were heterosexual, so the results may not be applicable on a universal scale, across countries, cultures, and sexualities.

Mehta said more research should be done to determine how men can look after their own genital health to protect the genital health of women with whom they’re sexually active.

Complete Article HERE!

Everything You Need To Know About WAP

— Vaginal Dryness, and Arousal

By Jamie LeClaire

Over the summer, Cardi B and Megan Thee Stallion blessed the world by dropping the sex-positive, empowering banger, “WAP.” The title is an acronym for “wet ass pussy,” and the song itself seeks to normalize and celebrate female-identifying people being unapologetically sexual and prioritizing their pleasure. And yet, a number of reactions revealed how little many know about sexual health, arousal, and how genitals function in relation to sex—especially vulvas and vaginas. Notably, conservative commenter and podcast host Ben Shapiro claimed WAP on its own to be a health concern, and—uh, according to pros that’s not the case.

The thing is, though, even though Shapiro may be deserving of the negative response he’s received for his false statement, his lack of knowledge about vulvar health is not something to be made fun of. Rather, it’s something to correct because sex education leads to more positive and shame-free conversations about sexual health. To continue contributing to that conversation, a doctor and sexual-health expert are here to answer some key questions: What does WAP mean? What does not having WAP mean? And, regardless, will you ever need a mop and a bucket?

What does WAP mean in terms of vaginal lubrication?

Vaginal fluid, especially during sexual arousal, is a normal and healthy component of sexual and reproductive functioning, and it can also fluctuate in its presence over the course of our lives. Vulva-owners have two sets of glands that are responsible for vaginal fluid during sexual arousal: the Bartholin’s glands, which are located to the right and left of the vaginal opening, and the Skene’s glands, which are closer to the urethra. Each produce and secrete what we know as vaginal fluid, and their functioning and physiology is heavily influenced by hormonal fluctuations that happen throughout life, like menopause.

As far as the whole “mop and a bucket” thing? Probably not necessary since the amount of lubrication likely wont accumulate beyond about a teaspoon’s worth.

In terms of function, vaginal lubrication aids in pleasure and the promotion of sexual health. According to Tamika K. Cross, MD, OB/GYN, these secretions help to minimize the possibility of micro tears and fissures from occurring inside the vaginal canal and around the vaginal opening during sexual play. “The less lubrication, the more friction, discomfort and potential trauma,” she says. But, as far as the whole “mop and a bucket” thing? Probably not necessary since the amount of lubrication likely wont accumulate beyond about a teaspoon’s worth.

Vaginal wetness does not always correlate with arousal

It’s important to note that differences between arousal and desire have implications on vaginal wetness, says Isharna Walsh, CEO and founder of sexual wellness app Coral. “They are closely interlinked, but they are not synonyms.” Arousal is the physical manifestation of sexual response and refers to physical reactions, like heart-rate increase, blood flow to the genitals, and, yes, WAP. But just because someone is physically aroused does not mean that they desire sex—desire is more of a mental experience and want.

It is absolutely possible for vaginal fluid to be present without feeling sexual desire, and it’s also possible to be turned on without any lubrication presenting. The descrepancy in these events is called arousal non-concordance, and Dr. Cross says it is a common issue. “The only way to find out if someone is both physically aroused and desires sex,” she says? “Ask them.”

Vaginal dryness can is extremely common and can happen for a number of reasons.

Research shows that around 17 percent of people with vulvas experience vaginal dryness during sex between ages 18 and 50, and around 50 percent of those who are post-menopausal. “Estrogen levels change most notably and drastically during menopause, thus vaginal dryness affects a large part of the population during that time,” says Dr. Cross. (As a reminder, hormonal fluctuations can account for shifts in the presence of vaginal fluid because of their effect on the functioning of our Bartholin’s and Skene’s glands.)

Beyond menopause, other factors that can shift hormone levels include the menstrual cycle, childbirth, stress, diet, medications, genital dysphoria, sleep deprivation, certain health conditions like PCOS and endometriosis, and more. For many people experiencing dryness, especially those who only experience discomfort during penetrative sex, investing in a quality personal lubricant can go a long way. But if your wetness is accompanied by vaginal itch, discomfort, or a new color or smell, it might be worth a visit to your doctor.

Ultimately, not all vulvas are the same, so getting to know your own and learning what’s normal and abnormal for you will help you to understand whether something is an issue that would benefit from addressing with a medical professional. And that’s true no matter where you land on the scale of 0 to WAP.

Complete Article HERE!

How Gen Zers are confronting feminine health and sexual wellness

by Emma Sandler

Sexual wellness and feminine health have become dominating topics within the broader beauty and wellness industries, but Gen Z’s response to these products and its marketing is still undetermined.

According to Pew Research Center, there are approximately 67 million Gen Zers in the U.S., of which 35% are older than 18. As this group of consumers enters puberty and menstruation, and eventually experiences sexual activity, they engage with these products with a wildly different set of views and values compared to their millennial counterparts.

Rebecca Alvarez Story, founder of Bloomi, a sexual and intimate care online retailer, said she noticed that while Gen Zers are not a big customer group for her business, they make up a significant chunk of readers of the site’s blog. Gen Zers make up about 8% of Bloomi’s customer base and typically purchase menstrual products like period underwear and yoni eggs. Meanwhile, Gen Zers make up more than 25% of the blog’s readership, and that readership is 73% female and 27% male. The most popular stories read relate to menstrual cycles and more fringe sexual topics like anal sex. Bloomi’s monthly virtual workshops that began in April have seen an equal number of millennials and Gen Zers attend, she said.

“What we understand based on what we’re seeing is that 18- to 24-year-olds are coming into their sexual selves,” she said. “They have a desire [to read] foundational information, like safe sex practices, but then with that curiosity comes also desire to engage with more outlier topics that millennials [don’t read],” she said. She explained that millennial women typically have to unlearn many sexual stigmas or behaviors in Bloomi virtual workshops, while Gen Zers are coming into their sexuality more confidently.

When it comes to merchandising, Gen Zers are also critical of euphemistic terms such as “feminine wash,” as they prefer something more open about what a product is. Therefore Bloomi has a category called “moisturize vulva skin,” even though brands like Lady Suite and Healthy Hoohoo within that category still rely on phrases like “intimate cleanser” or “feminine wash.”

Product descriptions are just one example of how Gen Zers are approaching feminine health and sexual wellness. Gen Z has proven to be more progressive on the topic of gender identity, compared to millennials, too. They’re also having less sex. According to the annual Youth Risk Behavior Surveillance System from the Center for Disease Control, only 40% of students were having sex in 2017, a decline from 48% in 2007. The Atlantic, in a 2018 story, spotlighted that young people were retreating from intimacy in favor of having sex only as they got older or by participating in sexual activity through masturbation. Given this trend, the consumer are on a trajectory that sexual wellness and feminine care markets might not be prepared to handle given these radical shifts in not only sexual expression and identity but also in participation. Marketing narratives can adapt quickly, but whether consumers will desire the products for sale is another question.

In April, Vagisil soft-launched a sub-brand for teen girls called OMV before expanding the brand nationwide in July through retailers like Walmart. The brand offers an intimate wash, wipes and anti-itch serum for the bikini line. According to Keech Combe Shetty, Vagisil CEO, Vagisil and OMV conducted consumer research throughout 2019 with 2,500 girls and mothers to understand what teen girls wanted from personal care products. She said they wanted to feel “confident and secure around their period,” as well as “fresh and clean,” for example. Combe Shetty said that outreach to Gen Z and their parents (who ultimately have the purchasing power) is through linear television ads on channels like ABC, CBS and Bravo, citing placement on shows that mothers and teens watch. OMV is also working with influencers like mother-and-daughter duo Kendal and Evie Rich on Instagram (who together have 115,000 followers), and plans to launch a TikTok account at an undetermined time.

Dr. Lauren Streicher, a clinical professor and doctor of obstetrics and gynecology at the Feinberg School of Medicine at Northwestern University, said such products are not only medically unnecessary but also “offensive on every level” because they suggest that a woman needs perfume in the genital area to cover up her scent. She added that the pH balance of the vagina is critically important to health and that any odor stems from the vagina itself, meaning that the pH balance washes used for the vulva have no impact on vaginal health or scent.

“If you had bad breath, you could wash your face all day long, and it’s not going to change your bad breath; it’s the same thing with the vulva and vagina,” she said. “It is sending an inappropriate message to these very vulnerable women who are already feeling insecure about their changing bodies.”

When asked about the criticisms of products like Vagisil and OMV, Combe Shetty responded by pointing out that many women can find it hard to remember how difficult entering puberty is and that girls’ confidence levels can decline significantly during this time. This line of thinking underscores a chicken-or-egg problem with products and a person’s entrance into these types of consumer categories: Do their concerns exist inherently and outside societal influence or are they precisely a product of social stigma? It is not the first time the beauty and personal care industry has faced issues with selling products that seem to push unrealistic beauty standards while simultaneously providing solutions to customer’s legitimate desires. It will likely not be the last.

“When people think about sexual wellness and health, they generally focus on product. Data tends to show that people buy products and use them a few times, but then put them away,” said Isharna Walsh, founder and CEO of sexual wellness and health app Coral. “But products are not the thing that’s going to change society and our relationships.”

Launched in Nov. 2019, Coral offers a $60 for an annual subscription for stories, educational articles, quizzes and other content around topics like desire, arousal and how to give and receive physical pleasure, among others. Walsh said Coral has raised $3 million in fundraising and that downloads increased 300% during Covid-19. The most significant cohort of subscribers is women ages 21-25, said Walsh. She was surprised by how much Gen Zers were engaging with Coral, as she assumed it would be a millennial-geared product and created the app with that in mind. A significant number of people younger than 20 have also download the app, though they subscribe at a lower rate than those older than 25-years-old, she said. Coral declined to provide specific data.

“We resonate because we’re speaking to that younger demographic with a level of maturity that they appreciate. They want to understand more about their bodies, and this age group is a lot more thoughtful (than I was at that age) around mental health and around living their best lives,” said Walsh.

Complete Article HERE!

Let’s Talk About Sex

— Women-Led Digital Platforms That You Must Check Out

From the female orgasm to increasing the visibility of underrepresented sexual orientations, these women-led digital platforms are hitting the right spot.

by Ojas Kolvankar

Prom nights, cheerleading squads, and annual basketball games are all representative of classic high school films that we have all been guilty of binge-watching at some point in time. So when director Ben Taylor’s Sex Education, a popular Netflix series, came around, it was a breath of fresh air in an, otherwise overcrowded genre as it normalised the conversations around teenage sex, and sex in general, portraying it in all its awkward, confusing glory. The show is centered around Otis (Asa Butterfield), the awkward, virgin teenage son of a sex therapist (Gillian Anderson), who along with his friend, Maeve (Emma Mackey), decide to put his mother’s (sometimes) overbearing skills to use in order to make a little cash. They discover that their classmates are bogged down by sex and body issues they’re not comfortable speaking about with anyone.

In addition to educating us about sexual health practices, the show destigmatises masturbation, sexual fetishes, and fantasies, while also shining the spotlight on cyberbullying and physical harassment. Closer home, a slew of independent, women-led digital platforms are also normalising the conversations around sex, namely Agents of Ishq, Liberating Sexuality, RedWomb, and LSD Cast (Love Sex Desire).

First up, filmmaker and writer, Paromita Vohra’s bi-lingual multimedia platform, Agents of Ishq that uses interesting audio-visual formats to disseminate information about sex. For instance a Lavani on consent to animation on masturbation to a survey on how men feel about their penis. “I started Agents of Ishq because I felt the pre-existing conversation about sex was stultifying. We have always talked about sex in context to violence or negativity – how to avoid rape, pregnancy, or disease. Even though lived experiences are complex and multi-layered, we have spoken about it in a polarised way between the sexual revolution and absolute repression. Agents of Ishq created a friendly, fluid, and inclusive space. We even used relatable (desi) language to talk about sex, rooted in Indian experience and contexts.” explains Vohra.

The platform now has over 250 user-generated accounts of their sexual experiences and a highly engaged audience that looks out for fun, clarification, confession, a sense of community, and even sharing their own stories. They have affirmed their audience that they are not alone who have doubts and questions about the subject.

In the same vein Indraja Saroha’s YouTube channel, Liberating Sexuality is a repository of sex-positive videos that look at the intersection of mental health, body positivity, and sexuality. The law graduate started the platform to begin a conversation around taboo subjects. Indraja believes for a woman to express her sexual desires is a revolutionary act. Women tend to attract attention from people who consider this to be a declaration of their sexual availability because they’ve almost never seen a woman’s sexuality independent of the male gaze, or have reduced it to fetishisation. Further, Saroha elaborates, “Whether it is movies, pop culture, art, or even sex education, the conversation is limited to heterosexual men, as if they are the only ones entitled to pleasure and by extension, to have their desires represented and acknowledged as normal. Most of us need a voice, someone we relate to, who can express what we feel. It helps us feel less lonely, realise that our experiences are natural and we have our own agency.”

Similarly, Independent radio producer and journalist Chhavi Sachdev encourages people to engage in open conversations about sex through her candid podcast, LSDCast – Love, Sex, and Dating. While Pallavi Barnwal, a sex educator and founder of RedWomb, organises meetings to help men and women embrace their vulnerability and sexuality in a safe space. “Being a woman who runs a sex-positive platform has worked in my favour. I’m not only able to discuss issues faced by other women, but also engage with people from different genders and age groups without my intentions being questioned. Had it been man, he wouldn’t have received similar access” adds Pallavi.

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This Pioneering Sex Researcher Experimented on Herself

Marie Bonaparte’s interest in the clitoris went an inch too far.

By Mark Hay

In the mid-2000s, Kim Wallen, an Emory University psychobiologist with an interest in the roots of sexual experiences, told his colleague Elisabeth Lloyd, of the University of Indiana, Bloomington, about “a far-fetched idea” that he’d been mulling over for a couple of decades: Might individual variations in the shape of biologically female genitalia at least partially explain why some people with vaginas find it easier or harder than others to orgasm during penetrative sex? Lloyd’s own research, which went a long way in advancing popular understanding of female orgasms, had found that three-fourths of women don’t report consistently achieving orgasm from penetrative sex. But neither she nor any other modern sex researcher Wallen was aware of had tried to figure out whether anything physical might account for that.

Lloyd knew of one researcher who’d had the same idea, decades before Wallen, and published a mostly forgotten paper on it, in 1924. Intrigued, Wallen tracked down the text and discovered that its author, A.E. Narjani, was a pseudonym for an early, and unexpected, modern sex researcher: Marie Bonaparte, princess of Greece and Denmark, great-grandniece of Napoleon, heir to the fortune of Monte Carlo and aunt to Britain’s Prince Philip.

Born in 1882, Bonaparte had an irrepressibly sharp mind, a penchant for no-holds-barred confessional writing and a deep desire for sexual satisfaction. She wrote and spoke openly about her sex life and desires. That’s how we know her 50-year marriage to Prince George of Greece and Denmark was loving but largely sexless — most likely because he was predominately, if not solely, sexually attracted to men — and that Bonaparte had a slew of affairs, including a long-running one with 11-term French Prime Minister Aristide Briant. Her interests were so well-known that when Bonaparte persuaded Romanian sculptor Constantin Brâncusi to make a bust of her in 1909, it morphed into Princess X, a big bronze phallus. 

Although we often think of the 19th and early 20th centuries as sexually repressed eras, Bonaparte’s sexual interests weren’t entirely unusual. Alison Downham Moore, a historian of European sexuality at Western Sydney University who is writing a chapter on Bonaparte for an upcoming book on women who changed the world, explains that there was plenty of contemporary scholarly and medical dialogue about female sexual pleasure.

Prince George I of Greece and Denmark and wife Princess Marie Bonaparte.

But a good amount of sexual dialogue of the era was dominated by long-standing beliefs that female sexuality was all about the vagina. Medicalized fears of masturbation and overt female sexuality had slowly gained purchase since at least the 18th century. In 1905, Sigmund Freud distilled these threads of thought into a biologically ignorant yet popular theory that clitoral stimulation and masturbation were immature, and that any woman interested in anything but vaginal penetration needed psychological help. “This was a really strange idea,” says Moore, but a widespread one “that probably just resulted in many women not ever experiencing any kind of orgasm.”  

Bonaparte was steeped in this toxic sexual ideology. She started a correspondence with Freud in 1924, and by 1925 had become one of his favorite psychoanalytic patients, undergoing at least two hours of analysis every day. She noted that she could have orgasms with clitoral stimulation, but not solely through vaginal stimulation, and viewed herself as clinically frigid because of that. 

Bonaparte openly broke with Freud in the 1920s, seeking physical, not psychological, causes of her so-called frigidity and refusing to write the clitoris off as irrelevant or immature. Her search led her to measure the contours of 243 women’s genitals, gather data on their orgasmic experiences and publish her 1924 paper arguing that the distance between the clitoris and the vaginal opening might account for the trouble some women experienced with climaxing via penetration alone. Her theory was that women with clitorises 2.5 centimeters or fewer from their vaginal openings might get more clitoral stimulation via penetration than those with clitorises farther away. Lloyd and Wallen later confirmed Bonaparte’s finding, based on analyses of both her dataset and another one, in 2010.

Lloyd and Wallen call Bonaparte’s research groundbreaking, especially given the trickiness, even to this day, of taking genital measurements and the prevailing anti-clitoris attitudes of Bonaparte’s time. Hers was an important counterpoint to the widespread advance of those attitudes, says Moore.

Unfortunately, Bonaparte took her research too far. She and Austrian gynecologist Josef Halban developed a surgery known as the Halban-Narjani procedure, which severed the suspensory ligaments around the external clitoris and pulled it closer to the vaginal opening. Bonaparte subjected herself to the surgery, previously only performed on cadavers, in 1927, but found herself still frigid — she likely suffered scarring around her clitoris and a subsequent lack of sensitivity. Meanwhile, mainstream gynecologists tore her to shreds by identifying cases of women with clitorises more than 2.5 centimeters from their vaginal openings who could orgasm during intercourse. Bonaparte lacked the statistical knowledge to understand that these findings did not invalidate her theory, and so resigned herself to the belief that her work and conclusions had been wrong.

Freud’s shadow eventually blotted out her work. Today, Bonaparte is primarily known for her work establishing Freudian psychoanalysis in France, propping up the Psychoanalytic Publishing House with her fortune and helping Freud and a couple hundred other Jews escape the Nazis in the late ’30s. She became a psychoanalyst, and supposedly subjected François Mitterrand to an impromptu session during Queen Elizabeth II’s coronation, in 1953, while they were both bored. The few modern sex researchers and activists who know about her, Moore says, “have tended to underestimate her as merely a lackey of Freud.”

It’s hard not to wonder where Bonaparte’s research could have led if she hadn’t been ground down by personal misfortunes and prevailing Freudian theories. But in remembering Bonaparte and unearthing her work to build upon it, as Lloyd and Wallen have done, we can perhaps move toward the nuanced, open understanding she sought.

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